Lily nodded, silently amazed at her good luck. She had expected she would need to sneak back downstairs to search for the general’s study; separate washrooms had become fashionable among the wealthy in the last few years, but very few households had installed them downstairs.
She paused just outside the washroom and glanced back over her shoulder. The other two women had already gone outside, and there were no servants in sight. Lily darted to the study door and tried the handle. She sighed with relief as the door swung open, and she slipped inside.
General Harper’s study was smaller than she had expected, and she couldn’t help comparing the ostentatiousness of the furniture—bought to be showy and imposing—to the quiet dignity of Lord Walter’s study. There was no fire made up and no lamps lit, which left the room chilly and a little dim, so Lily twitched one curtain a little aside to provide more light before turning to take stock of her task.
The obvious place to start was the desk. For a moment Lily hesitated, wondering if that was too obvious. But she didn’t have enough time to waste any of it standing there wondering, so she shook off her doubts and got to work immediately. There were several ledgers laid out on the desk. They contained the household accounts and—she shook her head disapprovingly—a record of Reggie Harper’s personal expenses, which involved a great deal of money spent at the gaming tables. Lily put the ledgers back into place, making sure they were aligned with the blotter exactly as they had been before she touched them, and began searching the drawers.
She came up with nothing. The general’s drawers were full of any number of papers and letters, along with a pistol in the bottom drawer, but no gray ledger. She couldn’t afford to take much more time, or her friends would wonder where she was. Holding back a frustrated sigh, Lily stood, her eyes wandering around the room. There were bookshelves along one wall. What better place to hide a ledger than among other books?
Most of the volumes had titles embossed on the spines. Lily ignored those, scanning for books that were gray and slim enough to be the one she was looking for and pulling them out quickly to flip through the pages.
A book of maps. A walking guide to a village somewhere outside London. Sermons. More maps. Lily knew she was running out of time as she pulled out a fifth volume.
This one was different. Rather than being a printed book like the others, it was filled with papers, some carefully written, some stuck between other pages, all dense with numbers and lists. Lily was certain she had found the right one, but before she could look more closely at its contents, the sound of voices made her freeze.
“Is my uncle in his study?”
It was Reggie Harper, just outside the door. Lily’s eyes darted around the room, trying to find a place to hide, but before she could decide what to do, the butler’s voice answered.
“I’m afraid the general is out today, sir. There is every chance he will not be back until tomorrow afternoon.”
“Bad luck, then,” Reggie said cheerfully. “Well, not so bad for me; bounder’s always breathing down my neck, you know, him and Isobel, confound the girl. Shall have to check back tomorrow or the day after …”
A third, deeper voice answered as footsteps moved away from the door, but Lily was too distracted by relief to pay much attention. Hurrying across the room as silently as possible, she pressed her ear against the door and listened until the footsteps faded.
Even though she had not looked through the ledger as carefully as she wanted to, Lily needed to leave. Luckily the book was not large or thick, so she wiggled it down the low-cut front of her afternoon dress and under her stays. The edges dug uncomfortably into her skin, but the lacing of the short corset held the book in place. The fall of her dress did nothing to obscure the bottom edges, but she had worn a long coat that afternoon. She buttoned that up and said a quick prayer that the heavier fabric would disguise the odd shape now lurking under her bosom. Holding her reticule in front of her stomach to hide any still-visible outline, she hurried out into the corridor, trying to keep her breathing and her speed normal as she retraced her steps toward the garden door.
“Mrs. Adler. What a surprise to see you.”
The voice stopped her in her tracks as she rounded the corner into the main hall. Lily managed to stifle a panicked gasp as she turned and found herself confronted by Reggie Harper and—her eyes flew wide before she could stop herself—Mr. Hyrum Lacey.
His had been the third voice, she realized too late. Mr. Harper had been taking the shipping agent to see his uncle.
It had been Mr. Lacey who spoke to her, and Lily, defensive and panicked but not wanting to show it, responded the first way that came to mind. “I beg your pardon, Mr.…?”
“Hyrum Lacey, madam. You will recall we met the other day.” Mr. Lacey’s smile was distinctly unpleasant as he added, “You spoke so well of my shipping agency?”
Lily swallowed and nodded coldly, then quickly changed her mind and attempted a polite smile. “Ah yes, I do recall.” She shrugged, feigning unconcern, though the motion made her all too aware of the ledger digging into her torso. “I have a difficult time remembering anything to do with business, I’m sure you understand.”
“Isobel’s the same way,” Reggie Harper agreed with a laugh that was clearly meant to be friendly but left Lily’s stomach turning with distaste. “Most females are, Lacey.”
“Were you also looking for the general, ma’am?” Mr. Lacey glanced pointedly down the hallway, then back at Lily, and the coldness of his stare made her skin crawl. He had addressed her by her name, she realized with a sick lurch in her stomach. The name she very carefully hadn’t given him when they had met on the street. The only way for him to know it was if the general had said something to him. And if they had been discussing her …
“No,” she said abruptly, too desperate to be polite. “Mr. Harper, I was hoping to join your sister in the garden, but seem to have gotten lost as I left the washroom.” Between the two men, she was not sure who unsettled her more, but Mr. Harper at least was not involved in treason and murder. “Perhaps you could show me the way?”
