“Have you seen Gillingham since the incident?”
Derrick Huntington lifted his gaze from his paperwork to his partner, Edward Barber. The carriage they were riding in rocked slightly as they turned a corner, and he steadied himself before he spoke.
“Theincident,” Derrick repeated with an arched brow for his friend and partner. “Is that what we’re calling the moment where the man nearly died in battle for his comrades? Forus?”
Barber’s hand moved to touch the shoulder where he had been shot in the battle. Derrick’s own arm tingled as they spoke of it. Minor injuries, enough to put them both out of service, but most of the men in the company had survived unscathed thanks to Gillingham’s bravery. His injuries had not been minor.
“Since his return to London, then,” Barber corrected himself. “Have you called on him?”
“Once,” Derrick said. “At the beginning. He likely doesn’t recall it, he was in such a bad way.”
Barber’s head bent and his lips pressed hard together. For a moment the carriage was quiet, and then Barber shifted the papers in his lap. “Well, if he is kind enough to help us, then it will make things easier.”
Derrick nodded, but their conversation was cut off as the carriage arrived. He stepped out, stretching his back. Damned carriages were always hell on him because he was so tall. He preferred to ride a horse, but when it came to calls like this, the carriage was a necessity.
They walked up together to the door and were greeted by a redheaded butler with a scar that slashed from his forehead, down under the patch on his eye and across his cheek below. Derrick caught his breath at the same time Barber did.
“Evans?” they both said together.
The butler gave them a grin and motioned them into the foyer. Once the door was shut, he extended a hand and the men broke normal protocol with a servant by shaking.
“Aye, it’s me,” he said. “And a pleasure to see you both, it’s like old times.”
“You serve Gillingham?” Derrick asked. “You weren’t the butler when I came to call right after his return.”
“Still recovering myself,” Evans said, and some of his joviality faded. “But you know Gillingham. He’s too decent a lot not to help. He hired me…it will be a year on the fifteenth, actually. He doesn’t seem to care that his butler has a bit of a cockney twist. Though I do try to…” He straightened his shoulders and stifled a grin as his accent went far more proper. “…intone with gravitas.”
“That’s wonderful, Evans,” Derrick said. “He’s expecting us, yes?”
Evans nodded and led them up a hall to a parlor. It was a fine room, elegantly appointed and neatly kept. Evans motioned to the tea that was already laid out on the sideboard and then disappeared to find their host.
“He’s certainly bringing himself up in the world,” Derrick mused as he stepped up to a painting that hung on the wall next to the fire. A beautiful piece that must have been expensive.
“But not forgetting those he left behind,” Barber agreed. “It speaks highly of him.”
The door behind them opened and Nicholas Gillingham appeared. He leaned heavily on a cane and seemed stiff as he stepped into the room. For a moment, his expression was cool, distant, but then his dark eyes twinkled and he extended the hand not on his cane as he came toward them.
“I cannot say how happy I am to see you both,” Gillingham said as he shook their hands in turn and then motioned them to sit. For a while they spoke, catching up on their time in the army, the whereabouts of old friends and the state of current military politics.
At last Gillingham leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. “That you were both to come to call today was a high point of my week, I assure you.”
“We should have come sooner,” Barber said. “It’s been too long.”
“Too long, indeed,” Gillingham agreed. Then his dark gaze flitted between them. “But I’m wondering when you’ll tell me theofficialbusiness you’ve called about.”
Both of Derrick’s brows lifted. “You think we’re here on military business?”
“No.” Gillingham sipped his tea before he continued. “Both of you left all that after your injuries. The Bow Street Runners for you, Huntington, but not for long. And about six months ago, you and Barber started your own, more private investigative service.”
Derrick stared at him for a long moment, keeping any reaction from his face. “You know a great deal.”
“I kept up on my comrades,” Gillingham said softly. “Especially those injured the same day I was. I didn’t want to leave anyone behind.”
“It’s how you ended up hiring Evans,” Barber said.
Gillingham nodded. “Yes. But you two were making your way just fine without my interference. Still, I admire your ingenuity. Both of you are fine minds, and with the connections to your grandfather, Huntington, I assume you are getting cases from the upper class. People who need discretion.”
“Yes,” Derrick admitted, but added nothing else.
