“I’m not telling you,” I said, like a petulant child.
He gave me a rather smug smile. “That’s a no, then.”
I rolled my eyes, but was secretly glad we were back on safer ground. It was far better to be annoying each other than attempting to broach the past. At least now I could lay that last delusion to rest and put it all behind me.
“I was thinking of speaking to Mrs. Pearson,” he said after a moment. “If she is in town, of course.”
“And how exactly do you intend to find her?”
“Well, I expect she will make an appearance at her own husband’s funeral,” he said easily.
I arched a brow. “You’re going?”
He mirrored my expression. “Aren’t you?”
I turned away with a scowl. It felt as though the man had a copy of my diary. “Yes,” I said with a reluctant nod. “But that isn’t until the end of the week.”
“I’m open to your suggestions in the meantime,” he said, spreading his arms. I snorted in response. “You may as well tell me what you’re planning, Mrs. Harper. I’ll find out anyway.”
I bristled at his confidence. This man really did think he had me all figured out. “I haven’t decided yet,” I said loftily.
He watched me for a moment. “Very well. But do let me know who you land on.”
I did not respond to this and instead moved ahead. Tommy was now on the bank of the river, poking at something with a stick, and I needed to intervene.
“You can’t do this alone,” he called out.
I did not look back and simply raised my hand. I did not agree, of course, and Mr. Dorian would never think such a thing about himself. I felt more determined than ever to seek out the truth, now with the added benefit of proving him wrong.
Once I shepherded my son away from the water, we did not speak of the murder again. Instead, I let Tommy lead the discussion, which naturally revolved around all the creatures we had seen at the museum. Mr. Dorian walked us all the way to Hyde Park Street, but just as I was about to bid him good-bye, Tommy spoke up.
“You must call on us again next week, Mr. Dorian,” he said eagerly.
“Only if your mother allows it,” the fiend replied, shooting me a questioning look.
I bit back a sigh. “Of course. If you can find the time, that is. I know you are very busy,” I added.
Mr. Dorian smiled. “I am. But I can always make time for the Harpers.”
It took everything in me not to narrow my eyes at this pronouncement, while Tommy cheered in delight. We then mercifully parted ways.
“Did you not tell Mr. Dorian we were coming to London?” Tommy asked as we headed back to my aunt’s flat.
“No, I did not,” I admitted and held my breath, as I truly did not want to explain that Mr. Dorian and I hadn’t been onspeaking terms these last few months, or the events that had precipitated that. But luckily, this answer seemed to satisfy Tommy, and I let out a breath of relief. If Cleo had been with us, for example, she would have been relentless in her pursuit of the truth.
We arrived back at the flat around three in the afternoon, and I decided to pay a visit to Delia and see how she was faring. I asked Tommy if he wanted to come with me, but he was more interested in reading through more of my late uncle’s reference books. After Mrs. Ford assured me she didn’t mind keeping an eye on Tommy, I set out for Portman Square.
I was ushered inside by Cartwright, the footman. “Hello. I’ve come to see my sister.”
He nodded as he took my coat. “I believe she is in the parlor with a visitor.”
Well, this was encouraging news. Not only was Delia up, she was receiving guests.
“Good. And is my mother in?”
“No, Mrs. Harper. She has gone out.”
I was just about to reply to this when a young woman came down the hall. She wore a long, dark blue coat that matched her eyes and a hat I recognized as being a few years out of fashion, as mine was quite similar. Her light brown hair was tucked neatly, if plainly, under her hat.
