“I apparently annoy my mother with my restless malingering.”
Bill coughed a laugh. “She sent you packing.”
“She did.”
“I can understand her. You have done enough pacing since coming in here to make me want to toss you out on your ear. What’s her name?”
Robert crossed his arms. “You think it’s a woman?”
“I know it is. But I know it’s not Lydia Rowbotham, because she barely makes you twitch a whisker. And you stopped pacing about Rose Timmons weeks ago, when the fact that your brother had won her finally pierced that thick skull of yours. I know it’s not business”—he gestured at a spray of papers in front of him—“because you don’t pace, you dig in and get it done, like we have with these arrangements.”
Robert crossed to the desk and picked up one of the documents. “You are still satisfied with this? And Nora as well?”
“I am and so is she. We discussed it again last night. She trusts you to take care of her and the girls in addition to the provisions in my will.” He plucked the paper from Robert’s hands. “These changes will just make it easier on all of us in the meantime, since I don’t plan to leave this mortal coil anytime soon. And will ensure everything is in your hands while we’re gone.” Bill began to stack the papers and drop them into a box.
“So when do you leave?”
Bill looked up. “The ship departs for Greece in six days. The girls are thrilled.”
“How long since Nora has seen her parents?”
“Twelve years.”
“So Prudence has never met them?”
Bill shook his head and stood up. “No. And Hannah was only six and barely remembers their visit. So what’s her name?”
Robert grinned. “I haven’t finished talking about business and Greece.”
Bill returned the smile and leaned a hip against the side of his desk. “I have. I know you too well, my friend. I have seen you distract some of the best players at the table, but if I’m leaving my empire in your hands, I want to know what is distracting you.”
“It’s not enough that my mother is unwell?”
“Not if she’s aware enough to ask you to leave the house. You must have met this woman recently.”
“Yes and no.”
“Do not evade.”
“I met her Saturday night. But I’ve been around her for weeks. She’s been acting as Lady Lydia’s chaperone.”
Bill stood straight, his eyes widening. “This is the woman you described as ‘a brown mouse of a spinster not even a cat would notice’?”
Robert winced. “I was wrong.”
Bill laughed, a hardy sound that bounced off the walls. “And exactly how did the error of your ways come to light?”
Robert detailed his encounter with Lady Eloise Surrey at the modiste’s shop and her visit to Ashton House. Bill listened, arms crossed, his face growing ever more somber as Robert laid out the information about Timothy.
“And he was last seen here, in this establishment?”
Robert wandered toward the window, looking down at the frenetic activity on the floor. “Yes. They were supposed to meet at the baccarat table.”
“You talked to Gilley?”
Robert’s assistant on the floor was a big man, at least six-five and twenty-two stone, and knew as much about the activity in the room as Robert did. “I asked him first. He remembered the two friends but not Timothy. And none of the lingerers on the women’s side match his description.”
“So you know what’s most likely to have happened?”
