Chapter 19

"I—" Rose swallowed, then shook her head as if she was dislodging a bad memory or an unwanted touch from her person then straightened in Louisa's hold. "I thought I'd seen someone from my past. D-don't mind me."

But Louisa did mind. A simple person from her past would not have evoked such a reaction from the poor girl and just as she dropped her hold, a young lad, sporting a child-sized jacket, waistcoat, and breeches, probably the son of a well-to-do family, brushed by her reticule and sent it swinging.

The boy did not stop and all she spotted was a head of dark cowlicks darting through the aisles. Diana, a couple rows ahead of them, had not noticed one thing and Louisa was relieved about that. She was not sure what to say or even explain it to the other girl.

"Are you sure you are all right?" She whispered to Rose.

"Y-yes," Rose swallowed, color faintly now marking her face. "I'm fine. Please, forget it and let us enjoy our day."

Nodding, Lousia gave her a comforting smile knowing that anything else would set and keep Rose in edge, and she did not want that. "Sure, dear, lets keep going. Have you seen these silk ribbons? Aren't they delightful."

Bypassing the small the small brass plaque on the dark door that read simply, "Cowell and Cowell," Julius took a mere moment to know he had arrived at the right place.

The office of the premier investigator bothers located down the road from Sessions House off Newgate Street, he stepped into the foot room, dominated by two tall windows on either side of a brick inserts while a circle of leather sofas and wingbacks were arranged around a coffee table.

It looked like a drawing room, not an investigator's office. A clerk came in, and bowed, "Welcome, Your Grace. Misters Henry and Harvey Cowell are about to arrive. Please make yourself comfortable. May I get you anything? Tea, coffee, water?"

"No thank you but I would appreciate a pad of paper and a pen, please," Julius replied while removing his coat and setting his hat down on the table.

The clerk took his outwear and hung it before supplying Julius with both materials and reiterated his offer for refreshment before takin a seat in the room beyond.

Clouded with silence, Julius managed to get his thoughts in order and began jotting down names, Commandant Harrington's name headed the list. While he investigated the missing clerk who could clear his name, he needed these men to investigate the commandant.

Without true rhyme or reason, he had a unshakable feeling that the man had a personal vendetta against him and he had to find out if it was true, and why the reason for the acrimony.

As he outlined his thoughts, his gaze strayed to the bookshelves crammed with tomes, ledgers, piles of loose paper, statuettes in marble and over to the side, a large porcelain vase in corner held fresh flowers.

"Your Grace," a firm voice drew his attention to the door and he found a man entering, his tall form expertly clad in dark buff trousers and grey waistcoat with subtle piping. "I am Henry Cowell apologize for making you wait, but welcome to our offices."

As Julius stood, the second man, identical twin, came striding in, brushing his jacket off. The two were mirror images of each other, and they used their uncanny appearance with each other to their advantage with their investigatory business.

"I second those sentiments," the second one, Harvey nodded. "It seems wheels axis' have a convenient way of shattering on the most important appointment a person can have."

Amused, Julius pardoned them. "I have just arrived, so your tardiness is not too egregious. Please, shall we?"

With a brusque nod, Henry moved to one of the chairs and Julius sat while the other brother went to pour out a cup of coffee before joining them. Spinning the pad of paper, he slid it to Henry.

"I need your services to find out who this man is, his history, his family, or any connection he might have that would make him irascible to me," Julius replied. "I do not know if you are familiar with my history, but I fought in the Napoleonic Wars and returned to inherit a dukedom.

"I will admit, there were many mistakes I made during my time, insubordination, yes, displaced loyalty, yes, and near misses, but I have never once premediated a crime. There was a moment when in the battle of war, I may have shot another soldier, which, if you speak to any soldier, happens in the thick of war and is simply deemed a causality of war.

"However, Commandant Harrington is going out of the way to prove I did kill a fellow soldier in spite because we had a history of disagreements in the past," Julius explained, his lips ticking down. "And the worst part of it is that I cannot disagree with him because after that incident, I was injured and woke up with memory loss of that moment."

