'If we travelled post we could, but the horses couldn't take a double journey without a rest overnight.' The thought of spending a night at an inn in her company was almost too much for his control. 'However, although we're well-breeched at present I don't think it's sensible to waste money on posting when we can drive. The price of an overnight stay would be a fraction of the posting costs.'

  'In which case we must find somewhere pleasant to stay the night. I suppose we should take your valet and my maid if we wish to appear well-to-do.'

  'I've no wish to share the carriage with either of them. Can't you manage without someone to dress you just for one night?'

  Instead of flying into the boughs at his comment she laughed. 'I might be high in the instep but I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself if needs be. More to the point, sir, will you be able to maintain the facade of a gentleman for so long without blaspheming or cursing?'

  This conversation had continued long enough – they were becoming intimate and this wasn't a good idea. In a few weeks he must return to his low existence and she to her stately home. He would do nothing to jeopardise her good name however much he might wish to.

  'We had better go in, my love, you have yet to inform the housekeeper we're having dinner guests this evening. Also, it's possible we might have a pile of cards to view in response to the ones you sent out this morning to our neighbours.'

  He stood up and offered his hand to help her to her feet but she shook her head and rose gracefully. She fussed with her skirts which looked perfectly fine to him, and then waited, tapping her foot, so he was obliged to put his arm out for her to use.

  He decided that tonight he would play the loving husband in front of their guests as she would be unable to reprimand him without revealing their deception. He glanced down at her glorious golden hair and wondered what it would be like to run his fingers through it. He pushed the thought away – frustration and madness lay in that direction.

  *

  Sergeant Ross – no he must be Samuel to her now – escorted her into the house and then strode off muttering something about urgent business in the study. Foster handed her a silver salver upon which was a satisfactory pile of cards. When she asked him to inform Cook and the housekeeper of their evening plans, he nodded.

  'It's going to be a warm evening, madam, would you care to dine on the terrace?'

  'Eat outside? I have never done so in the evening but I think the idea quite delightful.'

  She took the cards to the far end of the drawing room and found herself a comfortable seat out of the sunlight, but in a position where the cool breeze from the garden reached her. The footman had delivered a dozen cards and all but one of the recipients had responded.

  Three of the cards said they would be receiving visitors that afternoon, four said no more than a short welcome to the area and the others said they would be calling in to introduce themselves today. If she was to change before the first of these people arrived, she had better return to her rooms immediately. Unfortunately, the missing response was from Mrs Forsyth.

  In the vestibule she waylaid a footman and told him there would be morning callers, that tea and biscuits would be required and both parlourmaids would be needed to serve.

  The study door was ajar and she knocked softly and then pushed it open. Samuel was pacing the carpet, his expression one she had not seen before. Surely he could not be flustered at the thought of standing host at his first dinner party?

  'I'm sorry to intrude, but I've come to warn you we will be having a succession of visitors this very afternoon. I doubt that any gentlemen will come, but it might be as well for you to put in a brief appearance just in case there's someone you can discreetly question.'

  'What about Mrs Forsyth?' She shook her head and explained there had been no response from them. 'Dammit! I'll find the man who took the card and see if I can discover any more about the family. If they're cronies of Stanton then they might not be pleasant people.'

  'I think it unlikely that Mrs Forsyth will be involved in anything nefarious. Hopefully, she will send around her card later today.'

  He tugged at his cravat which became unravelled and gave him a rakish air. 'Do I have to change my raiment or will I do as I am?'

  'I was about to say that you would pass muster, but now you will have to return to your rooms and get your valet to replace your neckcloth. I'll change my gown – it's what ladies do in the afternoon.'

  'We agreed we wouldn't change for dinner, did we not?'

  'I fear you have a lot to learn about the habits of a gentle woman. We have morning gowns, promenade gowns, gowns for driving, dancing and taking tea. Oh, let's not forget about evening gowns and ball gowns.'

  'You're bamming me – no sane person could possibly require so many outfits in the day.'

  'It is required of one, if one moves in the ton.' His expression was one of bewilderment and she took pity on him. 'Even when I had my season five years ago, I never changed my ensemble above four times. It is so much easier for a gentleman – they have riding clothes, every day garments and evening clothes. Ladies are not expected to do much more than look decorative and run the house which is why, I'm sure, many of them spend so much time on their wardrobes.' She turned to go but as she did so someone knocked on the front door.

  Not wishing to be seen lurking in the corridor, she stepped back into the study, but remained by the open door so she could overhear what was said. There was no exchange of words and the front door closed.

  Foster hurried towards her with a note in his hand – he had forgotten to put it on the salver. 'This was delivered for you, madam.'

  Emma took the proffered paper and broke the seal.

  Dear Mrs Ashfield

  I apologise for not responding sooner to your card, but I am presently indisposed. I am not receiving visitors at the moment.

  Yours sincerely

  Mrs Forsyth

  'Well, that explains why we didn't hear before this. If Mrs Forsyth is unwell perhaps I might call in a day or two and see if I can offer any assistance.'

