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That patience all but evaporated when Gage returned home that evening. He was in a rare fury, for which I could not blame him, though it unsettled me, as anger in any man tended to do.

“What do you mean they’re not going to do anything?” I asked as Gage stormed back and forth across the drawing room, where Trevor, Henry, and I had settled after dinner to await his return.

“It was just as Maclean predicted. There is no proof that Fletcher intends to target a church, and they have no desire to see ‘ridiculous rumors’ spread and potentially create panic.” It was clear he was quoting one of the officials.

“They also categorically refused to inform the public that the collapse at Picardy Place had not been accidental.”

“Fools!” Trevor proclaimed, speaking for all of us.

“They actually berated Sergeant Maclean for not having already located Matthew Fletcher and ordered him to do so immediately. Because that would resolve the matter.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and huffed. “As if we don’t know that. As if the sergeant hasn’t been trying to.” It was enough to make my temper spike.

“Maclean must have been livid,” Henry ventured.

“He wasn’t happy, that’s for sure,” Gage quipped.

“Then we’ll simply have to take the matter into our own hands.” Trevor’s brow had furrowed with determination. “ We can warn the churches.”

“Except we’ve been forbidden to tell them the truth about the Picardy Place collapse. And they’ve threatened to take legal action if we disobey.”

“But what can they really do to us?” I demanded. “When there are potentially lives hanging in the balance.”

Gage ceased his pacing and turned to look at me. “It’s that word potentially which troubles me most. For without proof, we may have little defense.”

“Then…” I spread my hands wide “…you want us to do nothing?”

“I didn’t say that. Only that we should exhaust all other possibilities before we do something that could land us in jail.”

“Such as?”

“There’s nothing precluding us from visiting the churches throughout the city and asking a few questions to see if anyone suspicious has been lurking around. From inspecting what is visible of their construction.”

“But you heard Jamieson,” Trevor protested. “There are more than fifty churches in Edinburgh.”

“Then we’ll have to try to narrow down the list.” Gage moved to sit in the vacant giltwood chair. “I take it Mr. Rimmer remains unconscious.”

“Yes,” I said.

He slumped deeper into the chair. “Then until he awakens, we’ll simply have to try to follow his tracks and see if we can determine whatever he discovered that provoked Fletcher into attacking him.”

“Speaking of that, Anderley had a suggestion.” I told him about Anderley’s proposal that he and Trevor return to the White Horse.

Gage nodded, perking up a bit. “It’s a good plan. Would you be willing to go tonight?” he asked Trevor.

“The sooner the better,” Trevor agreed.

“Then go inform Anderley. I’m sure Jeffers knows where he’s got to.”

“Perhaps you might take Shep as well,” I interjected, knowing my brother’s own valet was loyal. If nothing else, three men would be better than two should matters turn ugly.

Sensing my worry, Trevor nodded before heading off to find both valets.

Henry watched them go before asking his half brother, “What can I do?”

“Make a list of all the churches in the Edinburgh area. Presbyterian, Episcopal, United Secessionist, Methodist, Baptist, Unitarian, the entire lot.” He waved his hand in an all-encompassing gesture. “If they will worship on Sunday, include them.”

Henry agreed, departing as well. Which made the next recommendation I was about to make a little less awkward.

“I hesitate to propose this…” I paused when Gage shifted his hand which had cradled his forehead so that he could better see me. “But sooner or later we’re going to run out of time and…”

“You want to ask Kincaid for help.”

His calm tone of voice surprised me, but I knew not to mistake it for acceptance. “Yes.”

He glowered for a moment at the rug and then exhaled a long breath.

“I suppose we don’t have any choice. Kincaid does have an admirable system of informants throughout the city.

If anyone can locate Fletcher, it’s probably him.

Or at least he might be able to discover which churches he’s been lurking about, for Fletcher would have to do reconnaissance as he selects his target.

” His gaze shifted to me. “But how will you contact him?”

“One of the street lads who run messages will know how to find him,” I replied, rising to go to the writing desk in the corner before my husband changed his mind.

I spared a moment to worry that Bonnie Brock would misconstrue my message, but I would simply have to make the severity of the matter as plain as possible.

