Page 25 of Honor Unbound

I wouldn’t worry about it. I strode into my office and circled behind my desk. Southey made a circuit around the room, sniffing each corner and potted plant. “And what have you learned, Mr. Burton?”

The under-butler ducked under one of my hanging ferns and pulled out the guest chairs, waiting for Marie to sit before taking one for himself. “Nothing as interesting as Miss Murphy’s intelligence, unfortunately. For the price of two pints, one of Mr. Platt’s footmen was happy to speak with me. Or I should say, one of his father’s footmen. Mr. Platt lives at one of the viscount’s properties.”

I’d known that Platt and Mrs. Trent’s father was wealthy in his own right. I wondered how much he’d gained when he’d married his daughter off to the canning magnate. “What did this forthcoming footman have to say?”

“That Mr. Platt isn’t a man known for his virtue. Or constancy.” Burton tugged at the knot of his neckcloth. “He might have lost his temper when he’d learned about his brother-in-law’s infidelity but by the next day he was joining a revel with a friend of his, acting like he didn’t have a care in the world.”

“So not a strong motive for murder.” I steepled my fingers together. A particularly loud bang rattled the wall between my office and the kitchen. I glared at the wall.

“Not likely,” Burton agreed.

“He’s a right rude sot.” Marie frowned. “Speaks much too freely to his betters.Old biddy,” she muttered.

I bit back my grin. He wasn’t the only one with a loose tongue. “I found his lack of pretense refreshing. A person knows right where she stands with the man.” But did that lack of verbal control indicate he was impulsive in other ways? Violent ways?

Southey trotted to my side. He sat on his haunches and rested a paw on my knee, gazing at me with soulful brown eyes.

I managed to ignore him. “Who else can we talk to?” I knew there was one person I needed to question. I wasn’t looking forward to it. Mr. Cooke didn’t appreciate being questioned.

“I’ll speak to some of the men at the cannery.” Burton ran his hand up the back of his dark-gold hair. “See if they know anything about their employer’s doings.”

“We’llspeak to them.” Marie lifted her chin.

I clapped my hands together. “Good. I’m glad you’ve decided to work together. It will be much safer for both of you.”

Marie’s mouth dropped open in outrage. “That isn’t what I meant. We could speak to them separately.”

“But Lady Mary’s reasoning is sound all the same.” Burton cocked his head. “Besides, I wouldn’t mind you showing me that sweet shop? I still don’t fully know my way around London and would appreciate a friend to show me about.”

For some reason, Marie flushed. “I…well that is…”

My wall shook, and Southey growled.

“Oh for pity’s sake.” I pushed to standing. “Are they repairing the oven or tearing down my kitchen?” I didn’t wait for an answer and stomped out of my office to the next door. A cloud of dust obscured my view when I entered.

“What in heaven’s name is going on here?” I tried to block Southey from entering, but he hopped over my leg.

One of the workmen turned. A kerchief was tied around the lower half of his face, and he tugged it down. “There’s a crack all up your chimney. We have to take out some stones and replace them.”

“That chimney has been there for over a hundred years.” I actually didn’t know the age of the building but a hundred years sounded properly dramatic. “Why is it falling apart now?”

The man scratched his jaw. “Because it’s been there for a hundred years?”

I growled. If something was built well, age shouldn’t be a factor. And I didn’t even want to contemplate the bill for this. “How long until you’re finished?” We had a smaller kitchen off the Tea Room but we needed this oven back up and running.

The worker slapped a large stone file against his palm. “Two days?”

My stomach clenched. I would need to hire out to another kitchen. Another bill. Repairs to fire damage in my club last year had wiped out my operating profit, and I was just starting to run in the black again. “Are you certain the stones need to be replaced?”

The question was a mistake. The worker led me to the hole in the wall that led to the chimney and had me poke my head in the opening. He tried pointing out all the flaws in the stones, and I nodded my head knowingly even though it was too dark for me to see anything he described. “So you’re saying it’s necessary.”

“Only if you don’t want your cooks to choke on smoke.” He bounced that file again.

“Well, if….” My voice trailed off as the reddened flesh on his palm caught my attention. I grabbed his hand, peering at the crosshatch patterns imprinted on his skin.

“Ma’am?” He was too polite to tug his hand free.

“Your file.”