Chapter Thirty-Seven

Once they were safely back on the Strand, Harry gave a whoop of triumph loud enough to startle the pigeons.

"Success! I didn't think we'd find anything, to be honest."

Ellie smiled, secretly delighted that the lead had paid off. She'd spent hours on similar cases and never had a jot of luck. "Let's head back to the office."

She glanced around for Carson and the carriage, but Harry caught her arm and tucked it into the crook of his own.

"What's the rush? The sun is out, the air is bracing. Let's take a stroll."

She glanced up at him in suspicion. "Why?"

"Why not? You've heard the adage ‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.'"

"Are you saying I'm dull ?"

His teeth flashed in a grin. "Not at all. You're fascinating. But you're also in danger of working too hard. You need to learn to enjoy the moment."

"By wandering about aimlessly?"

"Wandering aimlessly is an art. What's wrong with a little spontaneity?"

"Well, nothing, I suppose, but I prefer to—"

He looked down at her, a teasing glint in his eye. "You prefer to plan. I know. You read the whole guide book before going to a museum, and then you set out to see four or five very specific items on your list."

Ellie drew back a little, stung by his accuracy. "What's wrong with that? Don't tell me you had such success as a thief without planning things."

"Of course not. But you also need to leave room for the unexpected. For improvisation."

"Is that what this is? Improvisation?" she said drily.

"Indeed. One must be open to being surprised, or to discovering something new. Because who knows? That unexpected thing might just end up being your favorite piece in the whole museum."

"Hmm," Ellie said. Still, she turned her face up and enjoyed the faint warmth of the sun on her skin.

"The Italians have a saying for it," Harry continued easily. " Dolce far niente . It means ‘sweet idleness.' But doing nothing is actually very difficult. We often feel like we should fill every minute of the day with something productive, but sometimes just lying on your back and finding shapes in the clouds, or watching the bubbles float past in a river, is as much diversion as one could possibly need."

"You sound like you've mastered it."

"I have indeed."

They strolled past a variety of shops, peering into the windows of each. Ellie admired the coats on display in the furriers, the pianofortes in Mr. Mott's establishment, and the satirical engravings in the print shop of George Peirce.

Two rather inebriated gentlemen stumbled down the steps of Hunt's Cigar Lounge and Billiard Room, but their open admiration of Ellie stopped abruptly when they saw Harry's sword cane, and the subtly threatening way he toyed with the lion's head handle.

Harry spent far too long considering the wares in the window of Edward Cahan, tailor, and Baddeley the bootmaker, but when Carson finally appeared with the carriage Ellie was glad that they'd taken the time to get some fresh air.

Being near Harry was both a pleasure and a bittersweet torment. He seemed to enjoy her company, to want to be her friend as well as her lover, but she couldn't help worry that his attention was only temporary.

She was afraid to trust this newfound closeness. Perhaps he only saw her as an amusing fling, a necessary stepping stone in his path to reclaiming his rightful place in the world.

For her part, she couldn't regret giving herself to him, but it would be better for her heart if she didn't make love with him again until she was absolutely certain of his identity.

If it wasn't for the fact that he'd promised to leave London if she proved he wasn't Henry Brooke, she'd almost prefer him to be a liar. The chances of him choosing to continue their liaison if he was an earl were remote. The ton was full of prettier, more socially accomplished girls who'd make him the perfect partner. The fact that he desired her physically would hardly be enough of a draw. She had to be realistic.

Tess and Daisy were both at the office when they got back. Tess pulled down their well-worn copy of Boyle's Town Visiting Directory , and it was a simple enough matter to find that there was a physician by the name of Emberton with an office on New Bridge Street, near Blackfriars Bridge.

"Is it too late to call on him now?" Tess queried, looking at the clock on the mantelpiece.

Ellie shook her head. "We might as well try." She glanced over at Harry, who was showing Daisy a gruesome-looking move with one of her knives.

"Do you want to come?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," he said.

"I'll come too," Daisy added with a smile.

The elegant gray dome of St Paul's Cathedral loomed over the rooftops as the three of them stepped down onto New Bridge Street. A steady stream of carts and carriages rattled across the Thames, and Daisy pointed to a sign shaped like a pair of spectacles swinging above one of the doors. The gilt letters below read EMBERTON he couldn't possibly be the man who'd examined Harry's eyes. He would have been a boy himself.

Still, she needed to eliminate all doubt. "I wonder if you can help us, sir? I don't suppose your father, or even your grandfather, also practiced from this location? We're looking for the Dr. Emberton who published a paper on the human eye for the Royal Society."

"Ah. That would be my father."

"Could we speak with him?"

"Sadly not; he passed away last summer."

