“You’re in a surly mood tonight, Jasper,” Constance remarked, her lips pouting. “The article on her has upset you.”
“My bad mood has nothing to do with her or that bloody article.”
It wasn’t wholly true. The anonymous profile bothered him; it would only draw attention to Leo and to the unsolved murders of her family again. But his surly mood, as Constance had called it, also stemmed from having found Leo with Andrew Carter in his office earlier that day. She shouldn’t have been anywhere near him, asking pointed questions. At least she’d had the foresight not to give him her name.
“I’m investigating a young woman’s murder,” Jasper clarified. “Forgive me if I’m not in the best humor.”
“I’ve been thinking,” Oliver said promptly, attempting to pierce the tension building between Jasper and Constance. “Now that your father is gone—God rest his soul—I don’t see why you must continue as if he is still here. He was the one who cared for Miss Spencer all these years, wasn’t he?”
Jasper suspected where the viscount was headed with his question and clenched his jaw, remaining silent.
“You are not family to her. I don’t see why you should feel any sort of responsibility toward her.” He finished his thought with a wave of his fingers.
The suggestion that Jasper should cast Leo off without thought or care slammed into him. He sat back in his chair. “I assure you I don’t feel responsible for her at all.”
It wasn’tresponsibilitythat he felt toward Leo. Jasper wasn’t entirely sure what he felt, but he knew without question that it would never be indifference.
“Good. You shouldn’t,” Oliver replied. “Treat her as you would any witness to a crime and be done with her.” He raised a hand to signal the waiter. “Another bottle of wine.”
Jasper threw his napkin on the table, no longer able to sit still. “None for me. In fact, I think I’ll take my leave for the evening. You’re right—I’m not good company at the moment.”
It was rude to leave before dinner ended, but he didn’t think he could endure any more speculative conversation. Especially if it had to do with Leonora Spencer. He’d only lose his temper and say things he regretted later.
“You are leaving?” Constance’s mouth parted in obvious dismay. “We haven’t been served the main course yet.”
“You stay,” Jasper said as he stood. “Oliver will take you home, I’m sure.”
“Of course,” the viscount replied, though he, too, appeared taken aback by Jasper’s unceremonious departure.
Constance twisted away from him, refusing to meet his eyes as he bid them a good evening. He didn’t blame her. She had every right to be peeved. Yet, as he left Rouget’s, he found he didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty. All he felt was relief.
Chapter Nine
Leo had counted on the day not ending without a visit and a verbal thrashing from Jasper. However, as the clock at the front of the house downstairs chimed the ten o’clock hour, she couldn’t deny her surprise.
He hadn’t come.
Not to the morgue after she’d left the detective department, nor to the house on Duke Street that evening. He was busy, to be sure. And sheshouldhave been relieved to have been spared one of his infuriatingly high-handed rebukes. But the truth was, she would have gritted her teeth and stomached it if it meant being able to hear what Jasper had learned from Mr. Wilkes at the Polytechnic and from Mr. Carter too.
Warm under the blanket on her bed, Leo still felt uneasy about her encounter with Gabriela’s husband earlier that day. She’d never met one of the infamous Carters in person, though she could recall how Gregory Reid had once likened the East Rips family to cockroaches.There is never just one, he’d said with a roll of his eyes. The Carter family tree ran broad and deep, with tangled roots throughout London.
Andrew, the youngest brother of the gang’s current leader, Sean, was undoubtedly a dangerous man. And yet, there had also been something slightly mesmerizing about him. Leo thought she might understand what had attracted Gabriela to him. Andrew Carter radiated power and confidence, and paired with his good looks, she imagined it could be an undeniable trifecta. Leo had been both repulsed and compelled by the man in the few minutes before Jasper had entered his office and summarily tossed her out.
She’d been so out of sorts from her encounter with him that she’d been halfway back to the morgue when she realized she’d entirely forgotten to bring the description of the John Doe to Elias Murray at thePolice Gazetteoffice. Strangely uninterested in returning to the Yard, she’d flagged a messenger boy and given him a penny to deliver it for her.
She couldn’t sleep, so she picked up one of the books on her bedside table, a volume of travel memoirs penned by the wife of an archaeologist. The trouble was, Leo was vastly more interested in what the husband might have been excavating from the ancient layers of earth than the author’s insipid descriptions of the Egyptian landscape and architecture.
A rapping on a door downstairs cut through the quiet house. Lowering the book, she slid out of bed and into her nightrobe and slippers. Halfway down the stairs, another round of knocking came, sounding more impatient this time. The visitor was at the back door, not the front. Immediately, she knew who it was. She groaned, wishing she hadn’t put her hair up in curling wrappers, which made her appear all of twelve years old instead of twenty-five.
She hurried into the kitchen before another rapping on the door woke her aunt. Flora and Claude had turned in some time ago, but by routine, Leo left a paraffin lamp lit downstairs in the kitchen. Claude never rested easily and by midnight, he’d comedownstairs for some warm milk and a biscuit before returning to bed.
Leo unlatched the chain, turned the bolt on the lock, and peeled the back door open a half inch. Her stomach somehow managed to lift and dive at the same time.
“Oh, so now you decide to show up,” she said as she pulled the door open all the way. Jasper stood on the back step, his hands in his pockets, his frock coat unbuttoned.
He pressed down one brow, taking in the state of her. “Did I neglect an appointment we had tonight?”
Leo gestured for him to come inside. He carried with him a light scent of perfume and smoking tobacco. Paired with the black hat in his hand, the fine black, worsted wool suit he wore, and the silk tie speared with a silver stick pin in the center, it was obvious he’d been out that evening with either Constance Hayes or Lord Hayes, or both. She bit her tongue against asking; it wasn’t her business.
