“I never should have let you keep the ledger here. I should have taken it to my house.”
“How do you know whoever it was didn’t search your house first?”
“I don’t know, and now I have reason to believe I did not misplace my appointment book after all and someone has been to my house as well. Maybe looking for both the ledger and the appointment book.
“I will do a thorough check of my house when I return tonight. However, I can’t risk you getting hurt. I will ask Stevens to summon your father, and I will tell him everything.”
“No! He will probably confine me to my room for the rest of the year.”
“Amy.” He viewed her with raised brows. “This has gone on long enough. This is my problem, not yours. Harding was my man of business. I am the one charged with his murder.”
She pulled away and rested her hands on her hips. “I thought we were partners.”
“We are. Or I should say we were. Things have changed. I should have stopped this when we were shot at.”
She plopped onto the sofa. “I feel like we’re so close.”
He joined her. “I’ve been feeling for a while now that there is something right in front of me that I should be seeing, but I’m not.” He pounded his fist on his thigh. “The problem is, there are several people who have stated that they were either very happy that Harding is dead or would have killed him, given the chance.”
“People say those things, but rarely do they follow through. Whoever did this was able to perform a second murder as well. We’re looking for someone who not only had a reason to kill him but the temperament to actually do it. Which I can’t help but think leaves out Miss Gertrude, I’m sure.”
“No one is left out until this is over.”
“But she came to me so distressed that she received that letter.”
William stood. “I will not speak with your father tonight, but you must promise me you will go nowhere outside this house alone. Preferably, if you do go somewhere, you will go with me.”
“Actually, I could use a day to work on my book.”
“Good. Stay in tomorrow. If you need to go anywhere, send me a missive. Either I will be at home working on my finances or my butler will know where I am to send word.”
The next day William pulled out the bottom drawer of his desk, still searching for his appointment book, and groaned. The drawer was piled high with discarded newspapers, loose papers that he had thought at one time were important, and receipts that should have been filed away. No wonder his finances were a mess. He really needed to be more organized. Depending on his man of business had landed him in a dangerous spot.
He pulled out the stack and began to go through them, placing them in piles: some to be burned, some to be saved, and some to be given to his new man of business.
“William, I am taking a short trip into town, so I will be using the carriage. Have you need of it?” His mother entered the room, full of life and enthusiasm as usual.
“No. I plan to organize myself this morning. If I decide to go out this afternoon, I can take my horse, so keep the carriage for as long as you need it.”
She stared at his desk. “Oh my, you do have quite a pile there. When was the last time you sorted through that?”
“Too long, to be sure.”
He placed an old, folded newspaper on the desk, and it caught his mother’s eye.
She picked it up. “Oh, I loved this play.” Her eyes moved back and forth as she read the advert for a Drury Lane theater in London. “I saw it with your father many years ago.” She hugged the newspaper to her chest.
“What play is that?” She seemed to want to talk about it, and he could certainly give her a few minutes of his time.
“Othello. It was well performed when your father and I saw it. However, years later I saw the play again with your sister before she moved to France. Iago in that performance was played by Patrick Whitney, one of the best actors ever.”
William’s head snapped up, and his hand stilled as he was reaching for a paper. “Did you say Patrick Whitney?”
“Yes. A very well-known actor. First in Dublin and then in London. However, he disappeared off the stage a few years ago.”
William told himself to calm down. Patrick Whitney was not an unusual name.
“Mother, what did Patrick Whitney look like?”
She thought for a minute and then described his Patrick Whitney perfectly.
“And you say he no longer appears on the stage?”
“No. Not that I’ve heard. I still visited the theater quite a bit when I lived in London, but he hasn’t done a play for at least two years that I know of. I wonder what happened to him?”
William sat and let out a huge breath. “I think he is right here in Bath.”
“Indeed? Is he still acting? I would love to see him in a play once again. He had such a talent for bringing his character to life.”
William studied his hands for a minute, his mind in a whirl, then looked up at his mother. “He may very well be acting again. Yes, perhaps he is, but not on the stage.” He stood and walked around the desk. “If you will excuse me, Mother, I think I will take that ride now instead of later. Enjoy your shopping trip.”
“Wait! What about this stack of papers?”
He waved as he left the room. “I will deal with them later.”
CHAPTER 30
Amy lifted Persephone and stared at her very rounded body.
