The Formidable Earl (Diamonds in the Rough #6) - Sophie Barnes Page 0,89

sun and the moon. Just not the stars.

She flipped the page. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

“I recommend the lamb,” Simon said, his voice scattering her thoughts like dry leaves in the autumn wind. “With a bottle of Chateau Lafite to accompany it.”

“Sounds good to me,” Mr. St. John said. He snapped his menu shut.

Ida smiled tightly and gave a swift nod of agreement.

Simon threw her an odd look then returned his attention to Mr. St. John. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get right to the heart of my reason for wanting to see you.”

A waiter came and took their order. Simon waited until the man brought the wine and filled their glasses before saying, “It’s in regard to the break in that took place at one of my properties three nights ago. I know the culprit was in your employ and that Bow Street intended to have you identify him.”

Mr. St. John sipped his wine. Deep grooves appeared on his brow as he set the glass down and folded his arms on the table. “I did so yesterday. The man’s name was Owen Princhet, and like many of my employees, he was a former soldier.”

“Is that customary?” Ida asked. “For munitions companies to hire veterans?”

Mr. St. John’s pale blue eyes met hers. “They know their weapons, have experience using them, and are often able to suggest improvements. Much of the work required can even be done by those who’ve lost a limb and would not be able to find work elsewhere.”

“So you give them a purpose?”

“In a manner of speaking. I give them the means to support themselves and provide for their families.”

“A noble gesture,” Simon declared.

“Very,” Ida agreed. So far, she’d no real reason to dislike the man, yet there was a niggling feeling deep in her gut. It was more than the result of her own misgivings over her relationship with Simon.

“Unfortunately,” Mr. St. John said, “such men sometimes have invisible scars. I’m sorry one such individual threatened your lives.”

Simon glanced at Ida quickly, then quietly added, “It was no accidental break in. He was sent there by someone. The paper found on his person was from your company and had my address written on it.”

Mr. St. John looked at them each in turn before saying, “Forgive me, but I’m not sure what you’re asking.”

“Since neither of us had ever met Princhet before,” Simon said, “it stands to good reason that someone must have hired him to kill Miss Strong, who presently happens to be residing at that address.”

“Kill?”

“He brought a very large knife with him and went straight for her bedchamber.”

Mr. St John’s eyes widened. “Good God.”

“Indeed,” Ida murmured.

The waiter brought their food, which looked delicious. Ida proceeded to cut her lamb.

“I don’t understand,” Mr. St. John said. He sounded truly baffled. “Why on earth would anyone wish to harm you, Miss Strong?”

“Perhaps because she’s close to proving her father’s innocence and someone else’s guilt,” Simon suggested. “The other night’s attack is not the only one she’s had to suffer.”

“Heavens,” Mr. St. John said with wide-eyed dismay. “I’m sorry to hear it.”

Simon inclined his head. “All that matters now is for us to figure out who might have issued the order.”

“Of course.” Mr. St. John gave his own attention to his plate. “How can I be of service?”

“I was wondering if any of your investors or board members might have been well enough acquainted with Princhet to know he’d be willing to do something like this.”

“You clearly suspect a high ranking individual.” Mr. St. John held Simon’s gaze for a long moment before he finally said, “I might have seen the Marquess of Kirksdale conversing with him on a couple of occasions. The Earl of Elmwood and Mr. Nugent too, now I think of it.”

Ida sighed. “All three of them? You’re sure about this?”

“Princhet knew a great deal about weaponry. He liked to talk and the three men were keen to listen.”

“And would you be willing to testify to this in court?” Simon asked.

“It won’t help in a legal argument,” Ida told Simon, “unless there’s additional information suggesting one of these men hired Princhet to kill me.”

“I know,” Simon told her gently, “but it does help establish a connection which may prove useful along with the rest of the evidence.” He turned to Mr. St. John. “Well?”

“I’m happy to help in any way I can,” Mr. St. John assured him.

“In that case,” Simon said with a smile, “we’d like to know how