Sophie forced a smile, stood, and left the office. Her reputation, as far as her parents knew, was still intact. Whether that was a good thing, she couldn’t say. If only she could escape the chill on her skin.
Mr. Bertram.
Who would have thought?
* * *
Zach tried to keep the evidence that exonerated him under wraps, but gossip was beginning to reach his ears. Meanwhile, the constables had arrested Thelonius Bertram, a servant on the Brighton Estate. He was supposedly the one who had been sending Sophie those notes, and he was now the prime suspect in Nanette’s murder. Mr. Tate said Bertram was maintaining his innocence and denied ever writing notes to Sophie.
Zach didn’t honestly know what to believe. Nanette had been a true pain in his arse, but he would never have wished death upon her. That said, it was nice not to have her around anymore causing turmoil.
May Day fast approached, and even though he desperately needed the extra time to make up for the days the theatre had been shut down, he was closing so they could all enjoy the festival. He hoped he could escort Sophie. The earl would probably not allow it, but he would ask anyway.
He looked around his office, which had been cleaned, the rug replaced—no evidence that a murder had taken place there. He was glad to have his theatre back, but he had a strange feeling that Nanette’s killer was still out there. The young man Bertram hardly seemed the obsessive murdering type. And Zach wasn’t sure why, but sometimes he felt like invisible eyes were watching him, burning holes in his skin—invisible bodies lurking around every corner, like shadows in the darkness.
Probably just his imagination.
* * *
The next day, Zach sat in the earl’s lush office, waiting for Brighton to receive him. Graves had shown him in and told him the master would be in shortly.
Zach wiped his sweaty palm on his trousers. Why so nervous? He only wanted to escort Sophie to the May Day festival on the morrow. Of course, Brighton had refused him once…
The door opened, and Brighton strode in, his brow furrowed. Zach stood.
“Sit down, Newland,” Brighton said, taking his place behind the mammoth desk.
Zach dropped his bottom back into the leather chair and waited for the earl to speak.
Brighton shuffled some papers on his desk, clearing his throat. His lips were pursed in a thin line. This didn’t look good.
“I suppose you know why I’ve called you here,” Brighton finally said.
Called him here? He’d come of his own accord. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, my lord.”
“Nonsense. I asked Graves to send word to you yesterday. That is why you’re here, is it not?”
“I beg pardon, but I received no message from Graves. I’ve been keeping long hours at the theatre to make up for the days we lost, so it’s possible I missed it in my post.”
“What brings you here, then?”
“I’m here to ask permission to escort Lady Sophie to the May Day festival.”
Brighton pounded his fist on the desk, shaking the giant structure. A granite paperweight fell to the floor perilously close to Zach’s toes. “You sit there and tell me you have no idea why I wished to see you? And you have the nerve to ask to escort my stepdaughter to a festival when I told you in no uncertain terms you could not court her?”
Zach’s heart quickened. “That is exactly what I’m saying, my lord.”
Brighton shook his head. “The truth is, Newland, my wife spoke to me about your possible courtship of Sophie. It seems Sophie is quite fond of you and wanted the courtship. I was ready to allow it, until…”
“Until what?” Zach stomach plummeted. This could only be heading in one direction.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out that you compromised my stepdaugh
ter, Newland?”
Zach let out a cough. “No, my lord. I didn’t think you wouldn’t find out. But please understand that—”
“Be silent!” The earl’s fist came down on the desk again. “I shall do the talking here.”