Checkmate, My Lord - By Tracey Devlyn Page 0,113

the information he confided to Cochran was being used for such ill purpose. The man’s ambitious nature led him to risky choices. I daresay he hoped Cochran would provide a suitable reference when the time came.”

“And the investigation against Lord Somerton?” Helsford asked.

“Dropped.”

The room’s occupants breathed a collective sigh of relief. Catherine ducked her head and closed her eyes. Sebastian watched her mouth move over silent words.

Tearing his gaze away, he said, “Thank you, sir.”

“It is I who should thank you,” Reeves said. “Although you were not fond of my decision to place you on leave, you appeared to understand.” His gaze roamed the room at large. “And my apologies to all of you—especially Mrs. Ashcroft and her family—for the role my clerk played in this injurious plot. You cannot know how aggrieved I am at your suffering.”

“Thank you, Mr. Reeves,” Catherine said. “But you are not to blame. If anyone owes us an apology, it is Frederick Cochran, and he is dead. So, we will pick up the pieces of our lives and carry on, good sir.”

“You are too gracious, I assure you, ma’am,” Reeves said, with a bow. “But I thank you, all the same.”

“Three dead bodies in a small village like Showbury are bound to attract some notice.” Danforth sank deeper into his chair. “Not good for the Nexus.”

“Leave the bodies to me.” Sebastian kept his gaze ahead.

“As I do not fully comprehend what ‘leave the bodies to me’ means,” Catherine said, “I would like to make arrangements for Mrs. Clarke to have a proper burial.”

Sebastian straightened and gave her his full attention. “You wish to look after a woman in league with the man who threatened your daughter’s life?”

She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze. “I do.”

“Care to expound, madam?”

“She was a mother.”

Sebastian studied her resolute gaze, her squared shoulders, and her clasped hands. “I take it the two of you found something in common.”

Her nod was somewhat shaky. “Before she died, she spoke of her son, Giles.” She stared down at her hands for a moment, struggling with emotion. Then she raised her head, her pretty brown eyes full of misery. “He’s in London, at a boys’ home somewhere, to ensure his mother’s cooperation. Mrs. Clarke did what she had to do to protect him.”

As she had with her daughter, as he would with her and Sophie.

“We will find him,” Sebastian assured her, recalling the name Abbingale Home from Ashcroft’s missing letter. His gaze settled on Danforth, who nodded his understanding. With luck, Abbingale would provide the link they needed to locate Latymer. A scene flashed through his mind. “Silas, before he was killed, spoke fluent French.”

“Perhaps others besides the Frenchman Valère have been working Latymer’s marionette strings,” Reeves said.

Helsford, who stood behind Cora, smoothed his hand over her sable locks. She grasped his fingers and kissed their tips. The sight sent an answering pang of longing through Sebastian, and his gaze sought Catherine’s, but she was also watching the display of affection.

“Where do we go from here?” Danforth asked.

Sebastian rubbed his temple, feeling the events of the day depleting his strength. “You can begin making inquiries into homes for orphans. Start with Abbingale Home.” He dropped his hand. “Helsford, see if your informant can track down Latymer.”

“Yes, sir,” Helsford said.

“What of me?” Cora asked.

“You are on leave until after the first of the year.”

“What?”

“If you push me,” Sebastian said in the hardest voice he could muster, “I will make it permanent.”

Cora’s body vibrated with anger, but she said nothing.

“Enjoy your respite, runt,” her brother said. “Go home and play with that thing you call a kitten. If that doesn’t excite you enough, I should like to have a nephew. Or a niece, if you must.”

“Ethan,” Cora attempted to rise, but Helsford grabbed her shoulders, “do you recall our conversation about your head getting lopped off?”

Danforth held a large bolster across his body like a shield. “No need for violence, sister. Just trying to offer you my support.”

Helsford broke in. “Shall we report back to you here? Or London?”

The silence that pervaded the study rubbed Sebastian’s nerves raw, as did the avid stares of everyone in the room. Everyone but one, that was. He felt Catherine’s disinterest more keenly than any probing gaze.

“London,” he said. “It is past time for my return.”

“Well,” Catherine said, rising. “Since there is nothing left for me to do here, I shall collect Sophie and be off.”

Sebastian’s stomach knotted, yet he could not bring himself to dissuade her.

“Catherine, you must

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