After all, the populace he looked after in Old Town was in just as much danger of being harmed as the wealthier denizens of Edinburgh in New Town if Mr. Fletcher’s plan was carried out to fruition.

It served a number of his interests to stop him.

That should be enough to keep him focused on the danger.

· · ·

Three days passed with little development.

Despite the police and Bonnie Brock’s informants scouring the city for Mr. Fletcher, he remained undetected.

It was enough to make me wonder if he actually had left Edinburgh, if we were searching for a man who was long gone.

But the tightness in my chest and the sense of dread did not ease.

He might have gone, but he would be back.

I didn’t want to be so certain of it, but I was.

None of Fletcher’s former colleagues or the staff at the White Horse had been able to tell us anything we didn’t already know.

The clergy at the churches we’d been able to visit had proved equally unhelpful, and in some cases more suspicious of us for asking questions.

It was beyond frustrating, particularly when a simple explanation of the truth by the authorities might have loosened their lips considerably.

We had to content ourselves with issuing a general word of caution.

We’d spent hours debating one church over another as the potential target, trying to consider the matter from Fletcher’s perspective, but it was difficult to know which criteria he might have weighed higher than another.

Certainly, ease and accessibility must have played a factor, but would they rate highest?

What about the denomination? Would he target one over another?

What about the social class of the majority of the congregants?

A church with more wealthy and powerful attendees might have a greater impact on those who could effect change most easily, but a large lower-class congregation would inspire more outrage, which could prove equally effective if the newspapers smelled fresh ink.

Would the church have some connection to Lord Eldin, or would he believe that was too obvious?

Would he target a roof, a galley, a floor?

Which buildings contained these likely targets?

When did he intend to complete the sabotage?

Was it already done and merely waiting for the weight of Sunday’s Easter worshipers to bring it crashing down?

We didn’t have the answers to any of these questions, and time was almost out.

Good Friday eve, Gage, Trevor, Henry, and I were all seated once again in our drawing room, our moods as bleak and solemn as any believer’s might have been upon marking the remembrance of Jesus’s crucifixion, except ours was also troubled by a more immediate threat.

I felt exhausted from debating possibilities and had nearly run dry of hope of foiling Fletcher.

I could tell the others felt much the same.

I’d even begun to turn my prayers toward begging the Lord for events to prove me wrong.

For Fletcher to not have plans to sabotage a church.

Then Jeffers appeared in the doorway. I was instantly forewarned to some development by the alertness of his posture. “My lady, you have a visitor.”

This was not precisely what I’d been expecting, rather wishing Mr. Rimmer had woken instead, but I soon rallied to this prospect, for I deduced who it was. I turned to Gage, seeing that he’d guessed as well.

“Show him up,” Gage surprised me by directing Jeffers.

I knew how he felt about Bonnie Brock being in our home, but I supposed it was rather ridiculous to all troop downstairs to the garden just to hear what he’d come to say.

Besides, the greater number of people present might dissuade Bonnie Brock from tweaking Gage’s nose and behaving inappropriately.

I should have known better.

“No’ goin’ tae send for tea,” he mocked after Jeffers announced him and turned to depart.

If he’d hoped to ruffle our butler’s feathers, he was going to be sorely disappointed. In fact, if it had not been below his dignity, I suspect Jeffers would have turned and cast him a withering glare.

“I thought something stronger would be more to your taste,” I retorted crisply, annoyed by the taunt and anxious to move past his japes and gibes to hear what he’d actually come to say.

I pushed to my feet to move toward the sideboard, hoping that would hurry the discussion along, when he stopped me.

“Nay. I’ll say what I’ve come to say and then I’ll go.”

I halted abruptly, turning to him in surprise.

“I dinna want tae be the cause o’ more anxiety.”

The look in his eyes was soft with concern, and I realized I hadn’t done a very good job of hiding my impatience.

Neither did Gage when he cleared his throat pointedly, pulling Bonnie Brock’s gaze away from mine. “Go on.”

Bonnie Brock’s brow ruffled with annoyance, but then smoothed as he turned back to me. “I havena found Fletcher,” he pronounced solemnly.

My shoulders slumped as I sank back down on the sofa.

“But that’s tellin’ in and o’ itself.”