Chapter 13

13

A lthough Adrian spoke to several other friends and acquaintances who came to impart their regrets, his attention remained on Miss Carmichael's retreating figure.

Why had she come?

Although she had been invited to join Evie for tea, the two hadn't met more than once, and even then only briefly. It seemed odd that a young lady such as Miss Carmichael would choose to spend a miserable Sunday morning attending the funeral of someone she barely knew.

He could think of only two reasons. She was either goodness personified or in possession of an ulterior motive.

"Anything on her yet?" he asked Murry as soon as the last well-wishers had taken their leave.

"Not much," Murry told him. "According to the records I've found, Mr. Harlowe raised her and four other girls as though they were his own. One of the others is right over there – Lady Heathbrooke's companion, Miss Melody Roberts. I see nothing suspicious yet, though one might imagine he's trying to find a place for Miss Carmichael next. Either as governess or companion. She is of an age."

"How old is she," Adrian asked. He sent Murry a sideways glance. "Do you know?"

"Four and twenty."

Well beyond debutante age then. What most would think of as firmly on the shelf. "I'm surprised he's waited this long."

Another aspect that made little sense.

"They're a very private family, that much is clear," Murry said. "Finding out precisely why she's starting to make a regular appearance will likely take time."

"Thank you, Murry." Adrian straightened his spine when he saw Mr. Harlowe approach. "Please keep digging."

The order was possibly moot, for the first thing Mr. Harlowe said when Adrian mentioned the lovely words Miss Carmichael had imparted was that he thanked his good fortune for her and her sisters' daily assistance.

"My sight is not what it once was," Mr. Harlowe explained. "And I find myself becoming increasingly forgetful. Were it not for Miss Carmichael's help, I'd be utterly lost."

Adrian studied the older man. He appeared as friendly and pleasant as when they'd last met, but Adrian knew all too well that this could be a fa?ade. As such, he rarely trusted anyone who smiled too easily. Trouble was Harlowe had the sort of genuine demeanor that invited people to like him. It was difficult not to, Adrian realized.

Still, he did what he could to keep up his guard. "My father spoke highly of you, Mr. Harlowe. I appreciate your coming."

"It would have weighed heavily on my heart if I hadn't," Mr. Harlowe informed him.

The sentiment was welcome – so much so it made Adrian's eyes sting a little. His throat tightened, and for a moment, he found himself struggling to keep his composure under control. By the time he'd collected himself to some degree of satisfaction, the man was gone, along with most of the other mourners.

Adrian gulped down a breath and crossed to where Edward stood, alone in grim contemplation. "Will you return to the house with me for a drink?"

Edward dragged his gaze away from Evie's grave. Unlike Adrian, he failed to hide his emotions. The heartbreak he felt over Evie's death was etched in every aspect of his appearance, from the slightly untidy clothes that looked as though they'd been slept in to the watery brightness of his moss-green eyes.

He swallowed hard before nodding. Moments later, he fell into step at Adrian's side as they left the churchyard behind.

"I realize this is a difficult subject," Adrian said once they were alone in his study. All his life, this room had belonged to his father. It was the place from which he'd conducted his business and as such, Adrian hadn't set foot in it since he'd died.

Until three days prior when he had accepted his lot and, in so doing, realized he needed a place from which to run his own operations. The first meeting with him as head of the Croft business had since taken place in this room. Now that he'd settled upon his purpose, the space from which deadly orders had always been given suited his mood immensely.

"What subject would that be?" Edward asked. He accepted the glass Adrian gave him and took a seat in one of the vacant armchairs that faced the wide oak desk.

Instead of claiming the chair on the opposite side of the desk, Adrian chose the one next to Edward's, then angled himself toward him. "Your fondness for Evie. I now regret not bringing it up before. Perhaps if I'd done so, you would have realized you had my blessing. Maybe then, you'd have asked her to be your wife and she would not have met such a brutal end."

"I loved her beyond compare," Edward said while frowning into the glass he held between both hands.

"And she loved you." When Edward raised his gaze to Adrian with utter defeat in his eyes, Adrian assured him, "It showed every time she looked your way, when the pair of you danced, and even at the sound of your name."

Edward shook his head then took a long sip of his drink. "I don't understand how this happened. The lie in the paper is one thing, but what would have made her leave the safety of her home unescorted? I never would have believed she could be so reckless."

