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“How awful.”
“The business is strong enough that it didn’t ruin it.”
“Did he feel a sense of responsibility for the loss of life? Could he have killed himself out of remorse?”
“The man I met didn’t seem capable of empathy. When I brought up the tragedy, he was dismissive.”
“Why did you need to talk about the ship sinking with him?”
He crossed his arms. “I was wondering when you’d ask about my investigation. I can’t tell you, Cleo. It’s confidential.”
“Come now, Harry, you can confide in me. You know I’m discreet. Mr. Massie will never know I’m assisting you.”
It took him a moment to work out how I knew his client’s name. “Floyd,” he said flatly.
“He told me he spoke to Mr. Massie about you, but he didn’t know why the Salt King needed your services.”
“Massie wants total confidentiality. Details of my investigation are given only to those who need to know. Currently that consists of me and me alone.” He rose to put on his coat.
I stood too. “Currently? That sounds as though you may need my assistance at some point.”
He drew my umbrella out of the holder and handed it to me, but he did not let go. Our hands were close but not touching. “You’re reading too much into my words, as usual.”
“Then you shouldn’t say anything that is open to interpretation.”
He tugged ever so slightly on the umbrella, drawing me closer. We stood toe to toe, my nose reaching the height of his chest. My blood quickened. My skin tightened in anticipation of his touch. I tilted my head back to regard him properly. The heat in his hooded gaze thrilled me and worried me at the same time. I wasn’t sure what to do. Stand on my toes and kiss him? Or step away?
He made the decision for us both. With a sharp intake of breath, his fingers brushed mine before he released the umbrella. He plucked his hat off the stand and turned to the door. “My father will want to speak to you. I’m having afternoon tea with my parents at three-thirty. You should come.”
It wasn’t the most enthusiastic invitation, but I accepted before I knew what I was saying.
Harry opened the door and indicated I should walk ahead of him. At the base of the stairs, before we stepped outside into the rain, he said, “If it does turn out to be murder, you will be careful, won’t you? Don’t confront the killer alone. I’m always available to help.”
“I promised my uncle I’ll be careful and I plan to keep that promise.”
His brows shot up his forehead. “He has given his permission for you to investigate?”
“And his permission for me to investigate with you.”
His jaw dropped and his eyes widened. “Why the change of heart?”
I almost told him that his relationship with Miss Morris had given Uncle Ronald the assurance he needed that Harry wasn’t interested in me romantically, but I stopped myself. I didn’t want him to know there was a condition attached to the agreement. “I can be quite convincing when I want to be,” was all I said, adding a wink for good measure.
He chuckled as he held the front door open. I put up my umbrella and stepped out. Harry flipped up his coat collar, put on his hat, and rushed ahead, skipping over puddles with ease.
***
I hurried back to the hotel with the umbrella pulled as close to my hat as possible to avoid getting wet further. My efforts were thwarted when an omnibus sporting a large advertisement for Colman’s Mustard barreled through a puddle as I approached the hotel. I received a drenching and a teasing from both Frank the doorman, and Goliath, one of the porters.
“Didn’t you leave in a light blue dress, Miss?” Frank said as he tried to contain a grin. “Now it’s more of a muddy color.” Grinning wasn’t Frank’s natural state. He was a crusty old scowler, but he seemed to take delight in my predicament. At least my filthy, wet condition was good for something.
Goliath sniffed the air above my head. “You smell like the gutter, Miss Fox. No offence.”
“Saying ‘no offence’ doesn’t lessen the blow, Goliath.” I joined them under the porch roof and lowered my umbrella. “Do either of you remember a guest by the name of Tobias Plumtree? He used to stay here a few years ago but stopped after buying a house in the city upon his marriage.”
Goliath shook his head, but Frank knew the name. “He had a nice growler that his coachman kept in perfect nick.”
“What can you tell me about Mr. Plumtree?”
