‘Only one, and he died a few months ago.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’
‘He was murdered.’
The lady’s eyes filled with tears of compassion. ‘Oh, my dear! I cannot imagine anything worse.’
‘Some things are best not imagined.’
‘How true.’
Dora examined the brilliant woman standing beside her. She too could read character: it was part of being an actress and investigator. ‘You aren’t going to keep out of this investigation, are you?’
‘I am not, Miss Fitz-Pennington.’
‘You will insist on coming with me tomorrow?’
‘I will.’
Dora sighed. ‘Call me Dora. If we are going to risk our lives together, we had better do so as comrades-in-arms, Jane. So tell me: can you fire a pistol?’
Chapter Fifteen
Bruton Street
Sleep eluded Jacob. The fireworks popping and crackling outside didn’t help, jolting him awake each time he managed to coax rest a little closer. Then he heard voices downstairs– angry booming ones in the hallway. It was too early for Lady Tolworth to be back so that left Yarton to defend the door against all boarders. Unfortunately, it sounded like the pirate trying to swing aboard in this raid was none other than Viscount Sandys. It would perhaps on another occasion be amusing to find out who would prevail in a swashbuckling fight between the finest butler in England pitted against the most headstrong brother, but Jacob decided it wasn’t fair to make Yarton verge on being impolite to a leading member of the ton. It went against the grain of the man’s training.
Wrapping up in a borrowed silk dressing gown, he shuffled to the top of the stairs, feeling every single one of his bruises.
‘I will repeat, my lord, Lady Tolworth is not at home and her guest is asleep. You must return tomorrow if you wish to callon your brother.’ Yarton was using his most stentorian tone. It rarely failed– except in the presence of Arthur.
‘I will not be prevented from seeing my own brother by a jumped-up major-domo who doesn’t know his betters when he meets them! I’ll have you arrested if you try to stop me!’ Arthur tried to push past Yarton but the butler bravely held his ground.
‘You have no such rights in my lady’s house, Viscount Sandys. Call the Watch if you must, but the Charlies will tell you the same thing.’
Looking down over the banister, Jacob was tempted– oh, so tempted– to let his brother humiliate himself by trying and failing to carry out his threats, but his better nature prevailed.
‘Arthur, you really should listen to Yarton. An Englishwoman’s home is her castle and you are being unmannerly trying to force your way inside.’
‘Jacob!’ Arthur, to his credit, did look genuinely relieved to see that Jacob was standing and able to talk cogently. ‘You are well?’
‘Not exactly well, but alive. Yarton, I’ll see my brother in the library if you would be so kind as to show him in there. It might take me a few moments to come down the stairs.’
‘Very good, sir.’ Yarton gave a flick of a finger towards a doorway out of Jacob’s sight and a waiting footman bounded up the stairs to assist Jacob in his descent.
Jacob arrived in the library to find the butler serving his brother a brandy for all the world as if they had not come close to a tussle in the hallway.
‘Anything for yourself, Dr Sandys?’ Yarton enquired.
Tempting though it was to dull his pain with strong spirits, Jacob knew better. ‘If a camomile tisane was available, I would be most appreciative.’
‘Of course, sir.’ Yarton retreated in search of the tea. Jacob knew that if Lady Tolworth did not stock it in her kitchen, thebutler would find a way of supplying it, even if he had to sally forth and pick the flowers himself.
Jacob lowered himself into the chair facing his brother. ‘You tracked me down then.’
Arthur didn’t say anything, merely gulped his brandy. They resembled each other in their dark hair and blue-grey eyes, but Arthur was solid and broad-shouldered to Jacob’s leaner frame. The viscount had been annoyed when his younger brother had grown a few inches taller than him in his teens, because Arthur had not wanted to cede even this advantage. He felt the brother destined to hold the title should also be the most imposing. Nature had had other ideas. Their relationship had followed a similar trajectory a few years later. Odd now to think of it but until ten years ago Arthur had been the model older brother looking out for and guiding the younger and Jacob had sincerely admired him for that. Then Jacob’s choices– some good, many bad– meant that ‘looking out’ had become invigilation and his ‘guiding’ more like herding Jacob into the sheep pen Arthur preferred. But Arthur was no collie, nor Jacob a sheep, for all his attempts to force them into those roles.
‘As you may have heard,’ said Jacob, ‘I was involved in an accident. Otherwise, I would have sought you out tonight.’
