The Sign of Death by Callie Hutton (i like reading .TXT) 📕

discuss our information. I believe it’s time for tea,” William said as he steered her out of the Pump Room.

They walked onto the cobblestone pathway, which had dozens of shops on either side, and found a teashop that looked large enough to give them some anonymity. Once they settled into their seats and ordered tea, Amy glanced around the room and lowered her voice. The shop was busy, but no one seemed to be paying them any attention.

“I had time to visit with Mrs. Whitney Saturday afternoon when Aunt Margaret and I made afternoon calls,” Amy said. “Well, actually only one call, because Mrs. Whitney was blessedly at the first place we stopped.”

The waiter returned with the tea and a tray full of small sandwiches, tarts, and biscuits. Amy eyed them, then shook her head and poured their tea. She handed William a plate, which he immediately filled up.

“Aren’t you having anything besides tea?”

Amy sighed. “I’m afraid not. I think I need to cut back on treats.”

“Why?” He looked genuinely surprised, which warmed her heart.

“Because I need to lose a bit of weight.”

He shook his head. “No you don’t.” He popped a piece of lemon tart into his mouth. “This is very good.”

Attempting to distract herself, she said, “Mrs. Whitney is beside herself with concern over her stepson, Patrick. Mr. Harding was the trustee for the trust Mrs. Whitney’s deceased husband set up for her in his will. She is afraid Patrick learned that Mr. Harding was stealing from her and went after the man.”

“Does she think Patrick may have had something to do with Harding’s murder?”

“She didn’t say that exactly, but she did say that her stepson went missing around the same time Mr. Harding was discovered in the river.”

“I’m beginning to believe James was truly a wicked man.” William picked up a tart and placed it on her plate.

She eyed the treat but attempted to ignore it. With one finger, he pushed the plate closer to her. When she looked at him, he winked. She picked up the tart. “Just one bite.” She closed her eyes and groaned. “This is delicious.”

William laughed. “Continue.”

Amy wiped her mouth. “She didn’t say, but I got the impression from her demeanor that she is worried his disappearance might have something to do with Mr. Harding’s death.”

“Based on that, we will place him firmly on our list.”

“Exactly.”

William slid his empty plate aside. “Another thing that I’ve been considering lately. The man we met at the King’s Garden who told us about Harding meeting people there on a regular basis mentioned he marked information down in a book.”

Amy’s face lit up as she straightened in her chair. “Yes. You are right. We have to get our hands on that book.” Amy scowled. “Unless the police already have it.”

William shook his head. “No. They were thrilled to get the files. I don’t have a lot of faith in our police, so it’s quite possible they would not consider a general ledger for recording names and payments to be important.”

“My lord, I believe I will turn you into a private detective yet.”

He bowed toward her. “Clearly.”

Once William paid their bill, they strolled back to where they had left the carriage. “Will you be at the book club meeting this Thursday?” Amy asked.

“Yes. I am mostly caught up on my work. Without my file from the police, however, there are some facts I am missing. I visited the bank, and their numbers do not correlate with mine, but I’m sure Harding’s file of my affairs from his end will give me an idea where the discrepancy lies.”

“I am going to attempt to have a private conversation with Miss Gertrude Thursday. She and her sister generally arrive early and spend some time browsing the bookshelves in the store before the meeting.”

William helped her into the carriage, and they both settled in. The beautiful sunny day had turned cloudy and cool. Amy shivered, and William handed her the blanket from under his seat.

“Are you up for another visit to Harding’s house to look for the ledger?” William asked.

“Yes.” Her answer was out before he finished his sentence. She was always up for a chance to do some snooping and investigating. “Just tell me when.”

“I will come up with a plan, and we’ll go over it when we meet Thursday at the club. Shall I stop by to pick you up?”

Considering her papa’s enthusiasm for William and his visits, it would probably be better to travel there herself. “No, I will take my own carriage. But thank you.”

“Why?”

Amy fidgeted on the seat. “No particular reason.”

He grinned. “Are you sure?”

Amy raised her chin. “Of course I’m sure. I traveled by myself to the book club meetings for two years before you began calling for me.”

William burst out laughing.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What, pray tell, is so funny about that?”

He leaned back in his seat and rested his foot on his bent knee. “What is funny, my lady, is you trying to convince me, or perhaps yourself, that your father—with his eager greeting every time I arrive at your house—has nothing to do with your decision.”

She huffed and looked out the window. They had just arrived at her house. Once the driver opened the door, William stepped out, turned, and took her hand. She stepped out, and they made their way to the front door. “Good night, Amy. If you change your mind about having me call for you Thursday, just send around a note.”

She nodded. “And don’t forget to make your plan for our next trip to recover the ledger.”

Stevens opened the door, and Amy stepped inside. Once the door was closed, he said, “This came for you this evening.” He handed her an envelope from her publisher. With a certain amount of dread, she opened the missive and scanned the page, groaning as she read.

My dear Lady Amy,

This letter is to advise you that, in accordance with your contract with Chatto & Windus, Publishers, we require you to