Those eyes.
Peter thrived on making people laugh, and Celia’s laugh was the very best of all. It was because she was so very much herself, sheltered behind a natural reserve, but if a fellow could surprise her or tease her or come up with just the right irony, she would look almost startled and then her laugh was exactly and perfectly and genuinely herself. It was addictive; he kept noticing things that she would enjoy, saving stories that were sweet or striking to share with her. Every moment he was with her, he was sunk in both a bone-deep peace and also filled with effervescence—to do better, be clever, be the best of the hundred selves he had lived.
But he had to stay focused on what was best for her, and a man who received anonymous threats to his womenfolk was not that. If he proposed to Celia and got her mixed up in street mobs and blackmail, that would be a thousand times worse. She should marry a sensible gentleman living a sensible life.
Leavenworth’s low voice cut into Peter’s scrambling thoughts. “You could quit. Go home.”
Peter scoffed. “Last I checked, both of us were content to leave the countryside to our stewards.” The familiar bite of guilt cut at him.
“While we chase the high life in London?” Leavenworth sighed. “It’s not as exciting as I’d hoped.”
“Didn’t you just get a commission for a speech?”
“Already written. See? Now life is dull again.”
Peter shook his head in sympathy. Leavenworth was bored because he did the work of three men before noon; he hadn’t found a job that could keep up with him.
Leavenworth kicked a loose brick in the hearth back into place. “Don’t leave London. Just buy aproperplace where a man can live aproperlife.”
“You hate my rooms more than I—” Peter paused, comb in hand. Inspiration flashed. “With a proper hostess?”
“Exactly.”
Brilliant! He had been thinking about keeping Elinor away from the mystery threat, but he could go just the opposite! Bring her to London where he could keep an eye on her. No one could threaten to connect him with Elinor Alcott because everyone would know about Elinor Alcott. And she could host his tea parties and meet interesting people and she’d gain confidence in herself and for once in her life she’d have fun.
“All right.” Peter paced around the room, picking things up and setting them in proper rows. “So I buy a house. Where do I buy a house? Just a little one. But I’m stuck as Hughes and he can’t make major financial decisions. And Elinor Alcott could not come and live with Peter Hughes.”
Leavenworth chuckled. “I did mention that you could quit your job.”
“I’m already involved with the case. Pipperly seems simple enough, your general useless dandy-prat. Should be done by the end of April. My boss just moved to a new department, so I’m to report to a new fellow but don’t have my next orders.”
“Good time to quit.”
Peter paused, tie-pins suspended midair. What would he do with himself if he didn’t have a job? He hadn’t been a mere gentleman for a decade. “Maybe I can take some little assignments here and there. Just in London.” Things he could do while Elinor was with her governess, or whatever girls were supposed to do.
“You need a valet,” Leavenworth said. “He’d brush out that coat for you.”
“After I get the house.”
“And a haircut. That won’t wait.”
“You could cut my hair,” Peter suggested. “Or your man.”
Leavenworth chuckled. “Neither of us know what to do with your slippery white-person hair. Take an hour and go to the barber.”
Peter snorted. He’d have to sit still for an hour.
“All right.” Leavenworth stretched his hands, knitted them behind his head. “I came to work out our plan for tomorrow, but this throws it all on its head. What’s the word, officer?”
Peter hated not having enough pieces to put together a strategy. “We need to listen around, Lieutenant-Colonel, Sir. You go to your party, I’ll go to Brooks’s. Ask your… I don’t know, your tailor, your housekeeper. See who knows anything about my family, or who has a grudge against me. And ask about a house for sale.”
Leavenworth growled and pounded a fist into his palm. “Time to takedownthis slubber de gullion whodaresto even mention yoursister’sname.”
“Good.” It had better work. Elinor had enough trials in her life without him making things worse.
And it was time to stop thinking about Celia.
*
