“Ye are a troublesome baggage. Strong-willed, and there was that part on the boat when ye threatened to pitch me overboard into the sea. I was tempted to bind ye and tie a cloth over yer mouth. Ye do have a way with words. It’s that temper of yers.”
How very endearing, I thought. “You seem to have survived.”
That dark gaze met mine. “I prefer a challenge. I’d never met a lady who knew those words.”
Yes, well…I had tried to temper my vocabulary since. I had discovered other effective means.
He kissed me quite thoroughly, which made me consider that we might perhaps put off our inquiries for the day?
His hands slipped onto my shoulders then he gently set me from him.
“I will see ye at the townhouse,” he said in parting.
I knew that he also intended to visit the scene of the crime, as he called it, with that former police inspector’s perspective.
“Perhaps,” I replied.
He could be such a devil, and it was all that I could think of in the moment. And then there was that smile curving one corner of his mouth.
“Then we can discuss what we learned.”
As I said, such a devil. He knew perfectly well that I would want to know everything he was able to learn about the police investigation into young Lord Salisbery’s murder, as well as his thoughts about where it had taken place.
After he left, I seized my travel bag with my notebook and left the office as well.
While he met with Mr. Dooley, I intended to call on the print shop that had provided calling cards for our inquiry business.
I was hoping to learn what the owner of the shop might be able to tell me about the stationary used for the note that was found with young Lord Salisbery the night of the robbery and murder.
As we set off, I took the lift down from the second floor to the street as Brodie took the stairs once again.
“It is quite marvelous,” I told him again when he arrived on the landing near the alcove. “And it saves time.” That was something that should appeal to him.
“As long as the hound stays out of the bloody thing.”
“Yes, I know. And you prefer things that don’t move under your feet,” I replied as I stepped past him and gave the driver Mr. Cavendish had summoned the destination of the print shop on Fleet Street.
“Do be careful,” I told him as I stepped up into coach. “Coaches can be most dangerous…they move under your feet.”
There was undoubtedly a comment about that, but I failed to hear it as we set off.
The ride to Fleet Street was not long, and I arrived just after ten o’clock in the morning.
In addition to calling cards, they also provided notebooks and stationery, and were under contract with my publisher to print my books.
The clerk at the counter greeted me cordially, “Good morning, Lady Forsythe. How may I assist you this morning? More calling cards?”
“I would like to speak with Mr. Marsden regarding another matter if he is available,” I explained.
The clerk let him know, and he appeared from the back of his shop.
“Good morning, Lady Forsythe.”
I explained that I needed his assistance in identifying a certain piece of paper and where it might have been purchased.
“Ah, part of your next inquiry case, perhaps?” he commented.
“If we might meet privately,” I suggested.
