He knew with increasing certainty that he was in the wrong, but pride was hard to let go of.
“There you have it,” Lionel went on. “My American contacts said they’d investigate further, but even with the modern marvel of trans-Atlantic telegraph cables, the best I was able to discover was what we more or less already know. I have a wealth of uneasy feelings about Mr. Bartholomew Swan, though. He strikes me as—”
Lionel’s speech was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.
“Were you expecting company?” Phin asked with a teasing arch of one eyebrow.
“You know full well I’ve embarked on a vow of celibacy,” Lionel answered, heading for the door with an intrigued and hopeful look all the same.
A second knock came just as Lionel opened it to reveal Det. Gleason. Phin’s heart dropped like a rock into his gut, and he stood. In his worry and hurt over Lenore, he’d forgotten about Lady Hamilton and her quest for vengeance yet again. But that didn’t explain why her bulldog was standing in Lionel’s doorway, eyeing him and Lionel with slightly narrowed eyes.
“Mr. Mercer,” Det. Gleason said, though it wasn’t clear which Mr. Mercer he was addressing. “If you don’t mind, I have some questions for you.” As soon as he stepped into the flat, his sharp gaze fixed on Phin, proving Phin was the one he’d come to see.
“How quaint,” Lionel said, shutting the door behind Det. Gleason and raking the rather short man with a grin. “I do love a man who is direct and to the point.”
Det. Gleason glanced over his shoulder at Lionel, assessing him the same way Lionel was scrutinizing him. Phin swallowed, fighting the wariness that slithered down his back. If Gleason wasn’t intimidated by Lionel’s flirtation, chances were he wouldn’t be easy to dismiss and get rid of.
“Good evening, sir,” Phin greeted him, doing his best to look as innocent as possible. “Would you care to explain why you are calling on me at my brother’s flat instead of my home?”
“You’ve been out of town, in Yorkshire, these past few days,” Gleason explained with a banal smile. “You only just returned home this evening. The train from York arrived at seven-fifteen. You dropped Miss Garrett off at the home of Lord Howsden, returned to your own home, spent thirty-seven minutes there, then proceeded directly to your brother’s flat.”
They were fucked. Completely and utterly.
All the same, Phin put on a congenial smile. “What questions can I answer for you, Det. Gleason?”
“Could I get you a cup of tea?” Lionel asked at the same time.
Gleason turned to stare at Lionel as if considering it, as if considering him. “No, thank you. I’m only here to ask a few questions. It won’t take long.” He turned back to Phin. “Mr. Mercer, forgive the bluntness of the question, but from where do you receive your income?”
Cold prickles raced down Phin’s back. Gleason already knew the truth.
“My family has an estate in Yorkshire,” he said, knowing that answer wouldn’t satisfy the man.
Lionel walked slowly around Gleason, watching him as he moved, until he came to stand on the other side of the sofa, behind Phin. Phin assumed it was so that Lionel could study the man as he went about his interrogation.
“It is my understanding,” Gleason went on, stroking the day’s worth of stubble on his chin, “that your family’s circumstances were reduced.”
“They are,” Phin admitted in a dark voice, offended that anyone would disparage his family, or even come close to disparaging them. “But we get by.”
“With additional income from the two of you, I would assume,” Gleason said, meeting Phin’s eyes, then nodding past him to Lionel.
Phin pivoted slightly to include Lionel in the conversation, even though he hung back, judging Gleason as though he were a scientific specimen. “We both contribute to the family’s income in our own ways,” Phin said, as vaguely as possible.
He should have known Gleason would go on to ask, “And how do you contribute, sir?”
Phin took a breath and clasped his hands behind his back, scrambling for an answer that would be plausible. “I have investments,” he said. It was the best answer he could come up with and one that was common to most members of the gentry and aristocracy.
Gleason nodded, continuing to stroke his chin. His gaze traveled past Phin to Lionel for a moment before he went on. “Do you know a man by the name of Chester Jameson?”
Phin fought to look innocent. He shrugged and shook