“Will do.” Hurst picked his jacket off the back of his chair and slipped it on.
“And Cyrus, I think Mr. Shelton deserves another conversation. I don’t think he’s a serious suspect, but he might be able to divulge more about who his competition for Miss Moore’s affections were.”
“He’s the windmill manufacturer?” Verity asked.
Charles nodded.
“We already have the location of his office in our files from your last case.” The agent gathered a notebook and piece of lead from his desk. “I’ll go now.”
“Thank you.” Charles pressed his palms to her desk and stared towards the window, his eyes unseeing.
“And what will you be doing?” Wil asked.
“I’m going to pay a visit to Mr. Beaumont.” His nostrils flared. “A man with political aspirations might have wanted more than to marry the daughter of a second son with no great fortune.”
“I already spoke with him.” Cassie retied her scarf. “I don’t know what more we’ll learn by talking to him again so soon.”
“It is too great a coincidence that you were attacked directly after speaking with the man.” Charles pushed off the desk and gave her a stern look. “And you are not coming. I will speak with him alone.”
Cassie planted her hands on her hips. “She was my sister. My responsibility.”
“And you are mine.”
“So that’s the way of it,” Hereford murmured. He waggled his eyebrows at Cassie.
Charles blanched. “I mean she’s my assistant. I won’t let any further harm come to her. You”—he said, jabbing his finger at her—“will stay out of it.”
Heat gathered at her chest and rose up her neck. Stay out of it? Like her sister’s murder was a minor circumstance in her life and not something she’d obsessed over ever since she’d discovered the truth. She dug her nails into her palms. Direct attacks were never her way, however. Charles could dictate all he wanted; she would ignore his orders and do as she wished.
She blinked, the backs of her eyes burning. Foolishly, she’d hoped they would be in accord on the matter. That he would want to work side by side with her to catch Lydia’s killer.
It was better this way, though. It would make it easier for her to do what was necessary when the time came.
Wilberforce cleared his throat. “Miss Moore, you’ve laid the groundwork for this investigation. Let them follow up on your leads. Besides, I need your assistance on another matter.”
Charles jerked his head around to glare at the manager.
“It is completely safe,” Wil said mildly. “You need not be concerned. Lord Hereford and I will make sure no harm befalls her while you are away.”
Charles gave a quick, disgusted snort. “Hereford?”
The viscount flicked his coin towards Charles who made no move to catch it. It bounced off his waistcoat and hit the floor. Hereford smirked. “Don’t worry, old man. I will take very good care of your lady while you are away.”
Charles flushed, his face brick red.
“So good, in fact, she might just want to stick with me whenever you come back.” Hereford winked at her. “Professionally speaking, of course.”
Charles ground his teeth so tightly it looked as though he could break through steel with his bite.
Cassie smothered her smile. Hereford wasn’t interested in her. She knew this. The viscount knew that she knew this. But if Charles thought that he could edge her out of her own investigation, well, it was awfully nice having a co-conspirator to help put him in his place.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“And another thing, if it is even beginning to look as though darkness may fall in the next several hours, you are to stop what you are doing and return home at once. You being out in the streets so late is unacceptable.” Charles squinted through the rain and wind, trying to make a hackney appear through sheer force of will. It was only eight in the evening but the blasted storm had chased everyone in London in doors it seemed.
“Even when I’m with Lord Hereford?”
“Especially when you’re with Hereford.”