It was a point Adrian had gone over endless times since. He firmly believed Evie's death was his fault, that it could have been prevented if he'd just paid more attention instead of being preoccupied by the need for bedsport.

Disgusted with himself, he'd ended things with Veronica Miles as soon as he'd left the morgue.

"You know as well as I she was trusting. It was the best of her since it made her kind, but it was also the worst of her because of the na?veté it led to." Adrian drank a measure of brandy then set his glass aside on the edge of his desk.

"Clearly, her killer – undoubtedly the same man who saw to Miss Fairchild, Lady Camille, and Miss Irvine's demises – made a mistake in this instance. He thought her a wanton because of the gossip the newspaper chose to spread. But I can say with certainty that they were wrong. Not because my love for my sister has blinded me to the possibility of her having such inclinations but because the results of the examination the coroner gave her proves it."

Edward stared at him. "What are you saying?"

Adrian was fairly sure his next words might result in Edward punching him in the face. Or worse. "I had to be certain, so I asked for a thorough report. Evie's maidenhead was intact."

There was the briefest of pauses before Edward shot to his feet, hurled his glass at the fireplace, and grabbed Adrian by his lapels. Gripping the garment so firmly it tightened across Adrian's back, Edward lowered his head until their faces met at eye level.

"What the hell is wrong with you," he growled. "You had no right to have her defiled in such a way."

"Of course I did," Adrian countered. "She was my unmarried sister and as such, she was under my protection. Not yours or anyone else's."

Edward held his gaze for a long, insufferable moment before shoving him backward, releasing him in the process. With a loud and very uncivilized curse, he stalked to the sideboard and poured a fresh drink for himself.

"If I am to solve this case and find the man who killed her," Adrian said while straightening his jacket, "I need all my questions answered."

He'd known in his heart that Evie would never play the harlot, but now he had proof. The paper, however, claimed otherwise, and since this was what had gotten her killed, the article they'd written about her suddenly looked like much more than the possible mistake they'd agreed to investigate.

As far as Adrian was concerned, this had been a deliberate attack on her life. Though he still had trouble grasping the notion.

"I don't suppose she ever mentioned a falling out to you," he asked Edward.

"Your sister had few friends due to your father's overbearing manner."

Adrian couldn't dispute it. Evie's life had been horribly sheltered. Even he had likely frightened away more than one potential suitor. Not that Evie would have had eyes for anyone other than Edward, but perhaps the attention would have been nice.

He cast that thought aside. If she hadn't had enemies, then why had that terrible lie been concocted? To hurt him perhaps? Whatever the case, he'd stop at nothing until the responsible party paid for this crime. To Edward, he said, "If anything else comes to mind, please let me know."

"So you can pass it on to Bow Street?"

No. He didn't dare rely upon them, and while Edward's question suggested he had some inkling of this, Adrian still nodded. Revealing how far he was willing to go when it came to his sister would be unwise.

At best, it would upset Edward's stomach. At worst, it would cause psychological damage and alter the one remaining relationship Adrian valued.

"I've gone over every conversation I had with her." Edward kept his attention on Adrian. "Nothing pertinent comes to mind, but I'll keep trying."

"Thank you."

In his pocket was the button he'd found at St. Bartholomew's church when he'd gone to leave a rose in her memory. Concealed beneath leaves of ivy, it would have been hard for Kendrick and his Runners to spot in the early hours of the morning. He'd only glimpsed the item because the sun had been in the right position to bounce off the gilded edge. While it wasn't much for him to go on, it was a start.

"I trust you'll let me know if you learn anything?" Edward said. "I'd like to be kept up to date, if possible."

"Of course," Adrian promised, choosing to keep the button a secret.

He got up early the following morning and readied himself for the day with a new sense of purpose.

"Come breakfast with me," he told Murry. He invited the rest of the staff to join him as well – anything to fill the dining room with chatter and to keep him from focusing on the one vacant chair that made his heart hurt.

Somehow, he got through three slices of toast, some bacon and eggs, plus two cups of coffee, all while learning that Sarah – one of the upstairs maids – had a near-blind father.

"Take him to the clinic on Bedford." Adrian told her. "Maybe they're able to help. I'll pay the bill."

Sarah gaped at him then blinked in rapid succession. "I couldn't possibly, Mr. Croft. It's too great an imposition."

"And yet I insist." Adrian turned to Murry. "I'll trust you to offer assistance while I deal with other matters?"

"Of course," Murry promised.

