“Then perhaps you might take that task, sir.”
He nodded, and so she explained about the duel.
“And if one of you might take a letter to my friend Miss Ferrington. I need her to question a witness. Of course, you’re free to discover what you can about the Thorndykes of Curzon Street, too.”
Aaron Chance grinned. “Anything else, Miss Langley?”
She wanted to ask him to post a spy outside her home in Grosvenor Street, but she doubted he had a man clever enough to fool Sebastian. “No, I think that is all for now. We will visit the solicitor’s office tonight and head to Bedford tomorrow.”
“Then we shall reconvene upon your return. Hopefully, the staff at Oakmere will know who had a grievance against their master.”
Helen pasted a smile and nodded, though she glimpsed a shadow of doubt in Nicholas’ eyes. With each passing day, the chance of the magistrate catching him increased. And while she tried to remain hopeful, she doubted anyone in Bedford had information to prove his innocence.
ChapterThirteen
Hatton & Sons solicitor’s office occupied a narrow terraced house next door to a glass manufacturer on Old Compton Street.
It was five o’clock in the evening, a good hour before sunset. Not the best time to force the lock and ransack the cabinets, but during a heartfelt discussion earlier in the day, Helen advised Nicholas against committing a criminal act.
“You’re the heir to Oakmere,” Helen repeated from the confines of the hired carriage. “Mr Hatton will be obliged to show you the legal documents. Assuming Mrs Waltham spoke the truth, of course.”
She shuffled uncomfortably in the seat. Delphine’s pale blue dress and matching shoes were a fraction too small. The black wig made her head itch. But during their meeting earlier, Aaron had made a valid point. No man of the law would take her seriously if she dressed like a dandy.
“Let’s hope a constable isn’t standing guard in the hall, waiting to pounce.” He laughed, but the thought filled him with dread. One mistake and his neck was for the chopping block.
“No one will expect you to visit the solicitor. Seeing the documents will merely substantiate what we already know. But be alert. Lillian said the small things often help solve a case.” She pushed her fingers beneath the rim of the blue poke bonnet and scratched the wig. “Something said in passing might give us the clue we need.”
“What can Hatton know about a murder at Grayswood?” he said but answered his own question. “He dealt with Charles Holland. I imagine we might learn something of his intention when he made the will.”
“Precisely.” She smiled, a bright smile that made him pause for a moment and thank God he’d opened his heart. “It will help to know you are the heir, so we can question the staff at Oakmere.”
Servants obeyed their master.
Not a stranger asking personal questions.
“You really are the most remarkable woman I have ever met.” He was overcome with the need to shower her with compliments. Most women of his acquaintance blamed the world for their misfortunes. “You’ve risked everything to help me.” For as long as he lived, he’d make sure she would not regret her decision.
Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. “I’ve never been happier than I am at this moment, Nicholas. I’ve waited so long to know you better. I’ll not have the opportunity snatched from me now.”
He arched a brow. “Let’s hope you feel the same when we’re forced to share a small bed at a coaching inn tonight?”
Like the day they journeyed to Haslemere, it was safer to remain in the carriage until they reached Bedford, but their fate was already sealed.
“You know just what to say to distract a lady. For now, we must focus on the task at hand, lest we both end up in Newgate.” She shuffled to the edge of the seat and peered through the window. “Let us make haste before Mr Hatton draws the bolt and leaves for the day.”
They alighted and knocked on the blue paint-chipped door, then saw the note nailed to the frame, telling all serious callers to enter.
They found an elderly gentleman seated at his desk.
He introduced himself as Mr Hatton and beckoned them forward.
“Sorry for not greeting you at the door,” said the bespectacled fellow, “but I’m not so good on my feet these days, and less walking helps save my joints.” He was thin and feeble and looked like he’d occupied the worn leather chair for decades. Indeed, he went on to add, “There has been a Hatton behind this desk for the best part of a hundred years.”
“Your son works here too?” Helen asked politely.
“He did.” The man’s smile died. “Sadly, he accompanied a client on a treacherous voyage to India and never returned. I’ve had to cope alone ever since.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Mr Hatton.” Helen looked like she might cry. “When the young are taken far too soon, it’s hard to have faith in one’s maker.”