“Who are you?” Her voice was sharp with suspicion. “What are you doing in my establishment at this hour?”
Aaron stepped forward. “Forgive the intrusion, madam. Are you the landlady?”
“I am. Mrs. Pritchard. And you still haven’t answered my question.”
“My wife and I work for Lord Sulton.” The lie came smoothly. “His lordship asked us to fetch some items from his lodgings.”
Mrs. Pritchard’s eyes narrowed, flicking between them. Louise stepped closer to Aaron’s side, playing the part.
“Lord Sulton hasn’t been here in over three weeks,” the landlady said. “And he owes me two months’ rent besides.”
“Part of our errand is to settle that debt.” Aaron reached into his coat and withdrew a leather purse. “How much does he owe?”
Mrs. Pritchard named a sum that made Louise inhale sharply. Aaron counted out the coins without hesitation, then added several more.
“For your trouble. And your discretion.”
The landlady’s demeanor transformed. She pocketed the money with practiced efficiency and produced a key from her wrapper.
“This way, then. Though I warn you, there’s not much left to fetch. His lordship took most of his things when he left.” She paused. “Or someone else did.”
She led them down a dim corridor and unlocked a door at the end. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”
The lodgings were cramped and cold, consisting of two rooms that spoke of genteel poverty sliding toward genuine desperation. But it was worse than that. The place had been stripped bare.
Empty wine bottles lined the mantel, but the wardrobe doors hung open, revealing nothing but bare hooks. Drawers had been pulled out and upended. Papers were scattered across the floor, but they were only old newspapers and discarded betting slips.
“Someone’s been here before us.” Louise moved through the wreckage, her face pale. “They’ve taken everything.”
Aaron checked the desk, finding only empty compartments. “Recently, by the look of it. The dust hasn’t settled.”
Louise pulled out a drawer entirely, checking beneath it the way she’d seen George hide things.
Nothing.
She moved to the wardrobe, running her hands along the back panels.
Still nothing.
“He always hid important things in furniture,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. “Our father did the same.”
They searched in tense silence, but it was futile. Whoever had come before them had been thorough. Not a single document remained. Not a letter, not a ledger, not even a calling card.
“There’s nothing here.” Louise sank onto the edge of the bare mattress, her composure finally cracking. “We’re too late.”
Aaron moved to the window, checking the street below.
The snow that had been falling lightly when they arrived had thickened into a white curtain. Even as he watched, the wind picked up, driving flakes horizontally past the glass.
“We have another problem.”
Louise joined him at the window. Her breath caught. “A snowstorm.”
“A blizzard, by the look of it.” Aaron tested the window frame, feeling the cold seeping through. “We can’t leave. Not in this.”
“But Emily?—”
“- is safe and warm at Calborough House with my aunt.” He turned to face her. “We both rode here. Taking horses out in this would be dangerous for both the poor beasts and us.”
