The creak of the door behind the clerk silenced Dunston, and Anthony and Timmons both straightened as two watchmen exited the office. Mr.Walstead then took notice of Anthony and Timmons and motioned for them to follow him.
When Anthony entered the office, Mr.Walstead was already standing next to the window behind his desk. He was a short man, much shorter than either Anthony or Timmons, but what he lacked in height he made up for in clever intuition. His tailored worsted-wool black tailcoat and buckled, polished shoes hardly suited the humble environment, but it was that very contradiction that Mr.Walstead thrived on. His story was as famous and fantastic as his exploits.
He motioned to the chairs opposite his cluttered desk. “Sit.”
They did as bid without comment.
“You’re from up by Blight Moor, aren’t you, Welbourne?” He stepped to the sideboard and lifted a decanter of brandy.
Anthony stiffened at the preciseness—and suddenness—of the personal inquiry. “Yes, sir. I am.”
“Next to the village of Lamby, correct?”
Anthony had not heard the name spoken out loud in years. “Yes, sir.”
“Do you still have family there?” Walstead’s questions tumbled forth. “Acquaintances? Friends?”
“No, no family anymore. No acquaintances to speak of. I’ve been back but once since the war, and only for a day.”
Mr.Walstead picked up a glass and poured a drink. “Ever heard of a place called Hollythorne House?”
The name, the precipitous mention of it, struck like a punch in the jaw, and a closed door deep in his memory flew open.
Charlotte Grey’s home.
His uncle’s adversary’s home.
The staunch, stoic structure of blackened stone that dominated the windswept Blight Moor.
His neck grew hot beneath his linen neckcloth. “I’ve heard of it.”
“Good. I’ve an assignment for you. For the both of you.”
Normally the details of a new assignment would fill Anthony with eagerness and purpose. But now his stomach clenched.
Mr. Walstead continued. “You’ve heard Roland Prior died, I’m sure. I was at Wolden House earlier. Saw the body and spoke with the coroner. He suspects apoplexy, but given Mr. Prior’s unconventional practices and dealings, he ordered a full autopsy and will likely call a coroner’s inquest. Furthermore, there’s unrest at the Prior Mill—the one that had been, up until now, overseen by Roland Prior. I’ve still to get to the root of exactly what the issues are, but events like this trigger every manner of dissension. Silas Prior has engaged our services to secure Wolden House and temper the mill workers. Furthermore, Roland Prior’s widowwill be departing Leeds immediately, along with his son and heir. Apparently, she brought Hollythorne House into the marriage and intends to make it her home moving forward.”
Anthony remained perfectly still. He’d show no emotion—make no movement.
And yet, it couldn’t be.
Charlotte Grey... was Mrs.Charlotte Prior?
Anthony struggled to focus on Mr.Walstead’s words.
“Mr.Prior has learned from a concerned butler that Mrs.Prior intends to depart in secret and alone in a borrowed carriage, with only her infant and her maid. One can only assume grief has affected her senses, for she’s seemingly unaware of the danger she’s putting the boy in. Mr.Prior cannot legally prevent her from taking such action, but as overseer to the trust, Mr.Prior does have some power, and as such he’s determined that guards should accompany them, at least until the coroner’s inquest is completed, the situation settles, and he’s confident that there are no unanticipated dangers at Hollythorne House. You two will accompany them, remain with them, and ensure no harm comes to that boy.”
Timmons jumped up, his face brighter than Anthony had seen it in months. “Very good, sir. They’ll be in good ’ands.”
Muddling through his thoughts, Anthony followed suit and stood, but his enthusiasm fizzled. The assignment sparked more questions than provided answers. He’d spent years forcing thoughts of Charlotte Grey to the back of his mind. Leaving her had been the biggest regret of his life. And now he was going to see her? Speak with her? Protect her and her son?
Yet he could not turn down this assignment—his thief-taking career would be ruined.
And he needed these jobs if he was to fund the mill reparations.
He could—and would—save his reservations about seeing Charlotte again and deal with them in private. “When do we depart?”
“On the morrow. Meet at Wolden House at seven. You know where it is, of course. You’ll each take a horse from the stable and use it for the duration of the assignment. Again, your priority is to keep the boy safe, so you will do what’s necessary without interrupting the family life. Not that I expect it to be that spirited. No doubt a woman in mourning will keep a quiet routine. Questions?”
