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She faced him. “I saw Andrew there. And he saw me.”

Jasper went to stone. Unblinking. Not breathing. And then, he turned away from her. He set his hands on his hips, his head bowed.

“I knew this would be a mistake.” The disappointment in his voice was worse than a shout would have been.

“It might not be that serious a problem,” Leo said. “I was there with a man. Andrew might only think I was out to dine.”

Jasper faced her again, no longer appearing angry, only exhausted. “Andrew will contact you, Leo. He’ll want to know what you were doing there with an undercover detective. Men like him know a copper when they see one. That’s what Palmer is, or at least it’s what he used to be.”

Leo shivered at the idea of Andrew finding her, the way his hired man had the other evening when he’d stopped her in the street. It disturbed her that he should have the power to make her feel so unsettled and unsafe.

Jasper shook his head and abruptly left the kitchen.

She followed on his heels. “Where are you going?”

He arrived at the coat stand near the front door before answering, “To the Golden Harp.”

Leo reached for his arm before he could take down his coat. “Are you mad? What if other Carters are there?”

Jasper peeled his arm free and grabbed his coat. “I will be fine. I need to speak to Andrew.”

“And tell him what, exactly?”

“The truth. Cillian’s mistress is missing and that you’ve been working with a private detective to find her.” Jasper tugged on his coat.

“You don’t have to go there. I can tell him that myself when he contacts me.”

Jasper tore his bowler from the stand hook and practically shouted, “I do not want him anywhere near you, Leo.”

She straightened her spine and balled her hands into fists, startled by his flaying tone. As if he’d belatedly heard it himself, he closed his eyes. “If I talk to him first, he won’t need to speak to you. That is how I prefer it. Goodnight.”

He put on his hat as he opened the front door and then was gone.

When the Golden Harp came into view, Jasper was still steaming hot. He’d walked along the Embankment to Blackfriars Bridge before hailing a cab to take him the rest of the way. He’d needed to move, to burn off his frustration, but it had not worked as he’d hoped.

Dread pooled in his stomach as he eyed the pub from the pavement. He couldn’t go in there, blazing hot. Entering any precarious situation without being sound of mind could spell disaster. So, he took several breaths and rolled his shoulders, attempting to loosen the tension stored there. He was angry, yes, but in finally setting eyes on Andrew Carter’s pub, he realized his anger didn’t rest solely with Leo and her outing to the Golden Harp with the ex-copper, Silas Palmer.

While he loathed the vision of her dining out with Palmer—who’d only ever ridiculed Jasper for his connection to a higher-up at Scotland Yard, in turn setting him apart from the other men in their division—it wasn’t that, or even that Leo had been seen by Andrew, that made him feel like he’d swallowed glowing hot coals. Jasper was furious with Andrew and the fact that there was nothing he could do to disentangle himself from the sodding East Rips.

Once his heartbeat slowed, Jasper went inside the busy pub. It wasn’t yet ten o’clock, so the night was young for many here. He scanned the crowd, searching for any face that tugged at his memory. None did.

The barkeep eyed him as he approached, and hitched his chin, indicating he’d take his order.

“I’m looking for Andrew,” Jasper said.

The barkeep’s expression didn’t flinch. “Might be a few men here by that name. I can get you a drink while you ask around.”

“The owner. I know he was here earlier,” Jasper said, fully aware that the man was stalling. “Tell him James is here. He’ll want to see me.”

The patrons on either side of him weren’t being subtle in their interest. Stating his name or connecting himself in any way to Scotland Yard would have been a blunder. James was a common enough name, though.

The barkeep only scowled another few seconds before signaling to a barmaid to go into the back. In the minute that followed, Jasper considered how many ways this visit could go wrong. That it might have been a hasty move to come here. But the alternative of waiting for Andrew to approach Leo was untenable.

The barmaid reappeared through the swinging door, and with her was the orange-hatted man Andrew had sent to follow Jasper for some time last summer. Muncie was his name.

The man’s nostrils flared in recognition, and then, though he looked highly displeased, he jerked his chin. An invitation to join him. Jasper went around the bar. Muncie led him into a kitchen and storage area, and from what Jasper saw before being greeted with Muncie’s snub-nosed revolver, it was busy, clean, and orderly.

Jasper opened the panels of his coat, and Muncie took the holstered Webley. He next crouched to pat down Jasper’s ankles, then felt around his back, to be sure the one weapon was all he’d had. Satisfied, Muncie swung his pistol toward another open doorway. “Down there.”