Us. Once, she had fought against her feelings for Solomon because she did not want him associated with the sordid side of her business and knew that he did not wish to be. And yet now, he identified with it, and his words as well as his support soothed her.
She left the household much calmer and happier than she had found it, but once alone in the carriage with Solomon, she said restlessly, “Perhaps I should go back this evening, just in case there is more trouble.”
Away from the others, Solomon was looking uncharacteristically grim. “I don’t like it,” he said. “I don’t like that this harrying has started now.”
“You think it’s the same person who killed St. John, or at least brought the bodies to our doorstep?”
“Or it’s someone taking advantage of the event to spill their own venom—perhaps even to distract us.”
“Well, at least it’s a clue,” Constance said. “Though I must admit I’ve had more than enough of anonymous letters after the affair at Sutton May.”
“This was no letter. This was a notice, designed to be seen by more than the occupants of the house. Everyone was supposed to see it and revile you.”
“To drive us out,” Constance said. “I suppose it was always a risk setting up in such a place.”
Solomon put a finger under her chin, turning her face up to his. “You will give in?”
“Not without a fight. But I do have to consider the safety of my girls. And our clients,” she added ruefully. “Most of whom do not want their presence with us advertised to the world.”
“At least they have the excuse of charity.”
“That is true. What an excellent idea of yours that was…” Even if someone, or several someones, were doing their best to destroy the rise of her respectability.
*
That evening’s partywas not as well attended as the night before, partly because there was no lauded musician, Constance’s presence had not been guaranteed, and the charity donors rarely came twice in a row.
But the girls were their charming selves, and Constance, as she had always done, pushed worries to one side in order to be the perfect hostess, making sure her guests were comfortable, entertained, and never lonely.
Supper had just been served when Max murmured her in ear that there was trouble.
She excused herself to her companions and accompanied Max into the hallway. “What?”
“In the back garden again. Jeremy saw someone creeping about.”
“Thanks. You watch at the front. Where is Mr. Grey?”
“I don’t know, ma’am.”
Of course, he was the first person she saw in the garden, standing very still just beyond the doorstep. She slipped her hand into his. Their communication was silent, a touch of the fingers, the faintest of shrugs against her shoulder.
Who is there?
I don’t know.
After a moment, he led her toward the bench on the lawn, and they sat down together. Her skin prickled, because the raspberry bushes on her left were stirring when there was no wind. Shadows moved on the other side of the garden, and at theback, near the gate. One of them might have been a cat, but her heart beat faster.
Solomon put his lips close to her ear. “I think there are two of them. Jeremy heard one man slip through the gate while he was walking round from the front. He’s behind the raspberry bush. I saw another whisk in before he saw me at the door. He’s skulking in the shadows behind the apple tree at the back. They seem spry and quick.”
She pressed her cheek to his, so that they could speak in the inaudible whispers of lovers. “Then not the old ladies themselves. What are we waiting for?”
“For Jeremy and Max to get round the mews to the back gate, while you and I stroll to the raspberry bushes.”
“Shouldn’t we have a lantern to see their faces clearly?” Constance suggested.
“Jeremy has one and Janey will bring two from the kitchen.”
“How efficient you are in this house.”
