“Who are these ladies?”
“Lady Tadcaster, sister to an under-secretary. Lady Tenby, wife to the private secretary. Lady Thurwood, cousin to a clerk. Lady Tremlach, niece to an Office of Law bookkeeper.”
“Lady Twyford?”
Hugh frowned. “My superior’s wife?”
Lord Rainham cast the deftest of nods.
“I… I would assume Ross did not include the lady as she is never in Town, but moreover why–”
“An error. She comes to Town on occasion but never goes out in society. I suggest you add her to your list.”
Hugh looked to the flagstones, the consequences of that suggestion not lost on him. Or the trust Lord Rainham was placing in him.
It appeared everyone was under suspicion.
“And keep this to yourself, Cadwalader, understood?”
“Yes.”
“And I want a report every two days.”
Two days?
“Anything else?”
“No.”
“Good. And your code name?”
“Er…”
“You do have one?”
“Sir Edmund calls me Number Five.”
Lord Rainham gazed into the shadows of the timber-beamed roof and heaved a breath. “And they say I lack imagination.” Then lowered his head to Hugh, hazel eyes piercing. “Stoat.”
Stoat?
What the hell sort of code name was that?
Hugh felt more than a little insulted, which must have been evident as Lord Rainham sighed in sufferance.
“Stoat. Fast. Furious. A deadly predator, even with larger prey than itself, pursues to the last. Courageous, with a keen intellect and sharp senses.”
Better but…
“Now, I must depart,” continued Rainham. “More important matters to attend to than sort out the Home Office.” And he turned on his heel.
“Er, don’t suppose you could untie me? In fact…” Hugh frowned. “Why am I still tied up?”
Lord Rainham paused and peered over one shoulder. “You will have one of my officers working with you from henceforth – no arguments. And as it was she who tied you, I’ll leave it to her discretion.”
Her?
Shoulders sagging, Hugh rammed his eyes shut to the approaching clack of boot heels.
