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The detective bent over the table and gathered the papers and shoved them into the folder. “There are further questions. Many of them. At this point I suggest you retain a barrister and report to the police station at ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”
Marsh flipped his notebook closed and stood. The two men lumbered from the room. Amy wrapped her arms around her middle, sick to her stomach. “What are you going to do, William?”
He ran his fingers through his hair and sat alongside her, his hands dangling between his spread knees. “I am going to do exactly as Detective Carson said. I shall spend the rest of this day retaining a barrister.” He shook his head. “I cannot believe this.”
“Do you know what else this means?” Amy asked.
“What? Don’t tell me things could get worse.”
“Probably, but now that the detectives have you at the very top of their list, they’re going to do to you what they did with me last year when St. Vincent was killed. They’re going to spend all their time and resources attempting to find you guilty rather than looking at other suspects. It is up to us to find the killer first.”
William gave a slight laugh. “I’m not sure I can concentrate on finding a killer now that I have this mess on my hands.” He slumped back against the sofa. “Do you realize how much time I will need to go over my financial records? And how many fires I will have to put out with the damage Harding has done to my name? I have always enjoyed a stellar reputation, and now it appears there are some people who view me as a scoundrel.”
“There is no reason why I can’t continue with the investigation while you are busy.”
“No!”
Amy jumped back, her hand at her throat. “Goodness, William. You frightened me.”
William blew out a breath. “I apologize. But under no circumstances are you to pursue this matter on your own. We’ve already been shot at. I agree that we must continue to search for the killer. With the detectives telling me to meet them tomorrow and to have a barrister with me, there is no doubt that they are considering me a suspect.”
They were both silent for a few moments, staring off into space. Their reverie was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and Papa coming through the door. From the sounds of their voices, he and Michael were in the middle of a disagreement. Between William’s troubles and Papa’s irritation with her publisher, it was probably not the best time for Papa to arrive.
“Good afternoon, Amy.” Papa’s eyes lit up at the sight of William sitting alongside her. “And Lord Wethington, good to see you, lad.”
Amy groaned to herself. She really wished Papa would stop referring to William as a lad. He and Michael were the same age, and with all the business Papa and Michael did together, she doubted her papa considered her brother a lad.
William stood and shook Lord Winchester’s hand, then turned to Amy’s brother. “Good afternoon.” He stopped, looked down at Amy, and turned back to Papa. “My lord, may I have a few minutes of your time?”
Papa’s face broke into a huge smile, but Amy was sure William was not requesting an audience with her father for the reason the poor man thought. Being a smart man, William was going to turn to Papa for help.
The two men left the drawing room, most likely headed to the library. Michael grinned at her. “Should we be planning a wedding?”
“No.” She wasn’t quite sure if she should tell Michael what was going on, but she didn’t want him harboring the idea that William was drawing up marriage contracts.
“William has a problem, and I believe he wishes Papa’s counsel on it, since his own father is deceased.”
“That sounds serious.”
Amy sighed. “I’m afraid it is.” Knowing her brother to be very discreet, she told him the tale of Harding’s death, relating that William’s business card had been found on him so that he was requested to identify the body. She left out the part where she was there as well.
She skipped over other parts too, especially breaking into Harding’s flat and house—twice—and their compilation of a list of suspects. The men in her family were so squeamish about her doing anything except attending balls, gossiping at afternoon teas, and selecting gowns for social events. If Michael knew of their escapades, especially the part where they had been shot at, she would find herself hustled back to London and confined to her bedchamber until she was old and wrinkled.
When she finished the story of the detectives’ visit and what they had accused William of, Michael let out a low whistle. “Sounds like your young man is in trouble.”
Amy sighed, irritation springing up again at his words. Then she reconsidered and sighed again. “Yes, my young man is in trouble.”
* * *
Once they entered the library, William took the seat across from Lord Winchester and, based on the man’s demeanor, immediately realized Amy’s father was expecting him to make an offer for his daughter. William had been so rattled by the police visit that the first thing he’d thought of when his lordship walked into the room was that he could use some serious advice. Now he was about to not only disappoint the man but lay out some grim allegations regarding his reputation.
He remembered when Amy had been under suspicion last year and her father had retained a barrister for her. William cleared his throat. “My lord, I find myself in a bit of trouble, and I need the advice of someone with a few more years of experience than I have. Were my father alive, I would seek his counsel, but since he is not …”
Lord Winchester frowned. “What is the problem?”
With fits and starts, William laid out the entire situation before Amy’s father. He conveniently left out the part about him and Amy investigating the murder. There was no reason to cause her father any further alarm.
When William was finished, Lord Winchester leaned back and rested his elbow on the arm of the chair, cupping his chin with his index finger and thumb. After a few minutes of silence, he said, “I agree, Wethington, you have a serious problem on your hands.”