  Instead of pulling the bell-strap Samuel stepped out into the corridor and yelled for the butler to come at once. It was certainly quicker to do this, but wasn't the action of a gentleman. He had a disturbing tendency to shout but no doubt she would become accustomed to it in time.

  Foster could be heard thundering towards them and, despite her disapproval she couldn't prevent her smile.

  'Your unorthodox method has certainly produced the desired results, Samuel.'

  He grinned and threw open the door just as the butler arrived. 'Come in, man, I have questions for you. What do you know about Mr and Mrs Forsyth who reside over the road?'

  'I thought I recognised the messenger, sir. Mr Forsyth is a businessman and is away a lot of the time. Mrs Forsyth is said to be an invalid.' He offered no further information but Samuel wasn't satisfied with his answer.

  'You're not telling me the whole. Out with it, if you please.'

  'What I am about to tell you, Mr Ashfield, I cannot substantiate. It's merely hearsay. Mr Forsyth is said to be a man of violent temper and his staff rarely stay above a week or two. They haven't been in the neighbourhood more than a few months.'

  When the butler retreated Emma turned to Samuel. 'From his tone one would think Mr and Mrs Forsyth weren't welcome around here. Your man Collins must make enquiries downstairs for I'm sure there's more to know about that family.'

  'It's a damn shame you cannot visit today, we might have been able to attend a party on their coat-tails. Never mind, I have great hopes we'll do better with Mr and Mrs Waters when they come this evening.'

  'That's a capital idea. What time are we expecting the influx of visitors? I intend to make myself scarce unless you send for me. I'd rather have my teeth pulled than drink a dish of tea with a lot of simpering young ladies and their doting mamas.'

  After a succession of callers, none of whom brought a gentleman with them, Emma was relieved to have the drawing room to herself again. She had discovered nothing of any import, apart from the pertinent fact that not one of the ladies had visited Mrs Forsyth. They had all received the same reply to their initial overture. Either Mrs Forsyth was a permanent invalid or she didn't wish to meet the ladies of the neighbourhood.

  Fortunately, the visitors had come early in the afternoon so she could now make some calls herself. No one had brought a maid with them and they had all come on foot so she thought she would do the same. However, before she left, she would update Samuel on what little she'd discovered.

  He was lurking in the study pretending to read the newspaper. 'Have they gone? Is it safe for me to emerge?'

  'They were all perfectly pleasant ladies, Samuel, but none of them had anything of interest to tell us. Do you not think it strange Mrs Forsyth has yet to receive any visitors? If she had not been seen about the place one would think she might not exist.'

  He tossed the journal to one side. 'I think this rather confirms my suspicions. If Forsyth is involved with Stanton then he wouldn't want the local busybodies in and out of his house. The fact that he has such a high turnover of servants is also suspicious.'

  'Why is it suspicious? Surely if they're difficult to work for then staff would leave of their own accord.'

  'That's perfectly possible, but it could also be that Forsyth has no wish for anyone to be there long enough to discover his personal business. I already have Collins sniffing about. If there's anything to discover my man will know by the end of the day.'

  'I'm now going to call on the four ladies who said they would be receiving this afternoon. Why don't you come with me?'

  'God forbid! I've discovered something in one of the papers we brought with us from Whitford Hall. Your husband also dealt with a company in the city and I intend to visit them this afternoon. You'll recall that there was a letter from London that day but it was taken by the murderer. It has to be significant.'

  'Do you still think that Richard's murder was unintentional? That my brother-in-law sent a henchman to recover the letter and on finding my husband in the study he killed him by accident?'

  'I think that it was possible your husband recognised the man which made his death inevitable. I'm sure Stanton wished his theft to remain undiscovered and he'll be aware that this information will now have come to light. He must be concerned that he has heard nothing about the death. With hindsight I think you should have contacted him.'

  'I shall send word to Mr Stokes. My man can inform him that the interment has already taken place because Richard's death was a suicide and I had no wish to make this fact public. We can also tell Stanton that I've gone to stay with my family and the house is closed.'

  'Good idea. That should settle his nerves and give us a week or so to uncover the truth.'

  Chapter Ten

  Emma decided she would take a footman with her as she had no intention of knocking on the doors herself. She was awash with tea and almond biscuits by the time she returned home at five o'clock. On enquiry she discovered that Samuel was still out and she was disappointed she couldn't tell him immediately what she'd found out.

  When on her final morning call, with one Mrs Godden at the house adjacent to Mrs Forsyth, she had made discreet enquiries about her neighbours. Emma had been hard-pressed to keep her excitement hidden and had scarcely known how to continue the conversation without revealing her feelings. Now she would have to contain herself until Samuel returned and she could give him the information.

  *

  Sam rode up to Darlington & Son, the firm he was seeking, and was unsurprised to find it was around the corner from Capel Court where the new stock exchange was located. No doubt it was easier for the brokers to have their offices close by.

  He directed his mount under the archway adjacent to the building and was immediately approached by an ostler. 'Leave your horse with me, sir, and then take the side door. It will lead you directly to the vestibule.'

  'I'll not be long, there's no need to untack him.' Sam dismounted and tossed the reins to the waiting groom.

