Constance grunted in frustration, a sound which somehow managed to be graceful.
“What has happened?” Leo asked.
“As you are not a detective, Miss Spencer,” the other woman snapped, “I fail to see how you can help.”
Leo stiffened.
“Constance,” Lord Hayes said, his tone commanding. She crossed her arms and looked away but didn’t say anything more.
“Miss Spencer,” the viscount began in a conciliatory manner. “I am aware that you’ve worked with Jasper in the past on some inquiries…even though it was surely in an informal capacity,” he tacked on, with a guarded look toward the listening desk constable. “I’m not sure if you can assist, but I don’t see the harm in telling you that yesterday, my uncle, Constance’s father, arrived at my home in Kensington.”
“I thought Mr. Hayes was traveling to Hampshire,” Leo said.
Constance peered at her. “How did you know that?”
“That may take too long to explain,” she answered, not wanting to divert from what Lord Hayes was saying.
“He was stopping over on his way to Beechwood,” the viscount continued. “The strange thing was that Stanley was unnerved. So was George.”
“My brother,” Constance said, then added more sharply, “Or perhaps you already knew that too.”
“Yes, in fact, I did,” Leo replied, growing impatient with her attitude. “Unnerved how?” she asked, turning back to Lord Hayes.
“Stanley wouldn’t say much, just that he was tired with Town and wanted to retreat to the country. But there was something more he wasn’t telling me. I could sense it.” The viscount exhaled slowly. “Anyhow, it was around eleven o’clock this morning when Stanley came to me, asking if I’d seen George. I had not, not since the evening before. Neither of us had. We searched the house and the grounds. We scoured Holland Park near my home and even went round to my neighbors’ homes to see if they had seen him. No one had.”
Alarm shuttled up Leo’s back to her scalp. “Are you saying George is missing?”
“That is exactly what he is saying,” Constance replied, her voice quavering with dread. “My brother is gone.”
Chapter Fifteen
As he stepped off the train onto the platform at Twickenham Junction just past nine o’clock, Jasper breathed in the cool, sweet scents of clipped grass and fresh air. Even the clouds of smoke billowing from the train’s coal-burning engine could not subdue them. It had been years since he’d left London. Truly left it, that was. Oliver Hayes’s home in Kensington, which Jasper had viewed as a kind of country retreat from the city, did not have this same tranquil stillness. His ears had become so accustomed to the turbulent cacophony of city life that its absence, now replaced by the melodic chirp of crickets, was a little overwhelming.
The late summer twilight had slipped away while he and Lewis rode the train southwest from Charing Cross Station. The rickety ride had lasted a good two hours, with stops made at every rail station along the way. The uncomfortable wooden bench, its cushion worn into a thin, lumpy state, had probably bruised Jasper’s backside.
“Detective Inspector Reid?” A uniformed police constable was waiting near the Twickenham station doors. By the gas jets of the station lamps, he appeared young. Probably no morethan twenty or twenty-one years of age. He stepped forward, wearing an open, somewhat eager grin to greet the Scotland Yard detectives.
“That’s correct,” Jasper said, then introduced Lewis as his detective sergeant.
“PC Landry, sir. Sergeant Tinsdale sent me to escort you to the orphanage at Wellesley House. He and Matron Westover are waiting for you there.”
Jasper and Lewis followed the young police constable to a wagon in front of the station. The dirt road was dark and empty, with only a few spots of light emanating from nearby structures.
“Is there an inn or lodging house that might be able to give us rooms for the night?” Jasper asked. “My sergeant and I will likely be staying here until morning.”
“Mrs. Barnston usually has rooms at her place,” Landry replied. “She runs an inn and tavern. I’ll arrange for it after I take you to the orphanage.”
With any luck, the tavern would also set aside supper for them. Jasper’s gnawing hunger had grown as they’d traveled toward Twickenham, and it had likely been the reason why, after enduring Lewis’s smirking glimpses for as long as he could stand them, he’d snapped at the detective sergeant, “All right. Out with it.”
He knew exactly what the smirks were regarding.
Kissing Leo had been impulsive, and doing so within view of the open back door to the morgue’s office, reckless. His blood had simmered high and hot the second he’d had her in his arms, crushed against him. When her lips parted against his, allowing him to deepen the kiss, he’d tumbled well past caring where they were or who might see them. Thankfully—and irritatingly—the detective sergeant had interrupted before Jasper could completely lose control of the moment, and of himself.
“Nothing to say, guv. Nothing at all,” Lewis replied, still grinning like a fool. “Except that you and Miss Spencer are a good match.”
Jasper had shifted on the hard bench, uncertain how to respond. He and Leo weren’tmatched. They weren’t courting. What they were was too fragile to define just yet. Still, he knew kissing her the way he had and the desire building within him for her only led to one place.
“She’s smart, serious,” Lewis had gone on conversationally. “Like my missus.”
