Page 85 of Honor Unbound

Cooke snorted. He ran his fingers through his steel-gray hair. “What is convenient for you at the time tends to land yourself in a heap of trouble. Despite two dead bodies, an attack on your maid, and one on yourself, I assume you are continuing in your folly?”

I narrowed my eyes. “How did you know about Marie?”

“There isn’t much that happens in London that I do not know about,” Cooke said.

That I believed.

“What happened to your maid?” Ryder’s forehead furrowed.

Cooke continued as though Ryder hadn’t spoken. “It isn’t your duty to discover who killed Trent and his manager. Leave it to the magistrate.”

“On that you and I agree,” Ryder said.

I didn’t think I liked it when the two of them agreed. “I’m glad I’m useful for something, even if it is only bringing the two of you into concordance,” I said sarcastically. My gaze bounced from one man to the other. One all dark—dark hair, dark clothes, dark employment. The other clad in tan and cream, his hair a mix of blond, gray, and white. One had the body of a fighter, theother a scholar. I wouldn’t say Mr. Ryder’s calling was on the side of angels. He was much too irritating for that, but on the whole I would say he was a good sort of man.

I leaned forward. “Since you both have felt free to question my decisions, might I ask about your relationship? How did two such disparate men ever become acquainted to begin with?”

Cooke tapped his thumb on the armrest.

Ryder stared into his tea. Finally, he said, “We weren’t so different when we were young.”

Which didn’t really tell me anything at all, but I knew I wouldn’t get more. The rift between Cooke and Ryder wasn’t my concern, I told myself. I turned my attention to what was. “Since you are here, have you heard of Mr. Platt being in trouble for owing someone money? Or any business deals he was in that might have gone bad?” The way the attorney, Mr. Plummer, had become tight-lipped when I’d asked about Platt had made me curious.

Cooke leaned forward, his black wool coat stretching across his wide shoulders. He plucked up a bit of cheese from the tea tray. “It has already been determined Platt couldn’t have been the one to commandeer the hackney and try to run you down. He was surrounded by witnesses in my hell.”

“Perhaps that incident is unrelated to the murders.” I pushed my spectacles up my nose. “Perhaps it was some young buck who stole the hackney on a dare and lost control.”

Cooke’s lips thinned. “Perhaps.” He leaned back, stretching his legs. “As to young Mr. Platt, he is involved in no business to my knowledge. He’s the typical son of a peer who expects everything to be given to him. That’s what makes him a worthless card player, and an even more worthless man.”

“And yet you provide him a platform for his vice.” Ryder arched an eyebrow. “How much worth does that give you as a man?”

“Quite a bit, actually.” Cooke’s nostrils flared. “You should see my bank balance.”

I held up a hand. “Has Platt run up large debts?”

Cooke’s steely gaze turned to me. “Not excessive for his crowd.” He lifted one shoulder. “Though I do hear his father has stopped being so forgiving of his son’s liabilities.”

I sank back, linking my fingers together over my abdomen. I imagined it would be hard, walking the line between supplying your child with everything he needed and overindulging him to the point of souring his character.

Either way, I felt badly for Platt’s parents. I believed at least one of their children to be involved in these killings. No amount of overindulgence would make a parent responsible for murders committed by the child.

Southey pawed at my boot, whining softly. If I’d been alone, I might have joined in with him. This investigation felt hopeless, like I was rowing toward a shore that never got closer.

I didn’t like the feeling. It wasn’t one to which I was accustomed. And it was a feeling to which I needn’t succumb. I scooted my foot out from under Southey and stood. “Thank you gentlemen, for calling, but I really must be getting back to work.”

I would find this killer. He might be ruthless, but I could be relentless. I’d never been beautiful, never had children to take pride in, but I’d had a mind unmatched by most of my acquaintance.

It was time to start using it.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Lady Mary

Ernest helped medown the carriage steps. “And Harry said the new model has independent axles to make for a smoother ride and weighs less for when we want to get somewhere quick.”

I exhaled sharply. The entire drive home from The Minerva Club, my driver had been trying to convince me to purchase a new coach rather than repair the current one, shouting down at me to look out the window when a nicer carriage rolled past. “This one has character,” I reminded him.

“If character is another word for termites.” Ernest plucked Southey from the carriage and tucked him under his arm. “How long have you had this? Fifteen? Twenty years?”