Sebastian and Hero entered the room, displaying a pale and grief-ravaged face. `My apologies for coming to you in all my dirt,' he said, bowing. `I've just ridden in from Kent.'
`Please, sit down, Mr. Tennyson,' said Hero gently.
`I can't tell you how sorry we are for your loss.'
He nodded and swallowed hard, as if temporarily bereft of speech.
`Thank you. I can't stay. I'm on my way up to Enfield to hire some men to help extend the search for the children into the woods and surrounding countryside. But I heard from one of the magistrates at Bow Street that you've offered to do what you can to help with the investigation, so I've come to thank you and, I must confess, in the hopes that you might have found something anything at all that might make sense of what has happened.' He fixed Sebastian with a look of desperation that was painful to see.
Sebastian went to pour brandy into two glasses. `Sit down,' he said in the voice that had once commanded soldiers into battle. `It will be getting dark soon. If you'll take my advice, you'll go home, rest, and give some thought as to where and how your energies can be most efficiently exerted in the morning.'
Tennyson sank into a chair beside the empty hearth and swiped a shaky hand over his face. `I suppose you're right. It's just...' He paused to blow out a harsh breath. `It feels so damnably wrong - begging your pardon, Lady Devlin - not to be doing something. I blame myself. I should have insisted Gabrielle and the boys come with me to Kent.'
`From what I know of Gabrielle,' said Hero, taking the chair opposite him, `I'm not convinced you would have succeeded even if you had tried to insist.'
Gabrielle's brother gave a ghost of a smile. `You may be right. Not even our father could compel Gabrielle to do something she didn't wish to do. She was always far more headstrong than I, despite being four years my junior.'
`There were only the two of you?' asked Sebastian.
Tennyson nodded. `We had several younger brothers who died when we were children. Gabrielle was quite close to them and took their deaths hard. I've often wondered if it wasn't one of the reasons she was so eager to have George and Alfred come stay with her this summer.'
Sebastian handed him the brandy. `Would you say you and your sister were close?'
`I would have said so, yes.'
`You don't sound so certain.'
Tennyson stared down at the glass in his hand. `Gabrielle was always a very private person. Lately I've had the sense that our lives were diverging. But I suppose that's inevitable.'
Sebastian went to stand beside the cold hearth, one arm resting along the mantel. `Do you know if she had any romantic connections?'
`Gabrielle?' Tennyson shook his head. `No. She's never had any interest in marriage. I remember once when I was up at Cambridge and very full of myself, I warned her that if she didn't get her nose out of books no man would ever want to marry her. She laughed and said that suited her just fine that a husband would only get in the way of her studies.'
`So you wouldn't happen to know the name of a French lieutenant she had befriended?'
`A Frenchman? You mean an émigré?'
`No. I mean a paroled French officer. She never mentioned such a man?'
Tennyson stared at him blankly. `Good heavens. No. Are you suggesting she was somehow involved with this person?'
Sebastian took a slow sip of his own brandy. `I don't know.'
`There must be some mistake.'
`That's very possible.'
Tennyson scrubbed a hand over his eyes and down his face. When he looked up, his features were contorted with agony. `Who could do something like this? To kill a woman and two children...'
`Your young cousins may still be alive,' said Sebastian. `We don't know yet.'
Tennyson nodded, his entire upper body rocking back and forth with the motion. `Yes, yes; I keep trying to cling to that, but...' He raised his glass to drink, his hand shaking badly, and Sebastian thought that the man looked stretched to the breaking point.
`Can you think of anyone who might have wished either your sister or the children harm?'
`No. Why would anyone want to hurt a woman like Gabrielle or two little boys?'
`Some enemy of the boys' father, perhaps?'
Tennyson considered this, then shook his head. `My cousin is a simple clergyman in Lincolnshire. I'd be surprised if he knows anyone in London.'
Hero said, `Would you mind if I were to have a look at Gabrielle's research materials, on the off chance there might be some connection between her death and her work at Camlet Moat? I could come to the Adelphi myself in the morning.'
He frowned, as if the possible relevance of his sister's scholarship to her death escaped him. `Of course; if you wish. I'll be leaving for Enfield at first light, but I'll direct the servants to provide you with any assistance you may require. You can box it all up and simply take it, if that would help.'
`It would, yes. Thank you.'
Tennyson set aside his glass and rose to his feet with a bow.
`You have both been most kind. Please don't bother ringing; I can see myself out.'
`I'll walk down with you,' said Sebastian, aware of Hero's narrowed gaze following them as they left the room.
`It occurs to me there may be something else you felt reluctant to mention in front of Lady Devlin,' Sebastian said as they descended the stairs.
Tennyson looked vaguely confused. `No, nothing.'
`Any possibility someone could be seeking to hurt you by striking at those you love?'
`I can't think of anyone,' he said slowly as they reached the ground hall. `Although in my profession one never...' He broke off, his eyes widening. `Merciful heavens. Emily.'
`Emily?' said Sebastian.
A faint suggestion of color touched the barrister's pale cheeks. `Miss Emily Goodwin, the daughter of one of my colleagues. She has recently done me the honor of agreeing to become my wife, although the death of her paternal grandmother has perforce delayed the formal announcement of our betrothal.'
`You may count on my discretion.'
`Yes, but do you think she could be in danger?'
`I see no reason to alarm her unnecessarily, especially given that the particulars of your betrothal are not known.' Sebastian nodded to Morey, who opened the front door. `But it might be a good idea to suggest that she take care.'
`I will, yes; thank you.'
Sebastian stood in the open doorway and watched the man hurry away into the hot night. Then he went back upstairs to his wife.
`And what precisely was that about?' she asked, one eyebrow raised, as he walked into the room.
Sebastian found himself smiling. `I thought there might be something he was reluctant to discuss in front of such a delicate lady as yourself.'
`Really. And was there?'
`No. Only that it seems he's formed an attachment to some Miss Goodwin, the daughter of one of his colleagues, and now he's hysterical with the fear that his sister's killer might strike against her next. I suspect it's a fear shared by virtually every father, husband, and brother out there.'
`You think it's possible Gabrielle's death could have something to do with her brother's legal affairs?'
`At this point, almost anything seems possible.'
Tom squinted down at Hero's map, his lips pursing as he traced the dotted line of London's old Roman walls, which she had superimposed on her sketch of the city's modern streets.
`Can you follow it?' asked Sebastian, watching him. He knew that someone at some point had taught Tom to read, before the death of the boy's father had driven the family into desperation.
`Aye. I think maybe I even know the place yer lookin for. There's a tavern called the Black Devil about ere...'
