Sophia bit her lip. “Well, yes. It worked with the roof, didn’t it?”
“No, it bloody didn’t. If you recall, I saw you up there and chased you halfwayacross London!”
Sophia crossed her arms over her chest, nettled at this disparaging account of her rooftop scheme. “Yousaw me, yes. Lord Everly never did.”
Tristan dragged a hand through his hair. “That may be true, but Everly’s far more likely to see you wandering his hallways than lying on his pediment roof, and that’s to say nothing of Sharpe. It’stoo dangerous.”
Dangerous. Sophia blew out a breath at the word. They were back here, again?
“It isn’t even just Everly and Sharpe, either. What of all the other servants? Housemaids, footmen—”
“Tristan.” Sophia lay a hand on his arm to quiet him. “I don’t deny it’s risky, but we’re running out of time. We’ve known since our visit to Jeremy whatever’s happening at St. Clement Dane’s Church didn’t originate with Sharpe. Now we know Lord Everly has a hand in it.” She met and held his gaze. “An important piece of the puzzle has just fallen into place, but we’ll never find out how it fits into the whole without taking some risks.”
“I’ll go see Everly myself, then. I’ll invent some business or other I need to discuss with him. I’ll call on him, he’ll take me to his study, and I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” Sophia interrupted, beginning to lose patience with him. “Interrogate him? Demand to see his private papers? No, Tristan. We know Jeremy didn’t murder Henry Gerrard. Lady Clifford asked me to find out who did it, and why, and that’s what Iintend to do.”
Silence.
Sophia turned her face to the window, her throat closing. She’d suspected it would come to this sooner or later, but with Tristan, she’d hoped it would be later. “This is who I am, Tristan,” she murmured, still not looking at him. “It’s…I know it’s too much for most people.”
Shewas too much for most people. Even Lady Clifford, who’d seen the worst London had to offer, occasionally despaired over Sophia.
“No.” Tristan’s warm fingers touched her chin, and he turned her face back to his. “Notfor me, pixie.”
Sophia’s gaze met his, and she swallowed at the tenderness in those gray eyes.
Tristan cupped her face in his hands. “You’re not too much for me.”
Sophia let her forehead fall against his sturdy chest, her fingers curling into the edges of his coat. Even when the carriage turned onto the Strand, she didn’t move away from him. His soft, warm breath stirred the wisps of hair at her temples, his words echoing in her head, stilling her.
You’re not too much for me.
She’d never before wanted to believe a man’s words quite so badlyas she did now.
Tristan rested his big palm against the back of her head until the carriage drew to a stop in front of the Turk’s Head. Then he stirred, and pressed a kiss to Sophia’s forehead. “Come. Let’s see what we can findout, shall we?”
* * * *
“Dunn, ye say?” Will Pryor, the proprietor of the Turk’s Head rubbed a hand over his bristly jaw.
“Patrick Dunn, yes.” Sophia leaned eagerly toward him. “Have you heard the name before?”
Pryor thought for a moment longer, then shook his head. “Afraid not, miss. It sounds familiar, but I can’t recall why. Beg pardon, but I doubt I’ll be much help to ye.”
Tristan glanced at Sophia, then turned to Pryor. “Dunn was taken up for theft a few months ago, for stealing a man’s pocket watch. The crime took place just down the street from here, at St. ClementDane’s Church.”
The story seemed to jog Pryor’s memory. “Oh, aye,” he said with a slow nod. “I remember him now. I recall thinking it was odd when he was taken up. Seemed a good bloke, did Dunn.”
“Not the thieving sort, then?”Tristan asked.
“Not a bit of it, no. Quiet bloke, studious like, and respectable. Didn’t overindulge in the drink either, not like some of ’em who come here. He’s a silversmith, or somesuch, I think.”
“A weaver. Or he was, before he was convicted of theft.” Sophia’s face darkened. “Now he’s confined to a prison hulk on the Thames, awaiting transport to Australia, and his wife and two children are left alone withno protection.”
Pryor’s mouth twisted. “That’s not right, that isn’t. Not if he didn’t doit, leastways.”
“We have good reason to think he didn’t. That’s why we’re trying to help him. So, you can see, Mr. Pryor, why it’s so important you tell us anything you can remember about the night hewas taken up.”
