“I wasn’t skulking. I just came to find a book,” he protested.
“Well go find one elsewhere,” Rosie said imperiously. “Polly and I are using the library at the moment.”
Edward’s green gaze travelled from the empty shelf to the pile of books on the floor. “Are you two eavesdropping on Papa?”
“Hush, for heaven’s sake.” Rosie hurried over, dragging her brother inside and closing the door behind him. “Must you announce it to all the world?”
“Why are you trying to listen in on Papa and his partners?”
“It is none of your business,” Rosie said loftily.
“It’s because of the earl, isn’t it?” Edward’s eyes turned speculative.
Precocious as a child, Edward was now an adolescent possessed of a startlingly keen intelligence. Marianne had ruefully called him the “Little Professor” until he’d contradicted her, saying that he didn’t plan to become a scholar but an investigator like his father. In fact, he and his cousin Freddy planned on establishing their own private enquiry firm one day—a venture Violet had humorously dubbed, “Fredward & Associates.”
Rosie said crossly, “Don’t you have anything better to do than to torment me?”
“Not really. I’m at loose ends until Freddy comes over.” Going over to the bookcase, Edward stuck his ear to the wood paneling. “Can’t hear much this way, can you?”
“Will youpleasebe quiet?” Rosie said with a touch of desperation.
“All right.” Shrugging, Edward strolled back toward the entrance. “Seeing as you aren’t interested in listening to what is going on in the study, I’ll just be on my way—”
“Hold up.” Rosie’s gaze narrowed. “Do you know a better way of eavesdropping?”
Pivoting, Edward nodded.
When he added nothing more, Rosie demanded, “Well, spit it out.”
His brows lifted. “I thought you wanted me to be quiet?”
Edward might be a genius, but he was still an adolescent, Polly thought ruefully. Like any self-respecting younger brother, he couldn’t resist trying to get his sister’s goat.
Seeing Rosie’s rising color, Polly intervened. “Be a dear, Edward, and tell us how to do it.”
“Since Aunt Polly asked so nicely,”—Edward flashed an impish grin—“I’ll be right back.”
He loped off. When he returned a few minutes later, he had a pair of gadgets in hand. Each device consisted of two metal funnels, one larger and one smaller, connected by a length of metal tubing.
“What on earth are those?” Rosie said.
“Ears of Stealth,” her brother said proudly. “Freddy and I invented them for the purpose of clandestine monitoring. They’re even collapsible for easy portability.” He shortened and lengthened the metal tubing with clear relish. “We were inspired by Mr. Rein’s ear trumpets, you see, which operate on the principle of collecting sound waves and intensifying their impact on the eardrums, thereby—”
“Never mind the science lesson,” Rosie said, rolling her eyes. “How do youusethem?”
“It’s quite elementary.” Edward led the way over to the bookcase. Pulling the funnels apart, he positioned the larger funnel against the wood and fitted the smaller end to his sister’s ear.
Rosie’s face lit up. She whispered, “I can hear what they’re saying. You’re a blessedgenius.”
Beaming, Edward handed Polly the second pair. Before she could try out the device, the doorbell rang.
“That must be Freddy,” Edward said. “You two all right without me?”
Rosie waved him away, and he ambled off, closing the door behind him. Joining her sister at the wall, Polly placed the larger funnel against the wood, and voices flowed with startling clarity from the contraption into her ear.
“… located Miss Nicoletta French at Number 12 Castle Street, a townhouse owned by her employer, Corbett.” The somber tones belonged to Ambrose. “During my interview with Miss French, she denied the presence of another man that evening. According to her, you’d been drinking heavily all night, and after the two of you, ahem, completed your transaction, you went mad and assaulted her. She claims you stopped only when you lost consciousness.”
Dear God, Revelstoke beat a woman?Polly exchanged shocked, wide-eyed looks with Rosie.
