“Could have. Bart was spoiling for it, though, as I’ve said.” The publican held up a plate-sized hand. “One of my regulars saw another man pick up Bart’s bottle. He couldn’t see what he did with it, as his back was to him. Might have just read the label for all we know.”
“Did you get a description of him?”
He shook his head. “Better dressed than most and short, with dark hair, is all. Haven’t seen him in here since.”
Jason dropped some coins into the publican’s palm then handed him his card. “You’ve been helpful. The man might turn up again. Anything you feel I should know, send a note to this address. I’ll make it worth your while.”
The publican grinned. “Bit of skullduggery brightens me life.”
As he made his way to Kinsey House, Jason admitted he was far too eager to see Helen again.
Helen, her cheeks flushed, hurried to greet him as Fiske admitted him to the house. “I am pleased that you called, Lord Peyton. Mother isn’t here, I’m afraid.” She turned to the butler. “We’ll have tea in the library, thank you, Fiske.”
As soon as the door closed, she turned to him, her gray eyes anguished. “Our housemaid Alice is ill. A painful stomach complaint.”
He rubbed his neck as prickles climbed his spine. “The doctor has been called?”
“Yes, but he couldn’t discover the cause. As Alice was feeling a little better this morning, we have sent her home to her mother.”
Although Helen did not express her fears in so many words, it was clear that the possibility of Alice being poisoned had occurred to her as it had him.
“A wise decision. It’s to be hoped she recovers quickly.”
“Indeed yes. Alice’s mother resides in Cherrywood Village, where there’s an excellent doctor should Alice need further treatment. But I have something else to tell you. Yesterday, I noticed a letter from Mr. Volta lying on the desk. When I tried to read it, Mr. Thorburn acted quite oddly. He practically snatched it away from me. After he went home, I returned to read it.”
Her concern and vulnerability called to him, but he kept his hands resolutely at his sides while his desire to take her in his arms warred with his responsibility to shake some sense into her. Alice’s illness already had ice threading through his veins. “Prevented you? Not forcefully?”
She walked over to her father’s desk. “Now you are teasing me. Of course not. He merely took the letter from me and placed it in this portfolio.”
“Why did you attempt to read Volta’s letter? Hadn’t we decided to wait for your father? You have signaled your interest to Thorburn,” he said brusquely. “You might have thought it through. Such an action was rash and could be dangerous.”
She turned away from him, her shoulders stiff with indignation. “Why do men think we women incapable of rational thought? Jeremy was outside in the corridor. I knew I was in no danger from Mr. Thorburn.”
“You knew no such thing. You thought the risk worth taking.”
She waved that away. “If you’ll just stop lecturing me, I’ll tell you the rest of it. What I have since learned.” She selected a leather-covered folder from the desk. “It’s all in here. My father’s drawings, his discussions with Volta. But I can only read a smattering of Italian. I hoped you can do better.” She untied the ribbons and opened it out on the desk.
Still determined to get his point across, he raised an eyebrow at her then sifted through the correspondence, notes, and drawings, pausing to study a sketch taken from the wall of an Egyptian tomb. “I wonder what this is.”
She moved closer, drawing his attention away from the etching with the sound of her breath and her womanly scent. Fear for her when he was not here to safeguard her mingled with an increasing desire to grow closer.
“Where is Lady Kinsey?”
“Away from home. Mama’s latest charity for poor relief is taking up much of her time.” She glowered at him and traced a finger over the sketch. “But is this not extraordinary? These two long glass cylinders the two figures are holding are attached by some length of cord. Inside them looks to be something akin to a pair of electric eels. Of course, I can’t decipher the inscription. But I don’t doubt my father has done so.” Her eyes sought his with an urgency that made him catch his breath. “It appears that Papa and Mr. Volta, who, as we know invented the Voltaic pile, have been working together.” She selected a letter. “It says here that they believe this proves that light can be produced from a new and different source, an electrical current of some kind that can light up a lamp and possibly the streets of London.”
“Remarkable,” he murmured.
“Isn’t it?” She leaned over him to sort through the portfolio. “My father has stated in his notes that, when the first foray into Egyptian tombs was made, no sign of candlewax or oil was found to show how the Egyptians lighted those windowless stone spaces. He believes they had discovered another way of producing light and that this drawing, which he translates to mean electric fish, gives a hint of it.”
“Good Lord!”
“Yes. I believe Bart was caught up in this.”
“That’s certainly possible.”
Her fingers clutched his sleeve. “Don’t you see? Bart must have discovered the plot to steal Papa’s plans and was killed for it. Why else turn to the government for help? And another letter from Volta has arrived today.”
It was also possible that Bart had been involved initially and then, for some reason, turned against the conspirators. He didn’t want to think badly of a man he liked. He reluctantly drew his gaze from Helen’s vivid face to study Volta’s latest letter. “First, let me see what Volta has to say.”
