Page 20

I t was odd entering the offices of the London Metropolitan Police with an escort, Lucy thought wryly as she allowed Will to open the door to the large stone edifice for her. Usually, she was accompanied only by her maid, and even then the other woman didn’t generally follow her inside.

She felt the eyes of the policemen of all rank who crowded the main room watching as Will, his hand pressed possessively over hers where it lay on his arm, escorted her through the wide entry hall. As they walked, Lucy felt the discomfort of their stares. Though whether it was because they’d somehow forgotten that she was several rungs higher than they were on the social ladder or because they read some silent message in Gilford’s manner or eyes, she couldn’t say.

As they neared the corridor leading to her cousin’s office, the young man who served as Eversham’s assistant hurried forward.

“Miss Penhallow.” Constable Stewart, a sturdy-looking Scot who had come to London in search of work several years ago, was a conscientious and quick-witted fellow who kept her cousin on schedule and did any paperwork the detective superintendent required. He’d also been the one to teach Lucy how to do basic clerical tasks like filing and sorting.

“Did I forget that you’d planned on coming in today?” Stewart asked with a worried look. “I had thought that Mr. Eversham said you were—”

Lucy shook her head before the constable could get any further in his question. “No, Mr. Stewart. This is an unplanned visit. I thought I’d bring Lord Gilford to see where I volunteer.”

Before she could introduce the two men, Gilford greeted Stewart, who offered the higher-ranking man a deep bow. “A pleasure to meet the man who keeps an eye on Lucy while she’s here.”

At the choice of words, Geordie Stewart, who had the typical red hair and pale skin of his fellow Scots, turned beet red. “Oh no, your lordship, I would never presume such a thing.” The burr of his accent sounded stronger now, perhaps because he was nervous?

“Of course that’s not what Lord Gilford means,” she said, shooting Will a dampening look. “He only meant that he wishes to thank you for assisting me. Isn’t that right, your lordship?”

At her words, Will said with no little show of apology, “Of course, Lucy. I am grateful to you, Stewart. This isn’t really the sort of place where I would wish her to spend time, but I trust Mr. Eversham, of course. And it calms me considerably to know that you are here also to keep watch over her.”

He glanced over to where a boy who could be no older than ten or twelve swore like a sailor who had been sailing the high seas for scores of years. Lucy winced at the child’s language, but she was somewhat inured to it in this environment now.

“I’m happy to be of service, your lordship,” Stewart responded to Will. “And as you say, Mr. Eversham is really the one who watches over her while she’s in our company.”

“I suppose we’d best go pay our respects to him, Mr. Stewart,” Lucy said, giving the younger man a sunny smile. “Is he free?”

At the question, Stewart nodded. “He’s been ensconced in there for an hour or more. I think he’s looking over some documents, but I feel sure he will welcome an interruption from you and his lordship, miss.”

With a pleased nod, Lucy held hard to Gilford’s arm and led him toward the corridor and the office door just beyond.

Knocking briskly, she stepped inside, followed by Will.

At their appearance in his doorway, Eversham’s eyes widened and he rose. “Lucy, my lord, what a pleasure to see you both.”

Moving forward, Lucy leaned up to kiss her cousin’s cheek, and when she’d done so, she pulled back to look him over.

“That was a look worthy of my wife,” Eversham said with a grin. “Though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, given how alike the two of you are in temperament.”

“Someone needs to keep you from working yourself into a decline,” Lucy said tartly. “Besides, I am not here today to rake you over the coals. Will and I are here because I need to search out a file I noticed a few weeks ago.”

Quickly, she told Eversham what Lord Cheswick had told them that morning, about both Hamilton’s financial troubles and the man’s plan to use Madame Celestina to manipulate Vera into marrying him.

At Lucy’s explanation, the veteran policeman gave a low whistle. “Every time I think I’ve seen every way in which one person can wrong another, some clever chap without a conscience finds another. I have to say, however, that using a clairvoyant to give Miss Blackwood a message from her dead mother is a new level of cruelty.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Lucy said with a shudder. “And the file I’m looking for is about her, I think.”

Quickly, she outlined the case she’d seen in the police files when she’d been organizing them a few weeks ago. “I am almost positive I saw the name Madame Celestina there. Though it was listed as only one of the names by which the lady involved was known.”

“You’re welcome to look for it,” Eversham said. “Oh, and by the way, we haven’t yet caught up with Fleetwood. He hasn’t been back to his rooms. Nor has his family seen him. We plan to keep looking, however. He might believe he cannot be prosecuted for his crime because of his rank, but that is wrong. We cannot simply have peers shooting peers willy-nilly.”

Lucy exchanged a look of amusement with Will, who said to Eversham, “I certainly would feel better if you were able to prevent it somehow.”

Leaving the detective superintendent to his report writing, Lucy led Will into the corridor just outside her cousin’s office where the older files she’d been working on were stored.

Will glanced up and down the hallway, his eyes alight with interest. “When you told me you did some work here, I imagined it to be something akin to the Royal Menagerie. Or at the very least like one of Lady Hathaway’s overcrowded routs.”

At the mention of the renowned hostess, who always invited far more guests than could comfortably fit in her home, Lucy smiled. “I believe I had something similar in mind as well. But it is really much tamer than one would imagine.”

As she spoke, Lucy ran her eyes up and down the rows of cabinets fitted with neat columns of small drawers. After a few false starts, where Lucy pulled open one drawer and flipped through the contents only to make a sound of frustration and close it, she finally gave a little cry. “Yes! I knew it was one of the three.”

Turning to wave a sheaf of papers at Will, she shut the drawer she’d found them in and turned to lead him toward a small, empty room with a table in it.

“Is this where they question suspects?” he asked, looking around the room that was almost painfully sparse. “I know that I would be more inclined to tell all my secrets if I were left here for any length of time.”

Spreading the pages out on the table in the middle of the chamber, Lucy took a seat in one of the hard chairs. She gestured to Will that he should take the other, and he curbed his gawking long enough to drag the other chair up beside hers and sit.

“This is a case from five years ago in which a traveling theater company was given a citation for remaining in the same location near Hampstead Heath for longer than allowed.”

Will frowned, and Lucy was afraid he’d make some dismissive remark about her playing at being a member of the police. But he just indicated that she should continue.

Breathing a mental sigh of relief, she said, “There was a woman in the troupe. At the time, she played mostly ingenue parts—Juliet, Rosalind, Beatrice—roles that are generally acted by young women.”

“But what does this have to do with Madame Celestina?” Will scanned the page but saw nothing until Lucy showed him.

“She also performed tarot readings and communicated with the dead,” Lucy said, pointing to where the constable had put this particular note.

“Using the name Madame Celestina,” Will said with excitement. “You, my dear, are utterly brilliant.”

Lucy felt a flush of pride at his words but had to tell him the rest. “Not only that,” she said, unable to keep her excitement from her voice, “but look at her actual name just a bit lower on the page.”

She watched as Will read the pertinent passage, surprise and shock in his eyes when he raised his head to look at her. “Is that who I think it is?”

“I believe she must be,” Lucy said with satisfaction. “Madame Celestina is Miss Christina Fleetwood, Sir Charles Fleetwood’s younger sister.”