“But then, we are so seldom in Town since the twins were born.” Hugh, Earl of Dorchester, smiled fondly at his wife.
“I doubt you’ll see Lady Prudence much in Society for a while,” Jack said. “She is in mourning for her father.”
“Oh, how sad,” Lucy said.
“What is your interest in her, Jack?” Diana asked, her eyes dancing. “She is not one of your closely held secrets, I trust?”
Jack laughed. “Before you both turn it into an affair of the heart, Ipromise I shall tell you more of her story.”
“Oh, yes, do!” both ladies said in unison.
“When?” Diana asked.
Jack winked at Damian. “Perhaps when we dine at the Royal on Friday evening.”
“Oh, you are a tease.” Diana sighed. “Do let’s move on.” She nudged her horse into a trot, and they followed.
Jack cast a look back to see the two women walking away. His friends had happy marriages. It was indeed possible for some people. But it would be foolish for him to consider it even should he come to care for someone. Not with the work he did, which he had no intention of giving up.
Early the following morning, Jack departed London, driving his curricle down Portsmouth Road. He’d disliked seeing the shadows in Lady Prudence’s lovely, sea-green eyes. There was grit, too, evident in her firm chin. It appeared she was still determined to find out who’d murdered her father. He wanted to ease her concerns if he could. But should the murder be related to the ring of saboteurs the Home Office was investigating, he would be unable to tell her about it; his work by necessity, had to remain secret.
He drove on, with the hope that a visit to the magistrate would offer something to give him a lead. At the moment, he had nothing. Their investigation of the suspected saboteurs had failed to produce anything credible, and Jack hated being left in limbo. He preferred to act. It was against his nature to kick his heels and wait for something to turn up. People tended to speak out against the government and talk was cheap. But to be so committed to change that they sanctioned such a violent crime? Home Office needed to find them.
It was past midday when he entered the home of the magistrate, Sir John, in Guilford. A footman showed him into the study. “Good to see you, Sir John.”
“And you, Lord Hereford.” The middle-aged man rose frombehind his desk to shake Jack’s hand. He had thinning ginger hair, his gray-green eyes revealing keen intelligence. Sir John waved Jack to a chair. “I have some information to impart. Not much, nor as conclusive as we should like, but it could lead somewhere.”
Jack sat as Sir John cleared his throat.
“A possible suspect,” Sir John continued. “Or should I sayprobable? He has not been seen in this part of the country before and was observed on the Portsmouth Road, and again in the village not far from the earl’s estate.”
“Do you have a good description of the man?”
“Sources in Wandsworth and Esher reported a stranger who stopped for a meal and to water his horse. Their descriptions tally. He’s of lean build with dark whiskers. Has an abrupt manner. Swarthy, someone said. Dark eyes. He wore a brown coat with a black hat. It appears he rode down from London. I know that doesn’t help much. The city is a big place.”
“Quite so.” Jack rubbed his jaw. “But it tells us that it was not a local matter. It’s possible he’s a hired assassin.”
“Although the question remains as to why anyone would want to murder Lord Sedgwick,” Sir John said. “A most personable gentleman.”
“Precisely, and I intend to find his killer.”
Sir John made to rise. “I wish I had more to tell you. May I offer you coffee or wine or something to eat, my lord, before you return?”
“No, thank you, Sir John. I’ll leave for London immediately. You might tell me where to locate those who saw this fellow, if you will. I’ll stop and have a word with them on my way. Perhaps I can ascertain from what area of the city the man came.”
Jack took to the road again. When he reached Esher, a small, sleepy village, he reined in at the stables where the farrier, Jeremy McBain, who had dealt with the man in question, curried a roan mare.
At his inquiry, McBain removed his hat and scratched his head. “He waited while I shod his horse. Sullen fellow who gave little away about himself. But my daughter was here and managed to satisfy her curiosity. East End was my guess. Something he said to her led me to believe he came from the Stepney area. Wasn’t forthcoming about where he was headed, however. Somewhere in the city is my guess.” He hung up the curry brush. “Asked him what he was doing down this way, but he wouldn’t say.”
Jack was sure he had the answer to that. But Stepney was a large parish in the East End. He hoped for a better description. “Can you describe him?”
“Mm. Brown coat and black breeches. Lean and dark, with longish hair and whiskers. My young daughter thought he looked poetic.” He shrugged. “So, as you can imagine, I was relieved when he rode on.”
“Did you see him again?”
“No, thank the Lord.”
The farrier’s pretty daughter came in and shyly bobbed.
