“It’s a start,” he said, although he couldn’t help but wonder just what else she was capable of solving when she put her mind to it.
Mr. Bloomington returned, and they told him they had all they needed. He seemed relieved as he led them through the gallery and back out into the daylight.
Asher looked over at Evelyn, who was still contemplative. He wanted to express all he was feeling — praise, gratitude, admiration — but he knew if he did so, he might only draw her closer, and he couldn’t risk that.
Not now.
He cleared his throat, but instead of saying what he truly wanted to, all he said was, “We should document what you observed. Quietly.”
Evelyn nodded, and Asher had to continue to fight the urge to pull her closer, to enjoy the benefits that should come with having a wife.
But he was too concerned about what that could mean — for both of them.
“Mr. Pine sent a note. He congratulated us on our marriage to start, and also told us that he couldn’t track anything further from the note itself. He also found the messenger but the boy had found the note and money on the front step.”
“That’s frustrating.”
“It is, but there’s not much more he can do. He’s already gone beyond his usual services.”
“Do you have plans for this evening?” Evelyn asked once they were within the carriage, the doors shutting them into its opulence, seated across from one another as they began to move through the still-quiet London streets.
“I have nowhere to be,” he said quietly, leaving it at that.
A strange tension was humming between them, one he had never before experienced and couldn’t quite explain. Silence stretched, and anytime Asher glanced toward Evelyn, he found that she would quickly dart her gaze away, as though she didn’t want him to catch her.
But he wouldn’t have minded. She was his wife. She could look all she wanted, and he was having a hard time keeping himself from staring into those beautiful hazel eyes, wanting to learn more about what lay behind them.
Through the small carriage window, the city rolled past, but he didn’t have much interest in seeing what was outside — it was what was within that meant the most to him.
The carriage jolted slightly, and Evelyn rocked forward but caught herself on the seat, preventing herself from falling into Asher’s outstretched arms. Before his disappointment could set in, however, there was a much more abrupt jerk, and she shot forward, out of her seat and nearly onto his lap.
Instinctively, Asher’s arms wrapped around her as he kept her from falling, even as he nearly lost his own seat.
“What was that?” Evelyn gasped, her head leaning back to look up at him.
“I don’t know,” Asher murmured as the carriage slowed unexpectedly before the wheels ground unevenly, and eventually they came to a stop. “But I’ll find out.”
He set her back in the seat, then eased the door open and called up to the driver.
“Jacobs? What was that?”
“A loose wheel is my guess,” the driver, who had dismounted, said as he walked around the carriage, inspecting each of the wheels in turn.
Asher turned to look back in the carriage. “I’ll be right back,” he told Evelyn, wanting to direct her to stay put but knowing that she likely wouldn’t take kindly to being told what to do.
“A broken trace,” the driver called out from the other side as Asher looked up, catching Evelyn’s inquisitive stare through the window. “Your grace?” He called, concern in his voice.
Asher rounded the carriage, finding the driver staring at him nervously.
“What is it, Jacobs?” he asked, feeling there was more to this than than just a broken wheel.
Jacobs shifted back and forth from one foot to the other, his eyes moving nervously from side to side.
“I think… I think this was done deliberately.”
“While we were at Eastclere’s?” Asher demanded. “Were you not with the carriage?”
“No, I wasn’t,” Jacobs said, scratching at his head. “I, ah, went in for a tipple with some of Lord Eastclere’s staff.”
