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“To be less recognizable as Sebastian Lawlor,” Jasper concurred. “The maid said she overheard him telling a cabbie to bring him to Paddington Station. Why go there if he planned to stay in London?”
“To meet someone?” Leo suggested. “Henry Gray, perhaps.”
He and the false doctor might have had plans to meet after Augusta’s body was removed and brought to Tate’s. There was no way to truly know, at least not that Leo could figure.
“He died yesterday,” Connor said after a moment of quiet. It was best, Leo knew, to return to the facts they did have. “By the current phase of rigor and the lack of digestion of his last meal, I’d estimate he was killed between four and seven o’clock, the latter of which was when constables were summoned to an alley off Creed Lane. The victim’s last meal was within an hour or two of his death. Standard pub fare. Ale, a steak and kidney pie, and carrots.”
That meant Sebastian had spent a full day in London after fleeing the Lawlor home on Hill Street. Why linger if he had the money?
“I’ll have my constables show Lawlor’s sketch around at pubs near Creed Lane,” Jasper said. “It’s possible someone will remember him and if he was with anyone. I have a sketch being done of Henry Gray. We can show them both.”
It was a good start, although Leo wished there had been more on the body, like a tattoo, or something among his belongings that would have helped them narrow down their search for his identity.
“What of Mrs. Lawlor?” Leo asked as she walked with Jasper toward the lobby door. Augusta was already devastated; if her heart wasn’t yet completely broken, learning her husband was dead would finish the job.
“I’ll inform her.” Jasper took the watch fob from his waistcoat pocket and checked the hour. “I have some time before luncheon.”
She looked askance at him. “Since when do you take time out of the day for luncheon?”
“Since Superintendent Monroe invited me this morning to join him at one.” He didn’t sound at all pleased.
“Has he ever invited you to luncheon before?” she asked as they crossed into the lobby.
“No,” he answered once he’d pulled back. “And to be honest, I don’t look forward to it. I don’t have the time to spare. However, since it is the superintendent…” He didn’t need to finish his thought. Leo knew well enough he could not have refused his superior.
A hush settled between them. Instinctively, she knew they’d both turned to thoughts about the night before. She hadn’t liked the way they’d parted. She’d been angry, and he’d been pigheaded. Even so, all night, Leo regretted refusing to dine with him.
Jasper spun his bowler slowly in his hands. “There is something I want to say.”
Apprehension churned her stomach. “That sounds ominous.”
“Andrew has asked me to find someone. A nephew.”
The information rendered her speechless, especially as he’d been so unyielding before about shutting her out.
“I still don’t want you near it, so that is all I am going to share,” Jasper said. “For now, at least. Unless I can see some way you might be able to assist without drawing Andrew’s attention or putting you directly in danger.”
It wasn’t exactly enough to fully appease her, but it was more of a concession than she’d expected.
Jasper reached for her waist. “I don’t want us to quarrel.”
It would have been petty of her to pull away, and she didn’t want to do that anyhow. So, she allowed him to bring her closer.
“Neither do I,” she admitted.
A flicker of a grin touched his mouth, but instead of leaning forward and kissing her, he only bussed his lips against her cheek. As he did, he whispered, “Tell me I will see you tonight. Come to my home for dinner.”
The unruly longing that had afflicted her for a little while now flared again. She would not refuse him this time.
“Seven o’clock?” she asked.
With a grin of satisfaction, Jasper stepped away. “Now that is a meal I can look forward to.”
Chapter Nine
Jasper approached the arched entrance to Verrey’s with curious trepidation. Although he hadn’t dined at the posh French restaurant before, its reputation and exorbitant prices weren’t the reasons he hesitated on the pavement outside. His qualms were due to the person who was waiting for him inside.
That morning, after returning from Spitalfields—and before he’d been summoned to the Spring Street Morgue to view the body of Sebastian Lawlor—he’d found two letters waiting on his desk at Scotland Yard. One, a large envelope, had contained a heavy card embossed with the details of the Home Secretary’s dinner party. He was being invited, just as Oliver had promised. He’d tossed it aside, preferring not to think about the dinner just yet. The second letter had been a brief note from Superintendent Clive Monroe, asking Jasper to meet him at Verrey’s for luncheon at one o’clock.