“It is not much of a skill,” she averred.
“There’s no need to be modest, Fi,” Livy said. “You have gotten us out of more than one corner by reading people correctly.”
“As a recent example, you adroitly handled the situation with Vera Engle,” Pippa added.
“It was nothing—” Fi began.
“Why is it difficult to accept your due, my dear?” Charlie asked abruptly.
Because I do not deserve praise. I am not as talented as my friends. I just work hard.
Under Charlie’s scrutiny, Fi felt like a butterfly trapped beneath glass.
“It’s, um, not,” she said awkwardly. “I am glad to contribute where I can.”
Charlie’s gaze lingered a moment longer. “Good. For you have my vote of confidence as well, Fiona. I have learned that Mrs. Swann interviews prospective clients on Tuesday evenings—which happens to be tomorrow night. Shall I procure you an appointment?”
Fi nodded. “Yes. You may count on me.”
She would have to miss supper with Hawk, but she was certain he would understand. After all, he had his own engagement—some scientific gathering—tonight. In truth, they were both so busy that she ought to create a combined social calendar for them. She liked the idea of coordinating their schedules. Of them being accountable to one another, even when they were off on their separate endeavors. Of her and Hawk sharing more and more.
Maybe someday,came the unbidden thought,you might even tell him about the Angels.
Trepidation shivered through her. What would her husband have to say about that?
“Bloody hell.” Hawk expelled a breath. “How did this happen?”
He was standing at a dark corner with Trent and Devlin. His colleagues had tracked down von Essen at his club on St. James’s Street, and Hawk had just arrived to meet them. Instead of collecting their target for a chat, however, they were staring at his unmoving form lying across the street. The sickly glow of a gas lamp revealed von Essen’s trampled state, his innards a gory bouquet above his shredded waistcoat. He attracted a milling crowd that the constables were trying to disperse to make way for the approaching mortuary cart.
“It happened minutes before we arrived,” Trent said in a low voice. “I heard eyewitnesses talking to the constables. They said a carriage came out of nowhere, plowing into von Essen as he was leaving his club. The driver made no attempt to stop, and he wore a dark neckerchief over his face.”
“Not an accident, then,” Hawk said grimly.
“Christ.” Devlin looked queasy as two men grabbed hold of von Essen’s arms and legs, tossing him into the cart like a side of beef. “Do you think his murder is related to our case?”
“He had his fingers in a lot of unsavory pies,” Trent muttered. “Pawning, stealing, blackmailing…the list goes on. But the timing of his death, just as we were closing in on him, feels like too much of a coincidence.”
“A coincidence is often a pattern that hasn’t been recognized.” Hawk lowered the brim of his hat as the cart drove off, and the onlookers began to scatter. “My gut tells me the Sherwood bastards are behind this.”
“Von Essen knew too much,” Trent agreed. “And they got rid of him…and our best lead.”
“As to that.” Devlin had a cat-that-got-the-cream look on his face. “I tracked down the origin of the vinaigrette. To a rather special kind of shop.”
“What’s so special about it?” Trent furrowed his brow.
Devlin smirked. “Oh, you’re going to love this.”
Twenty-Four
“Iam not certain you should undertake this mission alone,” Charlie said pensively.
Fi’s mentor did not often show ambivalence. They were standing in the antechamber of Charlie’s home, and Fi was about to embark on her night’s mission.
“I can manage Mrs. Swann.” Fi donned her gloves. “Bringing others will only rouse suspicion. Trust me.”
“I do trust you, my dear.” Charlie sighed. “But this von Essen business has me on edge.”
The count’s death had come as a shock. According to the papers, he’d been mowed down by an anonymous carriage last evening. Charlie suspected this was no accident; with von Essen’s shady dealings, he could have had any number of enemies.
