Page 131 of The Marriage Method

Innes strode toward them. His face was set in tense lines. “Beg your pardon, my lord, but—”

“What is it, Innes?” Lord Amstead demanded impatiently.

Innes stopped in front of them. Perspiration dotted his brow. “An urgent matter has arisen that requires your immediate attention.”

“It will have to wait,” Lord Amstead replied. “I’m entertaining my guests, as you see. Mrs. Quincey and I—”

“It cannot wait, my lord,” Innes said.

Lord Amstead locked eyes with his butler for a fraught moment. Something seemed to pass between them.

“Very well,” Lord Amstead said abruptly. He smiled again, looking to Nell and Miles with an air of forced jovialness. “A host’s work is never done, is it? I might have known when I decided to give a shooting party that I’d be run off my feet. Another hazard of being without a wife.” He lifted Nell’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Until dinner, ma’am.” With that, he departed the gallery with Innes, leaving Nell and Miles staring after them.

“Something’s happened,” Miles said.

“Yes, but what?” Nell settled her hand back on her husband’s arm. Together, they continued down the length of the gallery.

“We’ll likely find out at dinner,” Miles said.

Imposing portraits of gentlemen loomed ahead. Nell had little interest in seeing them. It was Jane Fawn-Purvis’s likeness she’d hoped to view.

“Shall we sit?” Miles asked. The tall windows opposite the paintings were deeply set. Cushions lined the stone ledges, offering an inviting place to rest.

“If you don’t mind.” Nell’s leg had been paining her today. She expected Miles had noticed. The care with which he assisted her to the window embrasure confirmed her suspicions. He kept a supportive hand at her waist, not relinquishing his hold until she was comfortably settled on the cushioned seat.

“I shall be glad when this business is over,” he said, sinking down next to her. “I’ve had my fill of watching that blackguard handle you.”

“Handle me? Hardly. In any event, it’s all in a good cause.”

“We’ve learned nothing from him.”

“No,” she conceded. “But I did learn something from Lady Upshott today. She shared a bit of gossip about Jane Fawn-Purvis.”

Miles listened intently as she related everything the elderly lady had told her. “I heard much the same from Radford,” he said when she’d finished. “Almost verbatim.”

“You don’t believe it was the truth?”

“I believe that Radford thought it was true. That doesn’t make it so.”

“I came to the same conclusion with Lady Upshott. She had the details of Miss Fawn-Purvis’s elopement from Lord Amstead. There’s only his word that it happened at all.”

“Yet Miss Fawn-Purvis isn’t here. And hasn’t been since early March, apparently. Possibly from the exact day mentioned in Cowgill’s journal.”

“If it was Miss Fawn-Purvis’s disappearance he was referencing,” Nell said, “we must consider the possibility that something worse befell her than a ruined reputation. Something involving the railway depot, adulterated tea, and brothels.”

Miles frowned. “If that’s the case, Amstead would have to be far more ruthless than he appears.”

“He well could be,” Nell replied. “You never know what a man is truly capable of until he’s backed into a corner. If Amstead’s sister possessed some information that could be used against him—if she’d seen or heard something damaging—”

“It would have had to be damaging indeed for him to resort to such a dastardly plot.”

“Do you suppose she’s dead?” Nell asked.

“I think it’s a distinct possibility,” Miles said.

Nell suppressed a shiver. That would make it two deaths. One a sheltered young lady, and the other a gossip columnist who had had the misfortune of stumbling upon the mystery of her disappearance. Had Mrs. Pritchard and Silas killed them both? Or had Amstead or Innes stooped to getting their hands dirty?

“We’ll know more tomorrow,” Miles said. “I’ve laid the groundwork for us to strike out on our own.”