Page 104 of His Wicked Charm

“I suppose it could have been a mistake. Con and I are going to his office this morning. His son has carried on with the firm, hasn’t he?”

“I believe so.”

“It might be that it simply slipped Mr. Cunningham’s mind. If not, Con plans to track him down in Bath and question him.”

“But there’s so little time...”

“I know. But surely Father must have told me the location of the key. He was more straightforward than my grandfather seems to have been.”

“That’s true. Virgil wouldn’t have been cryptic with you.” Aunt Vesta’s expression grew hopeful. “Perhaps our luck has turned. That letter will be sitting in his files, gathering dust.” She looked beyond Lilah. “Ah, there you are, dear boy. Lilah’s been telling me about your adventures.”

Lilah turned to see Con standing in the doorway. He made quick work of extricating them from Aunt Vesta’s conversational clutches—Lilah wished she was as adept as he—and they walked out to the carriage waiting for them in the courtyard.

Con seemed rather more quiet than usual, even pensive. When they were settled in the carriage, she reached out to lay her hand on his arm.

“Is something wrong?”

He looked at her, startled, then smiled, whatever shadows there might have been in his eyes fleeing. “No.” He laid his hand over hers. “I was just thinking—an odd occurrence, I know.”

She made a face, but settled back, feeling reassured.

“I talked to the head gardener this morning,” Con went on.

“The gardener? Whatever for? I hope you are not about to tell me that the garden has been left to run wild.”

He laughed. “No. Unlike Sir Jasper, I have few opinions on gardens. I was talking to Harvey because I’d asked him to keep his ear to the ground for me. His sister is married to the baker, and his cousin runs the tap in the tavern, so he is privy to all the news.”

“Con Moreland. How on earth do you know all this?”

He shrugged. “I chat with the servants. I like to know things.”

“So you’ve developed a ring of spies?”

“I wouldn’t say spies. It’s more like informants. I learned it from Megan. Knowing people—and being trusted by them—is very important in reporting.”

“Investigating, too, apparently.”

“Besides, I’m universally curious.”

“So what did your ‘informants’ tell you?”

“That Niles Dearborn was in the tavern.”

“He’s back?”

“It seems so. I’m not sure what he’s doing. He was asking questions about you and me. According to Harvey, everyone was very tight-lipped.”

“What do you think he wants?”

“I don’t know. But I’ve set the gardeners and grooms on the alert for him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he comes poking around the estate.”

It occurred to Lilah that Con was carrying on her business for her. It had been most annoying when Sir Jasper did so; with Con, she didn’t mind at all. In fact, strangely, it made her feel warm inside.

When they arrived in the village, they found that the law office had indeed remained in the hands of Mr. Cunningham’s son, who bustled out to greet them, smiling broadly. His good cheer fell away, however, when Lilah asked him about the letter that had never been delivered to her.

In shocked tones, Cunningham assured them that his father would never have been derelict in his duty. To prove it, he had his clerk haul out the boxes of his father’s old files and dig through them, finally coming up with a thick stack labeled “Holcutt.”

“Yes, here it is.” He pointed to a paper atop the file. It was a list of dates with notations beside each date. “You see? ‘Aug. 17, 1891 Ltr., priv., Sir V. Holcutt, del. Aug. 17, D. Holcutt.’ He entered his delivery of a private letter to D. Holcutt—that is you, miss—on that day last year. These are his initials, showing he had successfully completed the task.” He gave them a triumphant smile. “Father was always very careful with his files. As am I.”