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Leo tapped the side of her glass with her fingertips, lost in thought. “Perhaps Chief Inspector Coughlan is due to retire soon, and he is considering a promotion for you?”

“I haven’t heard anything. And I’m too busy with my own job to think about Coughlan’s.” Before more about the lunch could be said, he tapped the file he’d left on the desk. “This will interest you.”

Leo ceased swiveling. She set her glass down and picked up the file. As she read swiftly through the death certificate and police report, Jasper felt slightly guilty for distracting her, but he would have felt worse had he told her the truth about the strange luncheon with Monroe and his children.

Leo stood up as she read and shifted to sit on the edge of the desk. “Henry Gray was Victoria Herrington’s doctor. This is another one of Sebastian Lawlor’s victims. Or as he called himself that time, Rupert Herrington.” She lowered the file and looked up at him. “How did you find her?”

Damn. He hadn’t thought of this potential muddle. Finishing his whisky, he answered, “Miss Hayes.”

Leo blinked, then dropped her eyes to the file again. “Oh?”

It was one word, and yet he knew she was surprised, unpleasantly so.

“I boxed at Fortune’s last evening and spoke to Oliver about the case. He suggested Constance might know of another such situation, given her standing in society and her job at the Times.”

Leo nodded, still looking at the police report and not at him. “That was a good idea.”

He joined her at the desk. “She sent a note to the Yard with what she could recall about Victoria Herrington.”

Leo seemed to gather herself before looking up at him again. “That’s excellent. Really. And as cavalier as Inspector Tomlin seems to have been in investigating the claim, at least he took down the maid’s name and place of residence so you can pay her a call.”

Tomlin had noted that the maid, a Miss Isabelle Chandler, had been hysterical and overwrought, and when Rupert Herrington could not be tracked down to question, there was no choice but to close the case as groundless.

“When will you go?” Leo asked.

“Tomorrow.” Jasper came to stand in front of her at the desk. “You’ve memorized that report by now.”

She closed the manila file and set it aside, on the blotter. “Yes, I have.”

His legs brushed against her knees, and Jasper could not stop his attention from wandering toward her lap, and the belted waist of her skirt.

“You know, I remember a time when I would have to peel police files from your hands.” He reached for her waist. “Now, here I am giving them to you.”

Leo covered his hands with hers, then skated her palms up his forearms. “I much prefer this way.”

“As do I.”

Although, he no longer wanted to talk about the case. He only wanted to kiss her. Touch her. His palms grazed her hips and along the sides of her legs, eliciting a soft gasp from her. Unable to tolerate another moment without her mouth against his, Jasper kissed her. Leo welcomed him, her hands reaching to his shoulders. Gently, she tugged him closer. One of his thighs slipped between her knees, and when her calf curled around the back of his leg, he thought he might go blind with desire.

A pert knock on the study door burst through the bubble that had seemed to form around them. Mrs. Zhao entered, only to stop in her tracks when she saw Jasper and Leo, and their intimate position at the desk.

“Mrs. Zhao,” Jasper muttered as embarrassment flooded in. He released Leo and stepped far away from the desk, while she hastily stood and smoothed her skirt.

The housekeeper unsuccessfully smothered her amusement. “Dinner is served,” she said, twittering laughter as she departed.

Jasper, his body still coiled with longing, gestured for Leo to go ahead of him. Color tinted her usually pale skin as she fell into step behind the housekeeper. Thankfully, Mrs. Zhao had set Leo’s place at the dinner table to his immediate left, rather than at the far, opposite end.

“Won’t you join us?” Leo asked her.

“Thank you, Miss Leo, but I have already eaten my supper.” Crossing behind Leo’s chair, the housekeeper winked at Jasper. He nearly groaned with embarrassment.

She left them to serve themselves, and after an awkward beat, Leo reached for the ladle in the soup tureen.

“I need to tell you something,” she said once Jasper had filled his bowl with Mrs. Zhao’s mulligatawny soup. He returned the ladle to the tureen and narrowed his eyes on her.

“Why do you sound as if you’re about to confess something I’m likely to be angry about?”

“It’s nothing I’ve done,” she replied. “It is what you may have been seen doing.”