Bancroft picked up his pen and applied it to a clean sheet of paper.
Given the precarious state of the Roth purse, it was a lot of money for a losing bet, but if anyone prayed to the goddess of lost causes, it was Bancroft.
When Tobias reached the hallway outside his father’s study door, he wasn’t sure where to go. There were times when he confided in Imogen, but she was out with Evelina. He would have to figure this out on his own.
Or perhaps not quite.
He turned his steps toward his mother’s sitting-room. Once, she had ruled over the house every minute of every day. She still oversaw all the entertaining, but more and more she came to this small, quiet room with only her thoughts for company.
When he opened the door and peered inside, he nearly overlooked her. The soft gray of her dress blended into the muted tones of the walls and drapes. She was sitting on the sofa, holding a book, but staring out at the garden.
“Mother?” he said softly.
She turned, the sunlight silvering her wealth of golden hair. With the light behind her, she looked so much like Imogen it made him blink. “Yes?”
“May I sit with you a little?”
She motioned him to the other end of the sofa. “Problems with your father?”
Was that the only time he came to talk to her? The thought made him wince. “Yes, but I wanted to talk to you about something that’s been on my conscience.”
She furrowed her brow. “What’s that, Tobias?”
“The servant girl who died. Grace Child.”
“What about her?” Her eyes took on that perceptive sharpness he remembered from being a small and naughty boy. Back then, she had never assumed his guilt, but never ruled it out, either.
“I saw her just before she died. I’ve never spoken of it to the police.”
“Why not?”
“I had nothing to do with her death, I promise, but I was out doing something, well, a bit unwise.”
Her smile was wistful. “And if I can’t keep my son’s confidences, what kind of a mother am I?”
Tobias closed his eyes for a moment, realizing how badly he needed to hear those words. “Maybe you can help me understand what Grace said.”
Lady Bancroft set down her book, then reached over and grasped both his hands. The spring light fell around her gently, glinting off the stones in her wedding ring. “Tell me.”
Tobias thought carefully, his gaze on the ring. He hadn’t told Evelina everything. He hadn’t told anyone this part of her story. “I was coming home late and went to the side door. She was outside.”
His mother waited patiently while he sorted his thoughts for a moment more. “They’d locked the doors and she couldn’t get in. At first it seemed all she wanted was to get to her bed without Bigelow finding out she’d missed curfew. I didn’t mind. What was it to me if one of the maids was making merry? I liked the idea of doing her a good turn. But then, just before we went inside, she held me back, asking for a word.”
“What did she want?”
“She said she was in terrible trouble.” Tobias wet his lips. “At first I thought she meant she was, um, in a family way and needed money.”
His mother drew her brows together. “The talk below stairs says that was the case.”
A surge of nausea left him hot and prickling. Grace had been so afraid, and not just for herself, but for that unborn child. “Maybe. But that was not all that troubled her. She said—”
He stopped, distracted by his memory of her piquant features, bold and fragile at once.
He cleared his throat. “The long and the short of it was that she’d become mixed up in some sort of illegal business and wanted to get free of it. She thought it was only a matter of time before she was caught.”
His mother was starting to look alarmed. “What did you say to her?”
“I asked her what she wanted me to do. She seemed to think that I could find her a position someplace far away. I said I’d try. The Penners have a house in Yorkshire. Maybe she could have gone there. But by the next day, she was dead.”
His mother squeezed his hands and let them go. “Poor girl. That was very generous of you, but would never have worked out. We could never have recommended a servant who had obviously involved herself in something disreputable. But I see why you couldn’t tell any of that to Inspector Lestrade. It wouldn’t do to have it rumored that we had a criminal element in the house.”
Uncertainty crept over Tobias. His mother was clearly missing the point. “Grace was afraid that if I said anything, she would be dead for certain. I think she was afraid of someone in this house.”
He watched his mother’s face carefully. Bewilderment faded to consternation, and she shook her head. “Impossible.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“How can you say that?” she exclaimed.
“Who are we, Mother?” he snapped, hating the sharpness of his voice. “Do you recall the housemaid being electrocuted at our garden party? How many steps is it from torture to murder?”
“Tobias!” His mother’s eyes were wide and a little afraid. “Whatever put that thought in your mind?”
He had felt the fissures in his world widening under his feet even then. Perhaps Grace had seen them even before he did. “Father is guilty of something.”
“How can you say that?”
“I don’t know,” Tobias said dryly, wondering how the conversation had turned to his father. Then again, everything in their lives revolved around the man.
His mother’s face had gone white. He decided to let the subject of Grace drop and try a different tack. “What is the connection between father and Dr. Magnus and automatons? They both seem obsessed with them.”
“Automatons? What do you mean?”
“The ones we had in Vienna. The ones that were stolen.”
She sat back slowly, every movement carefully controlled. “Oh. Those.”
“What is so valuable about them?”
“Dr. Magnus helped him build them, long ago,” his mother said dully, avoiding the question. “It’s a part of your father’s life that he will never willingly revisit.”
“Why not?” Tobias have a harsh laugh. “Science is the one thing we have in common, and he won’t even talk about it.” Anger jammed in his throat, too thick to let out. He fell silent.
His mother looked stricken. “Some things should never be disturbed,” she whispered. “Whatever it was that happened came at that terrible time when your sisters were so ill.”
“A girl is dead. Two of our grooms are dead. A little discomfort is a small price to pay.”
His mother blinked rapidly, refusing to meet his eyes. “Tobias, stop this. For my sake, if not for your own.”
“Did he kill Grace Child?”
His mother looked up, her lips parted in shock. Guilt seared through him. He hadn’t meant to go this far. His mother was the last person he wanted to hurt. She bore too much of his father’s burden already. And yet he held his breath, waiting for the answer.
“I don’t know,” she said. The words held so little force, he could barely hear her.
“I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sure what for. Maybe everything, like the sacrificial scapegoat.
She drew herself up, folding her hands in her lap. She refused to look at him, but sat with the light gilding her hair and casting her features into sharply limned shadows. “What are you going to do?”
Tobias didn’t know. What would the future hold if Lord Bancroft were hauled off for murder? Or even if his