  As he entered the premises he was struck by its opulence – this was a place where gentlemen of means came to discuss their financial dealings. He was definitely a fish out of water in his country clothes and less than gentlemanly accent.

  A scrawny, elderly cove was sitting behind a desk against the left-hand wall, a giant ledger in front of him. 'Good afternoon, sir, with whom do you have an appointment?'

  He was about to announce himself as Mr Ashfield but then realised he would hardly be making investigative enquiries about a complete stranger if he was this person. He would have to revert to his Bow Street Runner name.

  'I'm Sergeant Ross from Bow Street. I'd like to speak to the person who recently communicated with Mr Richard Stanton of Whitford Hall.'

  'I believe that would be young Mr Darlington. If you would care to take a seat, Sergeant Ross, I will make enquiries as to his whereabouts.'

  Sam now thought that he was too smart rather than the reverse. He was fairly sure there wasn't a runner on the books, and there were around four dozen of them, who had togs as good as his. His wits were addled – since he had made the acquaintance of Emma, he'd been making elementary mistakes. If he continued in this vein the whole masquerade would come unravelled before they achieved their objective.

  The elderly man returned and almost bowed but then thought better of it. Sam hid his grin behind his arm as he stood up. His appearance was obviously confusing the clerk. Did he need to come up with an extra notion for why he was dressed above his station?

  'If you would care to come this way, Sergeant Ross, young Mr Darlington will see you right away.'

  He was led down an echoing passageway to the rear of the building and the clerk stopped outside an open door. 'Mr Darlington, Sergeant Ross to see you.'

  Sam walked into a spacious chamber as well-appointed as the rest of the place. There was obviously money to be made buying and selling bonds and stocks if he was any judge of the matter.

  Mr Darlington wasn't sitting behind his desk, he had come around to greet him personally. 'Sergeant, I didn't expect Mr Stanton to respond by sending an investigator but I can see why he would wish to do so. Would you care to take a seat?'

  'Before we start, sir, I need to give you the grave news that Mr Stanton was murdered last week. The letter that came from you was no longer in his study and Lady Emma employed me to find out who killed her husband and what significance your letter had in the tragedy.'

  The man staggered forward and only Sam's quick reflexes prevented him from falling head first against the marble fireplace.

  'Dear God! How could this have happened?'

  Mr Darlington sagged and Sam was obliged to heft him like a sack of coal to the nearest chair. He yelled for assistance and the shrivelled clerk appeared so quickly he must have been lurking outside the door.

  'Brandy, fetch it immediately.' The clerk didn't argue but scuttled across the room and removed a decanter and glass from a bureau. He tipped a generous measure out and then hesitated as if not sure whether to offer it directly to his superior or give it to Sam.

  'Here, allow me. Perhaps somebody could provide tea or coffee as well?' Sam had been holding Darlington upright and he could feel the man's tremors through his hand. Gently he supported him and put the glass to his lips. 'Drink some of this, sir, it will restore you.'

  A great deal of the liquid trickled down Mr Darlington's chin but he managed to swallow sufficient of the cognac to bring him to his senses.

  'Thank you, I am feeling a lot better now. Would you be kind enough to help me to my desk? Leaning on it will give me the necessary support – I fear I'll tip onto my face again sitting here.'

  By the time Sam had settled the man the sound of rattling crockery could be heard approaching the office. A spotty youth staggered in with a tray, closely followed by the clerk.

  'Put it over there, boy and be ready to collect it when the master has finished.' The tray was placed on the desk and the clerk fussed over the contents before stepping back and bowing. 'If you require anything else, sir, there's a bell on the shelf you can ring.'

  Mr Darlington waved him away. 'Would you be good enough to pour us both a coffee, Sergeant Ross? I see we have plum cake and almond biscuits, I should like some of each if you please.'

  Once they were both served Sam sat opposite and waited expectantly. After a few sips his patience was rewarded.

  'I do apologise for my collapse, my constitution is not as robust as I would like and sudden shocks are not good for my health. The letter I sent to Mr Stanton was to inform him that his half-brother was now in possession of his portfolio. I assumed this transaction had been legitimate – that they had come to some arrangement between themselves.

  'As I am sure you know Mr Benedict Stanton was left with very little when their father died and has always resented this fact.'

  'How did you come to know about these shares?'

  'When a large block of shares is transferred word always gets around the brokers at the stock exchange. I was somewhat dismayed that Mr Richard Stanton, my client, hadn't used me to accomplish the transfer but another company.'

  Sam finished his drink and poured himself a second cup. This gave him a few moments to process this information. 'Would Mr Benedict Stanton not have realised you would contact his brother?'

  'Possibly not – from what I know of him he's of limited intelligence. I take it these funds were fraudulently transferred?'

  'They were – one of the senior partners at the Chelmsford lawyers orchestrated this. Mrs Stanton wouldn't have known if her husband hadn't died so suddenly. She only contacted Mr Dickens to inform him of the death and the theft was discovered then.'

  'Can you prove that Mr Richard Stanton didn't in fact agree to this transfer? Surely his signature would have been needed?'