Sarah proceeded to thank Adrian profusely while he finished off the last of his coffee. Ensuring the happiness of his employees was vital to securing their loyalty. So he paid them all exceedingly well, just as his father had done before him, and offered occasional perks, like sending Cook to Ipswich for her niece's wedding and making sure Sarah's father received the best medical treatment available.

He downed the last of his coffee, then collected his hat and gloves and set off by carriage.

Today he'd begin his hunt.

Puddles from last night's heavier rainfall littered the ground, creating an overall sense of wetness despite the sun's effort to force its way through between scattered clouds. Comfortably seated against the plush squabs, Adrian flipped the button he'd found between his fingers.

The markings on the back of it told him where to begin his search. Just to be sure, he'd checked the buttons on one of his own jackets for a similar imprint, and had found that they were exactly the same.

T.G.E.

The Gentlemen's Emporium.

He arrived there soon enough and entered the exclusive shop.

"Mr. Jenkins," he said, addressing the elderly gentleman who worked there. "I find myself in need of a new set of clothes and am hoping you might assist me."

"Of course, Mr. Croft. Your business is always welcome."

They proceeded to look at a series of cuts from various fabrics. Adrian made sure to pick a few especially pricy items, like a waistcoat fashioned from ice blue silk, embroidered in silver thread and adorned with mother of pearl buttons. It cost twice as much as the velvet jacket he also selected.

"On a different note," he told Mr. Jenkins as soon as the purchase had been concluded, "I'd like you to look at this button for me. Couldn't help but notice that it's a different design from the ones you're currently using."

He handed the round gold fastening over and watched while Mr. Jenkins proceeded to study it.

"This was used two years ago. An issue arose with the manufacturer. We found that the quality no longer met with our standards, so we started ordering from a different supplier."

"If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to see your purchase records from that particular year."

Mr. Jenkins's eyebrows rose. He set the button on the counter and gave Adrian a wary look. "That would be a breach of trust between us and our clients. I'm afraid I'll have to deny your request."

Adrian understood him, but that didn't make him less determined. He leaned forward and did his best to try and look pleasant. "I wonder if you follow the news, Mr. Jenkins."

"Yes…I…forgive me. I must confess I was shocked to hear of your sister."

Adrian gritted his teeth. So the old man knew, yet he'd not said a word when Adrian entered the shop. He took a deep breath, tried not to think of the velvet-clad coffin under the ground.

Allowing anger and pain to guide him would only make it harder to think.

"I found that button when I visited the site where she was killed. As you can imagine, I'd like to know whom it belongs to."

"While I sympathize with you, I cannot help you in this. The shop's exclusivity is due in part to the full discretion we offer our clients. This will easily suffer if it becomes known that we're sharing purchase records with anyone who stops by to ask."

Adrian stared at Mr. Jenkins, watching steadily as he adjusted his spectacles. He'd hoped to avoid resorting to his father's methods during this visit, but if he was going to meet with results, he'd clearly have to apply more pressure.

"As I understand it, your son has a well-paid position within the army. He's managed to create a comfortable life for himself and his family. It would be a pity if he were to find himself stripped of his rank because of some crime he'd committed."

A mixture of disgust and fear filled Mr. Jenkins' expression. "You would ensure such a thing if I fail to betray the rest of my clients?"

"There is little I would not resort to in order to find the man who murdered my sister."

"You'll pay for it with your soul," Mr. Jenkins murmured, shaking his head and retrieving a ledger. "If you don't mind, I'd rather you look at it in that storeroom, just to be sure nobody sees."

Adrian thanked him, took the ledger, and stepped into a small space lined with shelves filled with various boxes. He removed a few to create a space for the ledger to sit, then proceeded to browse through the various names.

Given the fact that the killer had managed to lure Evie to him, Adrian had to assume it was someone she knew and trusted. He was therefore especially interested in the men she'd danced with on more than one occasion since her debut last spring.

Unfortunately, The Gentlemen's Emporium was a popular shop. Every single gentleman Adrian thought of was listed. All had made purchases two years prior, which made it impossible for him to rule anyone out. He was no better off than before. If anything, he left the shop feeling worse for having forced Mr. Jenkins's hand.

Unhappy with himself and the lack of progress he'd made, he ordered the carriage to take him home so he could collect a change of clothes and pick up Murry. Together they'd head to Reed's for a much-needed round of physical exertion. All he wanted right now was to punch someone. And to take a rough beating in return.