“When I told him you had taken over the lease on the property, he wanted me to tell you what he’d observed while there. You see, he believed there were hidden rooms somewhere, as men came and went, but not through the front door, and he could never find the secret door,” Croft explained.
“I’m grateful to him for telling you, Croft, and please thank him for me. I would also be grateful if he would see his way to informing you of anything else he remembers.”
“Of course, Miss Tilly.” He bowed and returned to his dusting, and she headed for her room.
There was no doubt that something sinister had gone on beneath her club. But now, with Croft’s information, she knew that more women than just Fern had possibly gone missing. She would need to pass his information onto Lord Talbot, and as she was seeing him shortly, she would have the chance to do so.
Would they tell the others today what they found? It made her nervous, but Lord Talbot was right—they were intelligent people, plus clairvoyants, and they may be able to help them unravel what had taken place in that room.
Tilly’s bedchamber was on the second floor and spacious.It had a sitting area and then her bedroom. Decorated in light colors, and unlike the rest of the house, there wasn’t any clutter. Tilly liked order.
She quickly collected her outer clothing and headed back down the stairs to find Verity waiting for her with a small package in her hands. Her maid approved of the Nightingale family, and Tilly’s association with them. She also liked Bud, the family’s housekeeper.
“Croft said you’d like some almond biscuits.” Her maid handed them to her.
“Excellent. Let us be off, then, as we have no wish to be late for the meeting.”
Though she had much to share with him, Tilly was nervous about seeing Ambrose again after what they had shared. Yes, they’d seen each other from a distance, but had not conversed. Today would be different.
She rallied by herself. “You cower to no man.” Stepping outside, Tilly inhaled deeply. “Especially not an arrogant, pompous one.”
CHAPTER 9
For all that they made him uncomfortable, Ambrose enjoyed visiting the Nightingale household. It was a place of warmth and happiness, and those who lived here had become his friends. Not that his household was not full of happiness. His sisters were there—well, two of them were—and they always made him laugh or smile, even when they were lecturing him, which was often.
His mother was awkward and humorless most of the time, but his father was a good man, and Ambrose enjoyed his company.
Was he stuffy? The thought had been plaguing Ambrose lately. Was he sticking to rules that needed changing? Mungo and Ram certainly thought so, if the conversation they’d just had was any indication.
Ambrose had never had cause to question what he was and had always been. Lately that was happening constantly.
“You’re frowning, Rosie. Care to tell me why?”
“Hello, Pixie,” he said when his youngest sister walked up to him into the large parlor they were about to hold their monthly meeting in.
Violet had married Charles and was now under the wing of the Nightingale family, for which he was eternally grateful. She was also the sister who had suffered the deepest loss.
Engaged at a young age, her fiancé had died and left her broken-hearted, until Charles Thomas stepped into her life. She was now happy, and he’d always be grateful to his brother-in-law for that.
Small, with soft brown eyes and hair, his little sister wasn’t his favorite, because that would be wrong, but he had spent a lot of time with her when she was grieving, which had drawn them closer.
“I’m not allowed to frown now?”
“Of course you are, but I’d like to know why,” she said with a cheeky smile.
“God’s blood, I have a hunger,” the next man to enter the room declared.
Behind him came another. The pair were Leo and Alex, the eldest Nightingale siblings. Leo was a viscount, and Alex, from what Ambrose could gather, was put on this earth to annoy people—namely his siblings.
It had been Alex who had made the declaration about food, which was also something he did often.
“It’s coming. You’ll mind your bloody manners and wait for it,” Mungo said, stomping into the room with a laden tray of food. “I’ve a mind to make you fetch the rest, you ungrateful fool.”
“Now, Mungo, you know you love me.” After making that pronouncement, Alex then pounced on the tray.
“Right, then,” Bramstone said, entering with a large ledger, pen, and ink. “We shall give it a few more minutes before we begin to see if the others arrive. Of course, not everyone will be here all the time, as we’ve already established.”
Ambrose had tried to return the money he’d been givenfrom the Pavlov fortune, but it had been handed right back. He’d then told Bram he didn’t need to be involved in the workings of what was done with it. Again, that was ignored and his presence demanded.
