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“Then I stopped at Madam Fleur’s.” Rafe sighed. “Don’t give me that look.”
Henry raised his hands. “I didn’t take you for that sort of fellow.”
“What, a live one?” Rafe’s half-hearted attempt at a joke completely failed as hurt flashed across Henry’s face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that. It’s just that you’ve come at a terrible time.”
Henry leaned over and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Those are the times when you need friends the most. You showed me that.”
Rafe’s throat tightened. “Thank you.”
“Here, have a bun,” Henry prompted. “They’re extraordinary. Tully refuses to give up the recipe.”
Rafe took one from the proffered plate and couldn’t hold back his smile. “We’re all allowed a few secrets.”
“Easy for you to say when you have access to a never-ending supply.”
“Actually, Tully only makes them when the spirit moves him.”
And that always seemed to coincide with times when Rafe was feeling down or had to do something difficult. Perhaps his surly valet deserved a raise.
Henry gave a thoughtful nod as he took another bun for himself. They both ate in satisfied silence for a few moments.
“Now, then,” Rafe prompted. “I know you didn’t just come here to have my valet harangue me and share a pot of tea.”
Henry set down his half-eaten bun. “No. I didn’t.” He then handed Rafe the folder he had been reading. “That is everything I could find on your Sylvia Wilcox.”
Rafe’s eyes widened. “I didn’t ask you to do that,” he snapped. “And she isn’tmyanything.” But he took it without another word and began leafing through the papers. He squinted and drew a page closer. He needed to find his damned glasses. “How on earth did you manage to get her university exam scores?”
“Took the train up to Oxford. Not bad for my first case, eh? Do you know, if Oxford actually bothered to bestow their female students with degrees, she would have gotten a first in the English tripos? A rather impressive woman. But I suppose that’s not entirely surprising, given her parents.”
Rafe looked up from the documents. “What do you mean?”
“Her father, Richard Wilcox, was an economist and moral philosopher. Rather well known in his day. Of course, he published so rarely after his wife died that whispers grew that she was the real brains behind him.”
“Sylvia mentioned her once. Something about how she had always wanted to go to university.”
“Yes, she was the daughter of a wealthy Bristol merchant. He hired a young man just down from Oxford to tutor her.” He then arched a brow.
“The aforementioned Richard Wilcox,” Rafe guessed.
“Correct. They married and she bore him a son shortly afterward. Never did make it to university.”
Henry didn’t need to say the rest. The implication was clear. Apparently the study of morality stopped at his own behavior.
“Well, perhaps she was happy,” Rafe said weakly. “Perhaps…that was what she wanted.”
“A possibility, certainly, orperhapsshe had regrets of her own. So she encouraged her daughter from a young age to prioritize her education. To make bolder choices. Choices that had been lost to her.”
Rafe looked back at the documents before him. “You can’t possibly know all that from this.”
Henry chuckled. “If only. No, I spoke to some of Professor Wilcox’s old colleagues at Oxford. And the wife of one of his oldest friends who lives in a neighboring village, a Mrs. DeLacey. She had quite a lot to say about the family.” Rafe found himself leaning forward, rapt. “Nothing good about the son, or old Wilcox himself. But she adored the late Mrs. Wilcox and said Sylvia took her mother’s death very hard.”
“After Sylvia came back from London, there were some who shunned her, but others approved of the way she took on the household management and cared for her father until he died, especially given Lionel’s absence and the rumors of money troubles. Mrs. DeLacey expressed surprise when she learned the house had been let after Richard Wilcox passed. She had assumed Sylvia would continue to live there.”
Rafe had discovered that Lionel had been letting it to a retired bachelor professor for a handsome price these last few months.
“Well, at least justice has been done in that case,” Rafe muttered.
Henry watched him for a long moment. “Will you really let that be the end of it? One anonymous grand gesture?”
