“I’m not looking forward to seeing the viscount,” Leo admitted, the curl of nervousness in her stomach returning. “I wish I could forget the way he looked at me and the Inspector that one time we saw him at the cemetery. It was a look of sheer disgust.”
Jasper had not been with them on that anniversary of Emmaline, Beatrice, and Gregory Junior’s deaths. Every year, the Inspector would visit the stone mausoleum within Kensal Green Cemetery that the viscount had erected for his beloved daughter and grandchildren. One time, a young Leo and the Inspector had crossed paths with the viscount there. No words had been exchanged, only the older man’s hateful glare with the Inspector’s patient, sorrowful one. He’d never blamed Viscount Cowper for his reproach, though Leo had not been so generous.
“I’ve never met the man,” Jasper said. “I honestly don’t know what to expect when we arrive. And that is something I don’t like.”
Neither did she, but she was too curious to ignore the summons—even if it meant encountering Viscount Cowper again. He likely would not recognize Leo from that one wordless meeting at Kensal Green. It was only her strange memory that held onto those images in perfect detail. Even now, over a decade later, she could still draw up the raven-black stovepipe hat he’d been wearing, the dark, midnight-blue greatcoat, his black ascot, threaded with blue stitching, and the walking stick, topped with a polished jet ball. She could still see the red rims of his eyes and the evidence of crystalline tears on his lashes.
“Perhaps it has something to do with the Inspector,” she suggested. “And since he is now gone…something falls to you?”
“That might explain my invitation. But what of yours?” He shook his head. “I suppose we’ll find out in short order.”
There was no use in speculating further. And after the next few moments of uneasy silence, she knew there was no use avoiding any discussion about his secondment, either.
“Will you tell me about Liverpool?” she asked.
He tapped the brim of his hat in his lap. “It is wholly unremarkable.”
“I meant the investigation,” she said, knowing he was only teasing.
He grinned with good humor, his gaze lingering on her. “I’d rather tell you how beautiful you look.”
Leo wasn’t accustomed to such compliments, and as she grinned, heat licked her cheeks. He’d called her beautiful once before, even though she’d been a complete mess after a long day at the Spring Street Morgue. Today, however, Leo had done up her sable hair differently, and she’d worn her best dress. The dark purple ensemble had a swagged pannier overskirt that revealed a lighter purple underskirt. According to her good friend Nivedita Brooks, who had thankfully returned from a long stay with her aunt in Birmingham, the rich color complimented her dark hair and fair complexion.
But she knew it wasn’t her hair or dress that Jasper was complimenting.
“I’ve missed you,” she replied and, though speaking her feelings had never been very easy for her, added, “I want you to come home, Jasper.”
He was only here with her now because he’d taken a day’s leave to see to this strange matter.
The last of his smile disappeared, and he turned serious. “I am, Leo.”
“Are you?” She let out a gust of bated breath. Her relief was evident enough to earn a questioning frown from him. She tried to explain. “It’s just that I know Andrew Carter can’t reach you inLiverpool, or at least, not as easily. I thought you might prefer it that way.”
The muscle along his jaw tensed. “No Carter is going to keep me from my life in London. Or from you, for that matter.” Jasper shifted his position on the bench to face her more fully. “The counterfeiting investigation is over. We cracked it the day before I received the solicitor’s letter. There is paperwork to do, and I’ll need to testify in court, but I’m essentially done there.”
Her tentative relief now jolted to full pleasure, and she was still smiling when he took her hand and laced his gloved fingers with hers. Leo thought he might kiss her then, as he’d done a few times before leaving for his new post, but the unwieldy friction between them remained; a result, most likely, of them having spent so much time apart.
“I considered taking a train to London to see you, if only for a short visit,” he said, looking intently at their joined hands. Leo, too, had secretly wished he would have, but her doubt about his planning to come back at all had kept her from asking. She’d been wrong to assume what his plans were and could have spared herself so much turmoil if only she had taken the chance.
“Why didn’t you?” she asked.
“Because I knew I would not want to return to Liverpool.”
He brought her hand, encased in soft leather, to his lips. The strange tension between them began to diffuse, but Jasper didn’t lean closer to kiss her. He lowered their hands to the bench, keeping their fingers threaded.
The rain had started in earnest as they’d been driving along a country road toward Cowper Fields. It pelted the roof of the carriage and the glass windows, darkening the afternoon light.
“I suppose you still want to hear about the case?” Jasper teased, a small smile curving his lips as he gazed at her.
She did, and over the next several minutes, he laid out a complex counterfeiting operation, in which a criminal family,previously unknown to the police, were producing false notes and using one of their businesses, a manufacturer of coffins and caskets, to transport them. The counterfeit notes were sent to select funeral directors throughout Liverpool, Birmingham, Leeds, and London, sewn within the coffins’ silk linings. The operation had planted their men within these funeral services to strip the bank notes from the caskets and distribute them in different cities.
“Clever,” Leo said. “How did you solve it?”
Jasper cocked his head. “At times, it seemed we never would. They were incredibly careful and methodical. Eventually though, they made a mistake. An unsuspecting funeral director witnessed the extraction of the notes. He was stabbed and left for dead, but he lived long enough to tell the police what he saw. From there, we followed the lead back to the source.”
Leo was glad for him. He’d been sent to Liverpool not as punishment, but because he’d done well in solving a few high-profile cases in London as of late. This success would be yet another feather in his cap.
They sat next to each other in companionable silence, their hands still clasped on the seat between them. The carriage soon slowed and turned down a long, gravel drive, toward a large, stone Tudor manor with numerous turrets and leaded-glass windows. Vines with withered brown leaves clung to the exterior, adding to its foreboding air. Leo was grateful for her gloves, as her palms began to sweat as they reached the terminus of the drive, where a small fountain centered a graveled yard.