The brothers shared a look, before Harvey asked, "Nothing at all?"

"I get…visions, you could say, at night, in my dreams but I cannot trust it because it varies from the bullet going into the man and the shot going over him into the enemy soldier behind him," Julius sighed and rubbed his face. "I cannot tell which one is true and which one it the fabrication."

"I see," Henry nodded. "And why do you believe this man might have a problem with you?"

"That is what I want to know," Julius held in his aggravation. "It is evident from his words and his actions when we met that he is already assured my actions were premeditated and done in malice. When I do not even know if it happened at all."

"And what would happen if his reasoning is purely bureaucratic regulations and not a personal vendetta?" Henry asked.

"Then I will take responsibility for any results that come from the inquiry, but my gut tells me that he is angling to get me punished for another reason," Julius said. "And I trust my instincts. It has saved my life during the war and if I am led to believe his animosity is personal, I trust it."

"I have high regards for a soldier's instinct because it is the fine line between life and death on the battlefield, but could it be that you are using battlefield logic on a civilian setting?"

The question was irksome, but Julius did not feel too bothered by it. It was only prudent for the man to ask him these probing questions and push Julius to reexamine his thought process.

"I can see why you would think so and admittedly, I have had a rough time reintegrating into civilian life and even more so, taking up the role of a gentleman," Julius admitted. "But I have found a way to separate my two lives. Yes, I do keep a vigilant lifestyle, but I make sure not to cross those lines."

Henry's assessing glance was like a scalpel, sliding under Julius's skin with precision but since he had nothing to hide, the intensity lightened, and Julius knew the man was now willing to clear his name of any wrongdoing.

"Last question," Harvey asked, "If this man is culpable of using personal motive to undermine you, what do you want to be done to him? Or rather, will you take matters into your own hands?"

"It is tempting," Julius replied honestly. "But no, the law will take care of that instead."

"Well, with that," Henry stood and extended his hand, his hand firm. "We have an agreement; Your Grace and we shall get in touch."

"Good," he nodded, "Now, if you will excuse me, I have to find my wife."

Coffee and teahouses had reached their heyday in the last century, and the ones that remained carried the burden of time and, while he remembered that Louisa had told him they would have luncheon at an upscale teahouse on Mayfair, he had believed it would be a relic.

The teahouse, simply named Porterhouse, was not what Julius had expected as he pushed open the heavy oak; the dark wood walls were gleaming under the afternoon sub and when he stepped inside, the interior had subtle but clean damask wallpaper and pristine windows looked onto the busy street out below.

The rich scent of coffee permeated the spacious room; serving boys in dark suits meandered the tables around with silver pots, refilling the cups of customers in the part of the room that had small, rounded tables for twos and threes. The other section that held trestle tables for large groups, were empty.

He spotted Louisa and the other two easily as they were nestled into a corner—and his heart fluttered with relief—away from a window and a door. Lousia's chair was back against the wall and she had open sight of all who came through the door.

He was proven right as she spotted him the moment, he crossed the median and she looked up as he arrived at the table, were a tiered plates of savories and sweets sat to the side.

"Ladies," he dipped his head, then bent to kiss Louisa on the cheek. "How was your day?"

Before he sat, he shifted the tray to the dead center because it was bothering him and pulled the seat closer to Louisa. Calling a serving boy over and requesting a cup of coffee, he asked, "Did you ladies find what you were looking for?"

"Oh yes, we did," Diana smiled. "I found the most diving set of gloves, shawl and a new set of fans to match my new wardrobe coming this season."

While completely unversed on what to say to that, Julius reasoned it was safe to simply nod and Rose chimed in. "So did I. I found a set for myself too plus a few paints and brushes, threads for needlework and some lovely buttons and other baubles that caught my fancy."

"You're painting again?" Julius smiled as his coffee was set before him. "That is wonderful."

While delighted to hear his sister was taking up her hobbies again, Louisa's unnatural silence pricked at his senses. He planned to ask her about it later when in the privacy of their bedchamber.