Disappointment flooded her. "Oh, I'm sorry," she murmured automatically.

The young man nodded to accept her condolences.

"I don't suppose you still have his notes, do you?" Daisy asked. "Harry here was the subject of that paper."

The doctor gave a visible start. He twirled toward Harry and stared intently at his face. " You're the one!" His tone was one of awed wonder. "At last! I can't believe it! Please, come closer so I can see your eyes."

Harry did so, turning to the light that streamed in through the shop windows, as the doctor peered closely at his irises.

"My father spoke of you quite often," Emberton said, his voice rising in excitement. "He was intrigued by your case. I always hoped you'd come back one day so I could see you for myself."

He was staring at Harry with fascinated delight, as if Harry were a strange creature in a circus. Ellie felt oddly protective of him.

"His notes?" she prompted.

The doctor turned from his inspection of Harry and heaved a deep sigh. "Ah. Now there's a little problem there, I'm afraid. In the last few years of his life my father became a little… erratic." He made a pained face. "His mind began to wander, and he became convinced that there were secrets and conspiracies around every corner."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

Emberton gave a sad little laugh. "Well, he thought our neighbor, old Mrs. Brown, was secretly a witch who could turn into a black cat. And he thought that you , sir, had been kidnapped!"

Harry blinked, then let out a bark of incredulous laughter. "Me? Kidnapped? Why?"

"You disappeared," Emberton said, his face serious. "Father kept trying to find you, to do a follow-up to his paper, to see if your eyes had changed over time, but Harry Brooke, son of the Earl of Cobham, had vanished without a trace!"

He shook his head. "I told him he was being ridiculous, imagining things. But he was right."

"Not entirely," Harry said. "I left England, but I wasn't kidnapped. I went to Italy with my uncle, after my parents died."

An embarrassed flush stained Emberton's cheeks. "I knew there would be a reasonable explanation. Still, Father became convinced that there had been foul play. People began talking about the ‘Lost Earl,' and his mind spun all manner of elaborate fantasies. He was sure that if you were still alive, and somehow managed to escape your captors, that you'd return to claim your rightful inheritance."

"That's not too far from the truth," Daisy said. "We're hoping to prove that Harry's the Lost Earl."

"Your father told you that the child he'd studied for the paper was Lord Cobham's son?" Ellie pressed. "Because there was no mention of his name in the published paper."

Emberton nodded. "Yes. It was written in his notes. There was a letter signed by Lord Cobham agreeing for the study to be published, and records of the payments made to my father for his services."

Ellie's heart gave an excited leap. This was exactly the kind of evidence they needed.

"Father was sure his notes would be important in helping you prove who you were," Emberton said to Harry. "He wanted to store them ‘somewhere safe,' but he refused to keep them here, or at our house in Chancery Lane. He didn't trust sending them to Cobham Hall, or to your house here in town, either, in case they fell into ‘the wrong hands.'"

He shook his head with a laugh that was filled with bleak humor. "I suggested a bank vault, but he pointed out that even if he left instructions for Henry Brooke, Earl of Cobham, to be permitted access to the contents, you wouldn't be able to prove you were him to get to them."

"Like Plutarch's riddle about the chicken and the egg," Ellie murmured. "One has to come before the other."

"Exactly!"

"So what did he do?"

"He said they needed to be kept somewhere safe and dry, but in a place that didn't require any particular identification to visit. He considered hiding them somewhere in the British Museum, but in the end, he made me put them in the one place he considered the safest in England."

Emberton's face scrunched up as if he were embarrassed to finish the story.

"And where's that?" Ellie was already dreading the answer.

"The Tower of London."

Ellie gaped at the doctor. "You can't be serious."

Emberton unscrewed his face and looked at her. "I'm so sorry. I honestly never thought anyone would come back and ask for them. I was just humoring him."

"Where exactly did you hide them?" Daisy asked. "A storage room? An office?"

"They're in one of the cells that used to house prisoners in years gone by. In the Beauchamp Tower. You used to be able to visit it if you went on a tour. I put them on a ledge, about two feet up inside the chimney breast in the room with the name Arundel scratched into the wall."

Emberton shrugged. "I'm sorry. I just did as Father asked."

Harry gave his shoulder a reassuring pat. "You were a dutiful son. I don't blame you in the slightest. This just makes things that much more interesting."

Ellie rolled her eyes. Harry used words like "interesting" where other people used "difficult" or "dangerous" or "bloody impossible." Still, she admired his optimism. No doubt he was delighted to have been presented with yet another challenge.

"Thank you, Doctor. You've been extremely helpful. We'll let you know if we meet with any success." She crossed to the door and stepped out into the street as Daisy and Harry took their leave.