Page 57 of A Murder in Bloomsbury

“Lord Peregrine. You met him at the museum. He and the editor are friends. He’ll know where to find him. I was on my way to his residence.”

I rose to my feet. “Very well. My carriage is outside.”

“Your carriage?” She stared at me in dismay. “The one bearing the Everthorne crest?”

“Yes.”

“The entire neighborhood will know.”

“Unfortunately. In my defense, I was somewhat distracted by visions of finding you beneath a collapsed roof.”

Color rose swiftly into her cheeks. “Very well,” she muttered.

Relief moved through me again. Quieter this time, but no less complete.

“You are rather forceful when you seek to get your way,” she said.

“One does what one must.”

She pinned me with a hard stare. “Once we find the editor, you are not to bully him. If you do, I shall leave you standing in the street and make my own way home.”

“I make no promises.”

“Thorne,” she cautioned.

“Fine. I shall endeavor not to bully him.”

“That is not the same thing.”

“It is the best offer currently available.”

She sighed. “Let us go before the entire square decides we are conducting a torrid affair.”

Without another word, I opened the drawing room door.

Mrs. Selwyn and Linnet stood directly outside it. Neither attempted innocence.

“Well. That sounded productive,” Lark’s cousin said adjusting her cuffs.

Lark pointed accusingly at her. “You were listening.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“And interpreting for Linnet.”

“Only because the two of you made it impossible not to,” Mrs. Selwyn replied.

Linnet signed something rapidly while grinning like a loon.

Lark flushed scarlet.

“What did she say?” I asked.

“Never mind,” Lark said at once, sweeping down the hall.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Lady Linnet,” I said, looking directly at her.

Linnet’s hands moved again.