Diana was a chatterer and she kept on a monologue about things about what was going on in and about London, places she wanted to go and plays she wanted to see. Rose chimed in here and there, while Louisa was simply silent.

He could see the knot in her brows and knew that she was worried; but bothered about what? Lousia stomach gave an ignominious growl and she clapped a hand to her stomach in embarrassment.

Looking at the assortment of small mincemeat pies, biscuits and cheese, trifles, slivers and cake, fluffy sponge layered with jam and whipped cream her frowned; why was not eating? He hoped she had not fallen back into the misguided belief that she was too plump for him.

Without preamble, he filled a plate and passed it to her. She did not seem to notice. Calmly, he plucked a fork, cut a bit of the cake and held it to her lips. "Love?"

She blinked, clearly coming up for air under the sea of her thoughts. After her eyes flickered to the cake, she leaned in and ate it.

"That is so romantic," Diana sighed lovingly. "I wish my husband will do that for me one day."

Wordlessly, he handed her the utensil and she began to eat.

"Oh," Rose blushed. "I find myself needing a retiring room. Please, excuse me."

"I will go with you," Diana said happily.

With the two gone off, Julius turned to her and under the table, rested his hand on her thigh. "Would you mind telling me what is bothering you, and please do not tell me nothing is wrong because I know when something is upsetting you."

Before she answered the first part of his question, she asked the second part. "How do you know that?"

Gently, he lifted his hand and pressed two fingers into the tight knots in her brows. "This is why." He smoothed the knot out. "When you get worried you cannot hide it to save your life. Now, tell me, what is worrying you?"

She swallowed and shot a look in the direction the two girls had left for, then turned to Julius and dropped her voice. "Earlier, at the haberdashery, Rose nearly had a paroxysm," she said worriedly. "I do not know who she saw as I was looking away but she told me she had seen someone from her past.

"I—I cannot think of anyone in her life that could evoke such a strong reaction from her. She was a pale as a sheet, Julius and as much as I tried to get us a moment alone and ask her who it was, she would not tell me."

Instantly, the mild manner Julius had vanished and his back snapped up as agitation and worry frothed like ale inside his chest. Who could it have been?

Lousia sighed and shifted, causing her reticule to clatter to the floor. Plucking the seed-pearl studded bag up her fetched the coin purse, handkerchiefs, a bottle of smelling salts, and oddly a card from the floor. He flipped it over without looking at it.

"Calling card?" he asked.

She looked at it and frowned. "No. I never carried that with me. How did it get inside my bag?"

We're watching her.

The note's message was not vague, nor was it a hoax? Considering what Louisa had told him about Rose panicking, alarm rippled over his heart as he contemplated gathering all of them and rushing back to the carriage, securing them in the house and setting half of Bow Street to watch over them.

But no; he would not ruin their day. He would make sure Diana got home safe and keep Rose with them at the townhouse. It was more compact and gave less leeway for an intruder to invade.

Damn it; he had just promised the investigators that he would not draw his wartime habits into this life, but this was an exception. Gritting his teeth, he looked at the note again and the reality of the day began to unfold before him.

Rose had panicked because she had seen one of the men who had tried to abduct her. That was the only possible explanation, otherwise this note would not have been left in Lousia's bag.

"What happened after she lost her nerve?" he asked, "Think carefully."

"A child ran into me," she said. "I had not thought about it then but now—he must have dropped that into my bag. He looked so… put together, so clean, like a dignified child, maybe a lord's son."

"It is a normal tactic to dress up a pickpocket of a mudlark in in fine clothes and make them distract folk before something worse happens," Julius dropped the note on his lap and took a bracing drink of his cooling coffee.

"Will you ask Rose what she saw?" she asked.

"No," he said. ". I have already realized what happened. There is no point in upsetting her again."

Once again, he looked at the note. Was it a taunt or was it leading to another capture and blackmail this time?

We are watching her.

It clearly meant the perpetrators plan to attack again? If so, he would make sure they were all prepared. The tin cup nearly crumped under his fist; when they did attack again, this time, he would be there, and that in itself would make all the difference.