He reminded her of the man beneath her window, though shadow, distance, and the movement of the street made it impossible to be certain.
Kate moved toward the door before she had fully decided to do so. She nearly dropped the book in her haste to shove it back onto the shelf and rush to the front of the shop.
“Tess!”
But by the time she reached the street, the figure was gone.
A carriage rumbled past, splattering mud in every direction. A flower girl argued with a customer over her prices. Two gentlemen passed in deep conversation. But the man had vanished.
Tess appeared beside her, breathless and concerned. “What is it, my lady?”
“There was a man across the street,” Kate said. “I believe he was the same man who was watching my house.”
Tess searched the street. “I am sorry, I do not see anyone.”
Neither did Kate.
She reentered the shop and stopped at the counter. “Mr. Wells, do you know the man who was standing across the street just now?”
The bookseller craned his neck to peer out the window. “I am sorry, Lady Katherine. I did not notice anyone in particular.”
Kate tamped down her rising frustration. The bookshop had yielded nothing. No messenger. No ledger. No name. Only the uneasy feeling that she was being watched.
Everything she had hoped to discover collapsed into a single, unavoidable certainty. Hugh could tell her nothing. The bookseller knew nothing. That left only one person.
“Come, Tess.”
She walked toward the door once again, with more force in her step than necessary.
If James possessed even one piece of the truth, she meant to learn it.
They navigated the crowded thoroughfare toward James’s town house, dodging passersby enjoying the rare sunshine and eager street vendors hawking their wares. Their walk was accompanied by the jarring rumble of carriages and delivery wagons on the cobblestone street. Kate and Tess stopped only long enough to buy several bunches of violets from two young girls whose desperate faces tugged at Kate’s heart.
Nerves fluttered as she reached James’s doorstep, and not just because she was a lady visiting the home of a bachelor. There was every chance his servants would recognize her from the night before. The watchmen and her hired hackney driver had loaded James into the carriage, and his servants had taken over when they reached his home. She and Tess had pulled their hoods low and stayed in the shadowed corners of the hackney, but it only took one glance at the wrong moment for her secret to be revealed.
Tess rapped the knocker at the Earl of Brenton’s home and a middle-aged butler she had not seen before opened the door and surveyed her with careful reserve. Relief moved through her when he showed no sign of recognition.
“I have come to call on Lord Brenton.” She tried to appear confident.
The man inclined his head in acknowledgment. “I regret to inform you that Lord Brenton is not home to visitors at present.”
“I understand, but my business is urgent. Would you be so good as to take my card to him? I am quite certain he will make an exception.” She drew a calling card from her reticule and passed it to him. In truth, she was not certain James would make an exception for her, but she needed answers. More than that, she needed to assure herself that the blow had left no lasting injury. She had lain awake long into the night wondering if she should have stayed to take care of him.
The butler opened the door wider, ushering them inside.
Kate and Tess moved past him into a large entryway, and a maid appeared to take their bonnets and pelisses. The black-and-white tiled floor gleamed. Portraits in gilded frames lined the wall. The side table displayed a vase full of fresh roses, their soft scent calming her nerves. The house was unusually hushed, as though even the servants had been warned to tread softly while their master recovered.
Tess laid a hand on her arm. “Lady Katherine, are you certain you wish to visit him today?” The concern in her voice was unusual, especially since she had shown far less alarm when Kate had shared her plan to visit the rookery. Her maid seemed more willing to aid her in clandestine activities than allow her to visit a bachelor in his home.
“We shall not stay long, Tess,” she reassured her as the butler returned down the stairs.
He gave her a bow. “Lord Brenton will see you in the blue drawing room, my lady. Allow me to show you the way.”
When the butler led her into the room, however, it was so dim she needed a moment to find her bearings. The curtains were tightly closed against the afternoon sun, and a low fire in the hearth provided the only light.
As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she found James stretched along a patterned blue sofa, a wool blanket spread over him. He lay with his head on a pillow, one arm resting over his eyes. Had he drifted asleep in the few minutes it took her to walk to the room? She moved closer and the worst of her dread eased.
Other than a bandage wrapped around his head, she could not see any other injuries. She leaned forward to inspect the bandage, instinctively adjusting a loosened edge.
