It didn’t get riskier than that.
“It is safe,” Strait said.
Cassie blinked, thinking for a moment he had read her mind and was reassuring her.
He pulled the door wider and started to slide through. “We’ll meet again tomorrow night. Remember,” he said, turning and pinning her with a look, “don’t ask too many questions, don’t—”
“Yes, yes.” She flapped her hand. “I remember all your rules. Now go, before we’re discovered and have to make excuses.”
He pressed his lips flat, obviously not happy that she was issuing the orders. But he was a conscientious agent and practicality won out. He nodded then was gone, moving down the hallway more silently than a man his size should be able.
She pressed the door shut and rested her forehead upon the cool wood. Her body felt overly hot, and sweat beaded on her skin. “Oh, Lydia,” she whispered. “What am I doing?”
Chapter Five
“If he stands any closer to her, he’ll be under her skirts.” Mr. Rhodes leaned towards one of his guests, a Mr. Howard if Cassie remembered correctly. Both men stood not ten feet from her, watching the game of pall-mall play out on Mr. Rhodes’s wide lawn. Neither had noticed Cassie seated on a large rock in the shadow of a yew tree.
Mr. Howard huffed. “I do believe Wiltshire has already been under her skirts.” He pressed a meaty hand to his diamond stickpin as he guffawed at his own jest. Mr. Rhodes joined in with his own laughter.
Cassie’s gaze sharpened on the pair in question. Lord Wiltshire was indecently close to Lady Redgrave. He had his arms wrapped around the woman, purporting to show her how to swing her mallet. Cassie pressed her lips flat. In truth, it gave the scoundrel the perfect vantage point to peer down the lady’s bodice.
Lady Redgrave still wore her ruby necklace, even with her day dress. If Cassie was the thief, those were the jewels she would target.
“I’m surprised at Wiltshire’s choice,” Rhodes said. “She’s a bit long in the tooth for one of his dalliances. He usually likes them younger.”
The men started to move off. “…opportunist…takes what’s available…”
Cassie shifted. The rock wasn’t the most comfortable of perches, but it was well situated. She’d overheard three conversations from here, with no one the wiser. She felt a bit like a spider, waiting for her fly. Now if only someone would say something of import.
“It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?”
Cassie stilled, waiting for a second voice to chime in.
And realized the first voice had been speaking to her.
She swung her head to the left. There, on another rock, sat Lord Wiltshire’s secretary. How long had the man been there? She gave him a small smile. “Indeed it is.”
“I hope….” Mr. Lincoln flushed and dropped his head. A gold ring encircled the fourth finger on his right hand, and he twisted it nervously. “I hope you didn’t note what our host and his friend were speaking of. They didn’t know a lady was present.”
And she hadn’t known another set of ears was present. She struggled to hold back her own flush. Usually she was the one that nobody noticed. She might be able to take lessons from Wiltshire’s secretary.
“Pray, don’t concern yourself.” She lifted one shoulder. “It was of no account. But why do you not play, Mr. Lincoln? I believe one of the ladies was looking for a partner.”
His flush deepened. Even though the man’s face was creased with some worry lines, he retained a boyish appearance. “I am not the sporting sort.” He pushed his spectacles up his nose and cast a glance at her from the corner of his eye. “You are a widow, is that correct?”
She nodded, and he blew out a breath, looking relieved. As though it wasn’t so bad if she overheard ribald talk if she’d already experienced the marital state.
Her lips twitched. There was a certain charm to Mr. Lincoln. Or perhaps she had a soft spot for those who were easily overlooked. “I know we were introduced yesterday, but if you’ve forgotten, my name is Mrs. Alberto.”
He started to protest, but she waved him down. “There were too many names to learn all at once. I cannot, for the life of me, remember the name of that woman in the blue dress and bonnet.” She pointed. “I was fortunate enough to have heard your name mentioned several times last night. How long have you been Lord Wiltshire’s secretary, Mr. Lincoln?”
The Earl of Wiltshire had been one of the many men Lydia had mentioned in her letters home during her season. She had written Cassie of any man she had ever danced with, any man who had so much as nodded at her. Cassie’s throat went thick. Her sister had been so excited to be in London, so full of life.
And a monster had stripped her of it.
“Eight years now.” Lincoln ran a hand through his dark hair. “I started as soon as Lord Wiltshire came of age.”
“Do you attend many social events with him?” She bit her lip, wondering how she could bring the conversation back to a specific social event. Any of the questions she had in her mind sounded awkward, especially as the social event in question was five years past. How did investigators discover information without making the people they questioned suspicious?