“I should be delighted. If you will excuse us, Lacey?” He offered his arm, and Lily had no choice but to take it. Her spine prickled as she turned her back on Mr. Lacey, and she was so focused on getting away from him that she didn’t notice that Reggie Harper had pulled her too close until he leaned over and spoke. “You know, Mrs. Adler,” he murmured, “You’d not feel the need to worry about business matters if you had a gentleman to … distract you.”
Lily swallowed and tried to edge away from him. “I believe we have already had this discussion, sir. It did not end well for you.”
“And yet here we are again—”
“And here is the door to the garden,” she continued over him, her voice bright and brittle. “I must rejoin my friends.” She pulled her arm very firmly from his and tried not to look too relieved when he let her go. She was a guest in his home, after all, and neither of them wanted to make a scene. “I thank you for your escort, Mr. Harper. And I continue to be uninterested in any offer you might have to make me.”
Lily turned her back on him and walked toward the French doors. She could feel his eyes on her every step of the way, but she did not look back.
* * *
Lily thought she handled herself well through the rest of the visit, which consisted mostly of Serena pressing for more details, and Isobel Harper admitting only that she and Christopher Kettering had developed an understanding, with his father’s approval. But once they had taken their leave—fortunately, without seeing Mr. Harper or Mr. Lacey again—Serena waited only until her carriage had pulled away from the steps before she demanded, “Lily, what on earth happened in there?”
“What makes you think anything happened?”
“Because your hands have been shaking these past thirty minutes.”
“It’s nothing—”
“It’s not nothing,” Serena interrupted, “so do not try to—” She
broke off, eyes growing wide. “Oh, my dear Lily. You ran into Mr. Harper. Did he importune you again? That bastard.”
“No. I mean, yes, but—since when do you curse?”
“Since someone upset my dearest friend. Tell me what happened.”
“Truly, it was nothing. I met Mr. Harper in the hallway and had to give him another setdown. I shall be quite myself after I get home.”
Serena narrowed her eyes. “You are a terrible liar.”
“I am actually quite a good liar.”
“Not to me. There has been something happening since you returned to London, and now you are dreadfully upset. You must tell me what is going on.”
Lily hesitated. But Serena was her closest friend. And as she no longer suspected Lord Walter—she didn’t even need to mention her suspicions, in fact—it would be a relief to unburden herself to someone not involved. “Well, in fact, it was not only Mr. Harper who had me overset.” Lowering her voice in case the driver or grooms should be listening, she described her efforts to track down the murderer of the man in the Walters’ garden, her suspicions of the general, and the role that Hyrum Lacey of Lacey and West, Shipping Agents, seemed to be playing. “And then who should I come face-to-face with in the Harpers’ home but Lacey himself. And Serena, I am positive he knows I’m up to something. Or perhaps he is naturally suspicious of everyone, given his own crimes. But I have them now, I am certain of it,” she concluded, a little breathless and surprised at her own eagerness to describe her work.
She had expected that Serena, with her love of intrigue and scandal, would be thrilled by such an exciting tale. Instead, her friend’s expression had turned thunderous. “You mean to say you are actually investigating that wretched mess? For God’s sake, what would possess you to do such a thing?”
It look Lily a stunned moment to come up with a response. “A man was murdered, Serena. I heard him murdered. I had to do something.”
“No, you did not. You could have left it dashed well alone. Nobody knew him. Bow Street let the matter drop; why couldn’t you?”
Her own ire growing, Lily snapped back, “Do you even know why the magistrate stopped looking into things?”
“Because my husband paid him to, of course.”
Lily was left in stunned silence for the second time in as many minutes. “You knew?” she finally managed to ask.
“Of course I knew. I know everything that goes on in my home.”
“And that didn’t bother you at all?” Lily had always known that she and her friend were very different people. But to listen to Serena calmly state that she had known about Lord Walter’s bribe was almost more than Lily could believe.
“I would rather it had not been necessary, of course. But what else could we do?”
“Allow the investigation to proceed, perhaps? Encourage the magistrate to find a murderer before he kills again? I cannot believe you would approve of such a thing.”
“I would have done it myself if he had not.”
“You cannot be serious,” Lily insisted.
“I am.” Serena’s voice rose. “And I cannot believe you would go behind my back in such a manner, never mind that you would undertake such a foolish, dangerous—” The viscountess broke off with a deep breath. “We are nearly at your home, and this is an excellent time for you to take your leave.”
“Serena—”
“I asked you to go, Lily.”
Lily wanted to protest, to shake her friend and insist that she see things more clearly, with more compassion, to demand where Serena’s sense of justice lay. But the carriage rolled to a stop at number thirteen, and the groom hopped down and swung open the door for her. Serena turned away, and Lily had no choice but to take his hand and step down.
At the foot of the stairs she turned, unable to let the matter lie. “It was the right thing to do, Serena.”
