Indira’s words pinged in his mind.
He stood in the quiet room for a few more minutes, realizing that being alone and being lonely were two very different things; you could be one and not the other.
But at the moment, he was both.
Anne hadthe good fortune of avoiding Lord Grumpy-Trousers the rest of the afternoon and early evening.
At least until dinner. She’d dressed in one of her nicer gowns, a pale-green silk with ecru lace trim.
More guests had arrived, including Miranda and Lord and Lady Montgomery.
When Anne hurried downstairs, a footman stopped her. “Miss Weatherby, Her Grace requested you join her.” He pointed down the hall.
Voices rose from the direction of the library, and Anne hurried toward them, eager to hear if there had been any new reports fromThe Muckraker.
The horrible scandal sheet had mysteriously vanished for almost a year after poor Victor Pratt had been shot behindThe Knave of Hearts. Many had speculated the culprit had either died or someone had discovered their identity and silenced them through threat or bribery.
Anne still had her suspicions that Lydia Whyte was more directly involved than the League gave her credit for, although her argument that Lydia’s absence from London directly coincided withThe Muckraker’sunnerving cessation fell on deaf ears. Why would no one take her seriously?
When reports from the gossip rag finally did recommence—the same time Lydia returned to London, Anne was quick to point out—it was as if someone else was writing the paper. It had taken on a softer, gentler tone, mimickingThe Town Tattler’suse of initials and brandishing less vitriolic accusations.
The League continued its investigation, but attempts to ferret out the perpetrator had so far come to naught.
Charlotte’s voice rose above the din as Anne entered the room. “I don’t believe it’s Edgerton, Miranda.”
Gathered in a circle around a desk where Bea sat, Honoria, Charlotte, and Miranda peered down at a paper.
“Are we having a meeting?” Anne asked.
All turned their attention toward Anne.
Honoria stepped forward and took Anne’s arm. “Not to worry, dear. Now that Bea has arrived, we were just starting. Miranda has some news about Edgerton.”
Miranda nodded. “And Charlotte is in denial. But that juicy bit of gossip she dangled before Edgerton has borne fruit.”
Anne searched her memory. “You mean about Lord Nash receiving a windfall from his investment in the railway?” She turned toward Charlotte. “Didn’t you mention that to Edgerton almost a year ago?”
“Exactly,” Charlotte said. “And he told me he couldn’t care less about Nash’s success. Plus”—she held up a finger—“there were no reports fromThe Muckrakerabout it.”
“Good arguments, but flawed, I’m afraid,” Bea said.
Charlotte placed her hands on her hips. “How so?”
Anne bit back the evil satisfaction of knowing she was about to see Charlotte brought to task by Bea, a woman as petite as she was.
Bea pushed her spectacles up her nose with an index finger. “The Muckraker’slack of reporting about Lord Nash’s success makes perfect sense. First, because being in America, not many here in England care about what happens in the colonies. Secondly, you said yourself Edgerton couldn’t care less—which is precisely why he wouldn’t include it inThe Muckraker’sreports. It would shine a light on him if that particularon ditdid show up. Whichbrings me to my last point to counter your argument about the length of time that has transpired.”
Bea, just get to the point!
Bea shot her a glance and hitched an eyebrow. In addition to her scientific brilliance, did the woman also read minds?
Or had she inadvertently expressed her frustration aloud? Every now and then, words would slip out unbidden. She forced a smile at Bea. “Please continue.”
“Investments take time, and Laurence mentioned that he overheard Edgerton speaking to Lord Felix a week ago about an investment in the railway that was reaping tremendous dividends.”
“My source reported the same information they overheard from Lord Felix,” Miranda said. “Which was my point earlier about Edgerton when Charlotte objected.”
Hands still firmly planted on her hips, Charlotte glared at Miranda. “Just who is this mysterious source of yours? Why won’t you give us a name? I think it’s all a fabrication so you feel you’re contributing.”
