Page 12 of In the Midnight Hour

“Certainly, my lord.” George took himself off.

“Shall I stay in case you require anything further?” Rook asked.

Swallowing the last of his toast, North picked up the Observer and leaned against the chairback. “Sir Radnor’s death has me perplexed. Something is off, though I can’t say what.”

Moving closer to the table, Rook lowered his voice. “I did hear a bit of gossip from Henderson—Mr. White’s butler—if that’s of interest to you.”

North set the paper down and turned to the butler, giving him his full attention. “Most definitely.”

“Sir Radnor and Lady Cartwright aren’t just neighbors. They’re close friends who dine together often.”

“I know that already.” North was disappointed. Indeed, the Observer had also mentioned that.

“Do you?” Rook gave him an apologetic look. “Then perhaps this won’t be interesting to you at all.”

Hope sparked anew in North’s chest. “Is there more?”

“Yes.”

“Then do continue.”

Rook cleared his throat. “Lady Cartwright was apparently at Sir Radnor’s house quite late this past Friday, which isn’t unusual. What is unusual is that she returned to her house using the gate that joins Sir Radnor’s back garden to hers.”

North’s breath caught. “They share a gate?” Lady Cartwright hadn’t mentioned that, nor had anyone at Sir Radnor’s house. But why should they? Perhaps someone in the household had informed Drummond when he’d conducted his interviews. It was even possible that Lady Cartwright had told him.

She could come and go from Sir Radnor’s house without scrutiny. North hoped Drummond had ascertained whether all the doors of Sir Radnor’s house were kept locked at night and if they’d been secured the night he’d died.

Rook’s fair brows met. “Is that an important piece of information, my lord?”

“It’s an interesting one.” A widow stealing into and away from a widowed baronet’s house in the dark hours of the night was questionable, if not suspicious. But perhaps there was nothing nefarious; it was simply a quick and easy way for her to walk home. “Do you know what time she returned home?”

“Around or just after midnight, I believe.”

North narrowed his eyes at Rook. “And this is all from this servants’ network of gossip?”

Rook nodded. “You said something was off about Sir Radnor’s death. Was it not an accident?”

North stood abruptly. “I’m going to visit my brother. Please send for the coach. I’m going upstairs to dress.” He wanted to know what Drummond had reported.

And Harry would be able to tell him.

Chapter 4

Harry Sheffield, North’s younger twin by twelve minutes, had moved to Cavendish Square after marrying earlier this year. His house was twice as large as North’s. It was also known as the headquarters of the “Spitfire Society,” a group of women who worked diligently on charitable endeavors, including an orphanage in East London, which Harry’s wife, Selina, was working to found.

Their butler, Culpepper, answered the door and greeted North warmly. “Mr. Sheffield is shortly to leave, my lord.”

“Then it’s good I’ve arrived now,” North said with a smile. “Where shall I find him?”

“In his study.”

“Excellent.” North made his way to his brother’s study and nearly crashed into him as Harry stepped into the doorway.

“Damnation, North, I almost knocked you down,” Harry said, his dark auburn brows drawing together.

North smirked. “You could try.”

“And I would have no trouble,” Harry said without a hint of irony. He was probably right, for he was broader in the shoulders than North and more muscular from his work at Bow Street. North, however, had a half inch over him.