Lady Walter glanced over her shoulder. “For you, perhaps.” She gestured to the groom. “Close the door, Matthew.”
Lily clenched her fists and pressed them against her abdomen, where the ledger was still tucked inside her stays, and watched as her friend’s carriage rolled away. Then she turned, her face cool and blank, and went inside her home.
Serena would have to wait. Lily had work to do.
CHAPTER 22
Lily paced anxiously in her front hall, waiting for Jack to arrive.
She had been pacing in the drawing room where none of her servants could see her odd behavior. But Ofelia was already in there, going through the general’s ledger, and after the girl’s second demand that Mrs. Adler “stop fidgeting and let me concentrate, if you please,” Lily had resigned herself to watching out the window from the hall.
It was nearly time for tea when Jack arrived in a rush, explaining that he had been at his club and only just gotten her message when he returned home. “Are you well?” he demanded, looking Lily over from head to toe as soon as he had surrendered his hat to Carstairs. “No one has come by? No one suspicious?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Lily said, exasperated. “No, and I do not need to be reminded of that every time I see you. I would much prefer to forget the whole incident.”
“Then why are you looking so frazzled?”
Lily frowned. “That is hardly a gentlemanly greeting.” Catching sight of herself in the hall mirror, though, she grimaced and smoothed down her hair. “Come into the drawing room, and I will explain. Ofelia is already there.”
The scene that greeted them would have been comical under other circumstances. Ofelia sat in the middle of the floor, her skirts puffing up around her like an awkward tulip, her hat, gloves, and wine all sitting forgotten beside her as she went through the general’s papers. She scrambled to her feet when they entered, swiftly yanking down her petticoat and skirt to cover her ankles. “This is it,” she said, breathless with excitement as she sorted the papers back into the ledger. “I am certain. Oh, Mrs. Adler, how clever of you to—oh!” Trying to avoid the wineglass on the floor, she knocked against a side table and nearly sent a vase of flowers flying.
Jack caught both the heiress and the flowers as Lily rescued the wineglass. He looked back and forth between the two women in confusion. “What the devil is going on?”
“Mrs. Adler did it.” Ofelia trembled as she held out the ledger. “She did it!”
Jack took it, staring first at the book, then at Lily. “Is this—” He sat down abruptly, paging through the volume.
“General Harper’s ledger.” Lily couldn’t help feeling smug at his dumbfounded expression. “I asked Ofelia to look it over, since she understands the paperwork better than I ever could. What did you decide, dear?”
“It’s just as the captain suspected.” Ofelia sat next to Jack and reached over his arm to flip through the pages, not paying any attention to his resigned sigh as he relinquished the ledger back to her before he had finished looking through it. “It was a shipping manifest you saw the general take, and look—”
“Where did you get it?” Jack interrupted.
“From the general’s house, of course,” Lily said. “So the shipping manifests—”
“His house?” Jack would not be distracted. “You went to his house and what? Simply asked for it?”
“Of course not; that would be ridiculous. I went for a visit with Lady Walter and sneaked it out of his study in my corset.”
“You … what?”
“And now we need to determine whether it provides enough information for us to go to Bow Street.” Lily paused, giving Jack a sideways glance. “Are you going to lecture me for doing something dangerous?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I am in awe of your boldness. And also appalled that you thought of that before I did. And perhaps a little tempted to wring your neck.”
“That is quite a number of sensations to feel at once.” Lily pursed her lips against a smile.
“It is rather an uncomfortable state of being, yes.”
“You can sort out your f
eelings towards Mrs. Adler at a later time, Captain,” Ofelia interrupted impatiently. “For now, can we decide what to do with the evidence she procured?”
“The shipping manifests,” Jack agreed, looking suddenly flustered. “Everything seems to be in sets of two.”
“Yes.” Ofelia leaned over his shoulder and tapped the page. Lily watched, content to let them share their impressions without interruption. “The first is a contract and bill of order from the War Office.”
“And each order contains a record of payment,” Jack added as he turned the pages.
“And then there is a shipping manifest from Lacey and West for the same order,” Ofelia added. “The real shipping manifest, not the ones Mr. Lacey provided them. Those are here”—she flipped further back in the book, her hands shaking with excitement as she turned the pages—“which I think are the documents you saw the general taking.”
Jack whistled. “If the War Office saw these, they would know Lacey was cheating them.”
“But that is what I don’t understand,” Lily put in. “Why would the general keep papers that prove his complicity?”
“Because they don’t.” Ofelia laid out the documents side by side. “These show that each shipment was not what the War Office ordered and paid for. There is no mention of General Harper at all.”
“Blackmail?” Lily asked.
“Insurance at the very least,” Jack agreed. “The general may have kept these documents in order to save his own skin, not thinking Mr. Lacey a trustworthy partner.”
“In either case, it’s enough to begin with,” Lily said. “Enough to take to Bow Street.”
“If Lacey does not want to hang for murder, he should point the finger at Harper, especially once he knows these documents are in the law’s possession,” Jack agreed.
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