“I’ll see to that while you see to a few more quotes on the gutter works.” Edmund strode away as the driver halted the horse near the front stairs.
Out stepped a well-dressed gent, pressing creases from his trousers as he gazed up at the house. The garments were of quality, though ill-fitted and quite wrinkled, and as for the man? A strange unease prickled across Edmund’s shoulders. If he didn’t know any better, he’d be tempted to shoo the fellow away for the unnerving glint in his eyes as he studied the mansion ... eyes that were familiar yet with a calculating gaze that was not. The broad forehead, wide nose, and cleftchin where whiskers didn’t grow were all recognizable—but somehow different.
“Gil?” he wondered aloud. “Can it be?”
He hadn’t seen his business partner, Gilbert Fletcher, since before he sailed to India. The silver threads in the man’s dark hair were new, as were the sharp cheekbones and the pallor of his skin. My, how he’d aged, and not kindly.
Gil strode over and grabbed his hand for a hearty shake. “Good to see you.”
“You as well.” Edmund pulled back. “But I wasn’t expecting you until the end of the month. You should have sent word.”
Indeed. Fletcher was usually scrupulous about such minute details.
“Thought I’d surprise you.” Gil slapped him on the back.
Edmund’s eyes narrowed. “You hate surprises.”
Gil laughed. “People change all the time, old man.”
Edmund rubbed his jaw to hide a frown. First popping in unannounced and now such common language? The conservative businessman really had changed. “How have you been?”
“Never better. Quite invigorated, I should say. What man wouldn’t be with the sun on his face and wind in his hair? I’m hoping we can strike up some new deals while I’m here.”
He frowned.Newdeals? Did Gil think so little of the Egyptian antiquities? “I should think my recent acquisition would be deal enough.”
“Oh? Already got a game on, have you? Capital!” Gil rubbed his hands together. “Say, you don’t mind if I stay on here, do you? Save us both the trouble of commuting back and forth and, well, a hired coach isn’t the way to go.”
“Agreed. You shall stay here and have the use of one of my carriages. I cannot wait to hear about the good news you mentioned in your recent letter. But I suppose you’d like to see the cargo I’ve acquired first, eh?” Edmund swept his arm toward the house.
Gil cocked his head, a smile spreading, though it seemedmore a baring of teeth than anything. “Why, yes, I’d love to see it. Lead on, my good fellow!”
Edmund trotted up the stairs, conflicted about the changes in the other half of Price & Fletcher. It was to be expected, though, after so long an absence. Even Jameson had remarked on the changes in him.
They barely crossed the threshold when the butler strolled out of the sitting room, an empty decanter in hand. Edmund signaled him over.
“Yes, sir?” Barnaby asked.
“Mr. Fletcher will be staying with us a few days. See that he is taken care of, will you?”
“At once.” He nodded, then faced Gil. “Price House always aims to make its guests feel comfortable. Let me know if there is anything I can do to be of service to you, Mr. Fletcher.”
Gil grinned. “I have no doubt I shall beverycomfortable.”
A scream rang out, ruining the prospect of comfort for any of them. Footsteps pounded across the great hall in the corridor—the same passageway housing the room where Miss Dalton worked.
Edmund took off at a run.
Ami yawned as she entered the workroom. Spending the night scheming how to squeeze twenty-seven hours from twenty-four was never a good recipe for sleep. But a little sluggishness was worth it, for in all that tossing and turning, she had devised how to shave time off a run into town tonight to purchase those amulets ... as long as Polly agreed to help her. Which shouldn’t be difficult if Turkish delight was involved.
Her mouth stretched for another yawn when a scream from the far side of the room scared it away. Before she could even blink, a white-faced maid sprinted past her, apron strings flying in the air. What in the world had spooked her so?
Ami bypassed the golden griffin, giving it the evil eye as she strode to the dropped tote of brushes and rags the frightened girl had left behind. Something moved. Steadying her pulse, shepeered into the thin space between two crates. A dark shadow twitched—one that stared right back at her. She stretched her arm into the abyss as footsteps pounded into the room.
“Great heavens! Miss Dalton, are you all right?” Worry pitched Mr. Price’s voice to a husky tone. And no wonder. What a sight she must be contorted into such a strange position.
“I’m—ow!” Pain pierced her finger. She flinched. Bosh. She’d be hanged if she’d let this little demon get the best of her. Undaunted, she wedged her shoulder as far as it would go between the crates, stretching until her muscles ached. And...
Triumph!
