“The sooner this business is all sorted, the better,” he said crisply.
Mr. Seeker nodded intently; large eyes fixed on William. It felt, irrationally, as if he were watching William and judging him. Seeing straight through his bustle and empty words.
Weighing him up in the balance and finding him wanting.
“I shall work as fast as I can,” he answered serenely, after what seemed to William to be an interminable pause. “But I can give no deadline, you see. It’s best to take the process step by step. I give no guarantees, and I promise only to work as hard as I can, to get you the exact answers you seek. We offer honesty, you see.”
“Good, that’s… that’s good. Honesty is what I want.”
There was a brief pause after that.
William knew, logically, that staying quiet and continuing to look at one’s conversation partner was the best way to get them to continue speaking, to reveal more information than they’d planned.
He knew it logically, but that didn’t stop him from babbling on.
“I don’t intend to bother the woman, of course. I only want to return the locket, and perhaps exchange names… if she’s amenable to that, of course. Not that she wouldnotbe amenable, I’m not trying to do…”
He finally cut himself off, biting the tip of his tongue to halt the flow of chatter.
“Indeed, your Grace,” Mr. Seeker answered politely. “If that is all, I shall begin my enquiries, and contact you as soon as there is some information to be gleaned. Will that suit? You can of course send me a note or a message to ask how the investigation proceeds, if you wish.”
“Yes, thank you.”
Mr. Seeker rose gracefully, bowing, and slipped out of the study with no more noise than a cat.
William sagged back against his seat, suddenly drained. At least he’d done something. He couldn’t possibly have gone on with that wretched locket in his desk drawer, taunting him and luring him in in the way an inanimate object shouldnothave been able to do.
He could still see the locket resting around the mystery woman’s slim white throat. No doubt when he finally met her again – if he ever did, since she’d seemed to drop off the face of the earth – she would think him an odd man, without anything else to occupy himself than chasing down a stranger.
Sighing, William hauled himself to his feet, pulling the bell in the corner. The butler appeared after only a minute or two.
“How may I help, your Grace?” he asked smoothly.
“Fetch my coat and boots, please. Oh, and get my horse ready,” William answered, dashing off a quick note. “And have this sent around to this address as soon as possible. I am going out.”
***
William had been at White’s only for a few moments before Timothy arrived, but that was enough time to get a glass of brandy into his hand.
“Got your note,” Timothy answered, slipping into the seat beside his friend with a smile. “Anything to enjoy a break from my new novel. My fingers are cramping from writing too much.”
“How awful for you. I hope you don’t mind me summoning you out.”
“Not at all. You said something garbled about a private detective, in your note?”
William sighed. “Yes. Don’t tell anyone, please, but I’ve hired a detective to find that woman. I must return the locket.”
“I’m glad you’re doing something. Who knows, perhaps she’ll turn out to be the love of your life.”
William scoffed. “Somehow, I don’t think any of this could be construed asromantic. I daresay she won’t want to ever see me again, and I don’t blame her. Besides, I shouldn’t waste my time on wild-goose chases. I need a wife.”
“Yes, you all do. Katherine worries about you, you know.”
“I know, I know,” William drank down the brandy faster than he should have done. It burned his throat, but there was something to relish in the burn. “Henry’s off every day, engrossed in his new venture, and I haven’t seen Alex in three days, can you believe it?”
Timothy frowned. “Alexander seems… well, he’s not doing well, is he?”
“No, he’s not. And whenever I try to talk to him about it, he laughs at me and calls me a scolding old fool. Mother is oblivious to it all and continues to push various eligible women towards me. I told her I didn’t want a debutante – I want a woman my own age – and she took that to mean that I’m only interested in much older women, preferably rich widows. On top of that, I am featured in just about every gossip column ever written, it seems, with all of London speculating on when I’ll marry and whom I’ll marry. It’s endless.”
