“How is Cassandra?” he asked.
“Off to her mother’s. I thought it best, what with this nonsense about Downfield hanging over our heads. It’s safer for her there.”
“And you can conduct your espionage without her looking over your shoulder.” Silas added.
Benedict sighed. “Yes, this widow is rather nosy, and I prefer to spread my papers about when I’m working.”
Silas nodded. “Better this way.”
“Well then.” Benedict settled comfortably in his armchair, crossing his legs in an elegant manner, “I assume you are not here for my scintillating company.”
“I actually did come for your scintillating company. I could use a second opinion. Preferably one that comes with whisky.”
Benedict arched an eyebrow. “Oh? That is a first. I’ll do my best then. Besides the whisky, I’ll ring for a warm meal too. It’d do nicely, I think. We wouldn’t want you to catch your death.”
Silas nodded. “Thank you.”
Benedict rang the bell and Thompson, one of Benedict’s staff, a trusted member and most discreet, appeared at once, with a tray laden with food and drink. A bottle of fine whisky, a leg of cured ham, warm fresh bread, fried tomatoes, and pigeon pie.
Silas quirked an eyebrow. “That was fast.”
Benedict smiled. “Thompson is always prepared.”
The butler put the tray down between them, serving them each a glass of whisky, much to Silas’s appreciation, before fixing them each a plate.
Silas tucked into the simple yet delicious fare. He realized that it had been a while since he truly felt hungry, but he certainly did now.
Benedict let him eat in peace.
Once he was done, he sat back on the comfortable, pillow filled sofa with his cup of tea.
“So, about that second opinion…” Benedict’s voice trailed off.
“You were right about the nuns coming to see me. Here’s what happened.”
Benedict raised an eyebrow, and Silas took a slow breath as he recounted the details of the nuns’ visit, trying to keep his voice steady despite the undercurrent of irritation within him.
“It’s maddening how they kept Lady Helena in such a state, dangling that threat over her head,” Silas growled at the end. “It’s nothing short of outrageous.”
“Indeed.” Benedict smiled. “I see you are quite aroused by this woman.”
Silas narrowed his eyes at him. “Now is not the time for one of your double entendres, Benedict.”
“And why shouldn’t I? I believe that all situations practically beg for an entendre. And most notably, those involving my brooding friend and a most distracting lady under his roof.”
“Of course,” Benedict said, leaning slightly forward. “What do we do about these nuns, and the powerful figures backing them?”
“That is the question,” Silas replied. “First, we must identify them.”
“Indeed,” Benedict agreed. “Once we know who they are, perhaps Parliament can be persuaded to act.”
Silas inclined his head. “A sound plan. And where do we begin?”
“James Porter,” Benedict said, matter-of-factly.
Silas’s lips pressed into a thin line before he finally nodded. “You read my mind.”
Dinner was an awkward affair. Helena could hardly stand to look Amelia in the eye. She was still reeling from what had happened in Silas’s study. She could hardly believe ithadhappened.
