“It has to be Lucille Bowman,” Theo grumbled. “It’s time we confront the woman and demand to know what the hell is happening.”
“What, and be fed a pack of lies?” Eleanor said. The lady had something to hide, something that amounted to more than secretly settling Lord Wrotham’s accounts. “No, we need to trick her into meeting Miss Franklin. Of the two, the latter is more likely to confess when pressured.”
“Confess to what?” Aaron said.
Eleanor shrugged. “We don’t know.”
With a growl of frustration, Aaron released his prisoner and made for the sturdy brute. “I want to know everything the lady said when she hired you. What information does she seek?”
The craven fellow stepped back. “I was to list the places they visited. And what dealings they had with the man at the silversmith shop.”
“Mr Franklin?” Eleanor sought to clarify.
“She got all in a tizzy and said the devil had ruined her life.”
How odd.
Had Lady Lucille fallen in love with the silversmith? Was that why she nurtured a friendship with Miss Franklin? Did she enjoy rubbing shoulders with the lower classes? Or did she have reason to fear him?
“You’ll make a statement to that effect,” Theo said. “I’ll have every word in writing. She’ll not worm her way out of this.”
With some reluctance, the men for hire accompanied them to Fortune’s Den. They stood in Aaron’s imposing study and scrawled their names on a document stating why Lady Lucille had hired them.
“You’re lucky you’re walking out of here,” Aaron said, shooing the louts out the front door. “If I see your faces again, you won’t be so fortunate.” He returned to the study and dropped into his black, throne-like seat. His gaze slid to Miss Lovelace, who sat beside Eleanor. “I’m sure you have much to do before you open tonight.”
“Nothing that cannot wait.”
“You seem to make a habit of becoming embroiled in my family’s affairs. One would think you have enough problems of your own.”
The lady raised her chin. “What problems could I have besides an absent father, the threat of bankruptcy and a host of young women who demand I play matchmaker? Surely you’ve heard their excited screams when the Marquess of Rothley comes to gamble.”
Aaron snorted. “I’ve seen them peering through the window—hardly what one expects from wallflowers. Besides, Rothley would eat them alive.”
Before the lady replied, a loud knock on the front door had Sigmund trudging through the hall. Seconds later, Daventry entered the study.
“What the blazes do you want?” Aaron said.
Mr Daventry smiled. “Good afternoon. I’ve been following the leads on the books Miss Darrow gave to Pickering.” His gaze came to rest on Eleanor. “I went to the shop to update you on my progress, but Gibbs said you were out. I came to see what Aaron thought of the information.”
“It’s about time you considered my opinion,” Aaron replied.
Mr Daventry ignored the snipe. He reached into his leather satchel and dropped a book onto Aaron’s desk. “The first volume of Radcliffe’s The Italian left in Miss Darrow’s coal shed and delivered to Pickering. You’ll see the note is still hidden beneath the bookplate.”
Aaron took a paper knife from the drawer. With surprisingly gentle movements for a man with large hands, he cut the plate and retrieved the tiny note. The paper was blank.
Eleanor sighed. “So, the motive was to ensure I left the shop.”
“Undoubtedly,” Mr Daventry said. “We must ask ourselves for what purpose? Why put on such a dramatic show?” He removed another book and handed it to Aaron. “Virtue Rewards by Samuel Richardson. Perhaps you might tell me what the books have in common.”
“I did not deliver that book to Mr Pickering,” Eleanor interjected.
“No, I acquired it this morning.”
Aaron studied both books. “They have the same bookplate.”
Eleanor straightened. “Who does the book belong to?”
Daventry found the question amusing. “I confess, I had my agent break into the house to borrow it. Therefore, we cannot use the book as evidence.” His smile broadened into a grin. “D’Angelo took it from Lord Wrotham’s library. He inherited the books from his mother. Hence the image of two turtle doves. In her memory, Wrotham had more plates printed. D’Angelo found a file full of them in the desk drawer.”
The room plunged into silence.
While Eleanor tried to imagine Lord Wrotham attacking her in the yard, Aaron gritted his teeth and cried, “That cowardly fop used Miss Darrow because of her connections to this family.”
“That’s not the motive,” Theo said. “How can it be? Until our encounter at the Olympic, Wrotham knew nothing about my relationship with Miss Darrow.”
“This case has us going around in circles.” Eleanor knew there was but one way to solve the mystery. “We need more information. We should begin by using what we have against Lady Lucille and Miss Franklin.”
Everyone remained quiet while considering the point.
“I agree,” Mr Daventry eventually said. “We trick them into meeting and apply pressure to get answers.”
Eleanor had an idea. “I have a letter Miss Franklin sent thanking me for giving her sewing lessons. I could copy the handwriting and write to Lady Lucille.”
“You have a book from Miss Franklin’s cousin,” Theo added. “Why not say you were given a message as well? Use the term friend instead of giving a name. If the plan works, they’ll both believe they have been summoned by the other.”
It could work.
Providing Eleanor perfected her acting skills.
