Page 60 of In the Midnight Hour

They still had another lead to follow. Mr. Killingsworth had a motive to kill Sir Radnor, and he’d been in the square that night. First thing tomorrow, they needed to determine what had happened when he’d left Mr. Huxley’s.

How had he spent the midnight hour? As horrible as it sounded, Hypatia hoped he’d been committing murder.

Chapter 14

North had been incredibly relieved that he’d been able to keep his promise to Hypatia last night. She’d slept in her bed. Their testimony at Marlborough Street had been straightforward and rather brief—after a very long wait to see the magistrate.

Drummond had assured Hypatia that he’d see her tomorrow, though he hadn’t set a time. Nevertheless, he’d ensured that, while Hypatia would rest her head on her own pillow, she would likely have difficulty sleeping.

Both North and Hypatia were eager to interview Mr. Killingsworth, so they’d planned to leave as early as a social call would allow. They hoped doing so meant they would be gone before Drummond arrived.

Luck was with them, for when North picked her up in his coach Friday morning, Drummond had not yet come. Hypatia had obtained Killingsworth’s address from Mr. Huxley that morning as soon as the bookshop had opened.

“Where are we going?” North asked as he met her on the pavement.

Hypatia looked to his coachman, Barlow, another retainer North had poached from his father. Barlow had been the head groom. “Number ten Russell Square in Bloomsbury.”

Barlow wasn’t much older than North, though he was far more seasoned as he’d fought in the Peninsular War. He nodded. “I know it.” He held the door whilst North helped Hypatia into the coach. Then he followed her inside.

“I hope you slept well,” North said as he settled into the coach.

“Not particularly,” Hypatia replied. She looked a bit pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes.

“Try not to worry.” He understood her anxiety—he had a bit of his own—and wanted to soothe her. If he could. “I was right yesterday—nothing bad came of our visit to Marlborough Street. Nothing bad will happen today either.”

She did not appear convinced. “I wish I shared your confidence.”

“We may shortly find Sir Radnor’s killer,” he said. “Then this will all be over.”

“I feel rather horrible hoping Mr. Killingsworth is the murderer.” She grimaced at him. “But I suppose it has to be someone.”

“Yes, and we know it isn’t you.”

They arrived in Russell Square a few minutes later at a modest terrace. At the door, North gave the butler his card and said they were there to speak with Mr. Killingsworth about a rare illuminated manuscript.

The butler invited them into the entrance hall whilst he went to speak with Mr. Killingsworth.

Hypatia pivoted toward him. “Clever explanation for our call.”

North lifted a shoulder with a faint smirk. “Where is the lie?”

She smiled, and he was delighted to see it.

A few moments later, the butler returned and showed them upstairs to the drawing room. Only, it looked more like a library. The walls were crowded with bookcases, and several books were on display, like the two illustrated manuscripts at Sir Radnor’s had been. Killingsworth appeared to be a more avid collector—or perhaps more successful.

A gentleman in his sixties entered, his gray hair combed back from his high forehead. He had a long face with a narrow chin and sharp blue eyes. “Good morning,” he said. “Are you a new collector, Lord Northwood? I’m not familiar with you in the book circles.”

“Potentially,” North responded with a smile. “Allow me to present Lady Cartwright. She has just inherited a large library with some valuable books. You know the previous owner—Sir Radnor Fieldstone.”

Killingsworth’s pleasant expression twisted into one of disgust. “I do not wish to speak ill of the dead, but Sir Radnor was a despicable cheat. The man was completely without integrity or honor.”

There was no mistaking Killingsworth’s loathing of the man.

“Mr. Huxley told us you and Sir Radnor had vied for a book several months ago—Le Roman de la Rose?” Hypatia said.

Killingsworth nodded, his lip curling. “It was supposed to be auctioned, which would have been fair. Then I would have certainly outbid him. However, he covertly convinced the heir to sell it to him outright.”

“Dastardly,” North said with a solemn nod. “Did Sir Radnor do that sort of thing often?”