Page 59 of Honor Unbound

The scrabble of claws and the ringing of a bell indicated Southey had finished his treat and decided not to follow Lady Mary’s instruction. Brett hurriedly escorted the women outside and shut the door before the dog could escape. A forlorn whine sounded behind the wood.

Brett gave Ernest the direction for their next stop before helping the ladies inside the carriage. Instead of riding atop, he followed, seating himself next to Marie. “Why do you think Hicks was killed?”

Lady Mary pushed her spectacles up her nose. “I think that depends on why Trent was killed. If Trent was murdered because his wife wanted to be free of him to remarry, or retaliation for Trent’s own affair, Hicks could only have been killed because he had evidence against the perpetrator. If Trent was killed because of something to do with his business, Hicks as his manager might have posed the same problem to the killer.”

“Either way, Hicks knew something he oughtn’t.” Marie shifted, her thigh pressing against his. “This makes me think Trent’s death didn’t have anything to do with either his affair or his wife’s. It must have something to do with that factory.”

“Must is too definitive a word,” Lady Mary said but left it at that.

They rode in silence the rest of the way. Brett was content just to sit next to Marie, his hand brushing against hers on the seat at the carriage rocked.

When they reached Mrs. Shaw’s home, they learned that Mrs. Trent hadn’t moved out yet, but she was not at home. “Her brother took her and her daughter to the British Museum,” the butler informed them, a pained expression on his face. “Those poor marbles,” he muttered as he shut the door.

“The British Museum?” Marie rolled up on her toes. “I’ve never been.”

“That is about to be remedied.” Lady Mary climbed back into the carriage.

Brett placed himself next to Marie again. He hadn’t known she had an interest in antiquities and natural history. After this was over, he would make a point to explore London’s museums with her. His body hummed. There was so much for them to see and do. She made him feel like life was only beginning. He was now more eager than ever to resolve what happened to Mr. Trent.

The British Museum was housed in the Old Montagu House, a building that had seen better days. But what was contained within more than made up for the dilapidated exterior. Marie carefully held the admittance ticket she’d been given, her name inscribed at the top. “The museum closes soon. We don’t have much time.”

Lady Mary shoved her ticket into her reticule while examining the space. “Should we go in different directions to look for Mrs. Trent? We’ll cover more ground.”

The attack on Marie still weighed too heavily on Brett’s mind. “No, we’ll stay together. That butler mentioned marbles.”

Lady Mary snorted. “The whole place is littered with marbles, but he probably meant the newest addition to the museum. Follow me.”

She led them around a nature exhibit, a room full of old manuscripts, to an annex off the back of the building.

Marie’s soft gasp mirrored Brett’s own awe. The Elgin Marbles had been acquired by the museum a couple years past. Brett had seen some drawings in the paper when they’d first been installed, but the reality far outstripped the sketched images. Intricately carved friezes lined the walls of the room. At the far end stood several freestanding statues of men and women in ancient Greek garb. Only a few of them still had their heads attached, but that didn’t diminish their beauty.

“George!” A woman called near the far side of the room. “Get her, will you?”

George Platt swooped down on a little girl before she could climb on one of the friezes. He turned her over to her mother. “Perhaps we could put a lead on this one. Pierce’s tippet would do.”

Mrs. Trent turned an exasperated look on her brother before she caught sight of them. “Oh. Lady Mary. How unexpected to see you here.”

Brett, Marie, and Lady Mary approached the group. Mrs. Trent was joined not only by her brother, but his friend Mr. Randall, as well.

Polite greetings were made all around.

Mrs. Trent nodded to a sculpture. “The marbles are really quite extraordinary, aren’t they?” Her daughter started to dart off, and Mrs. Trent tugged her back to her side.

Mr. Randall tucked the ends of his long, gauzy tippet under his coat, casting a warning glance at Platt and the little girl. “Lord Elgin would have done better to have left them where he found them. We have enough common art that appeals to the masses already.Ars ad populum.” He sighed.

Brett looked at the folds carved into the stone of one of the figure’s gowns. The sense of movement the skill produced hardly seemed common, but he wasn’t an art expert.

Marie paced next to one of the friezes. “I think they’re wonderful.”

“Well, if a lady’s companion thinks they’re fine, then Lord Elgin must have made the right decision to bring them here,” Randall said.

Brett’s shoulders rose an inch. He couldn’t be positive, but it felt like there was an insult to Marie lying somewhere in his words.

Lady Mary stepped aside for a couple who wanted a closer look at a sculpture. “I’m not here to discuss art. Have you heard about Mr. Hicks?”

“Fenton Hicks?” Mrs. Trent rubbed her upturned nose.

“Of course, Fenton Hicks.” Lady Mary rapped the tip of her walking stick on the floor. “He’s been murdered, just like your husband.”