“He is not like you, then.”
“Not like most of us.”
She turned the sheet. Her hands, red and soapy, caught her attention. She paused to check her nails. They looked like a washerwoman’s. Not surprising, since she had become one.
She began scrubbing again but noticed that Chase’s attention had also been on her hands.
“Only one more day,” she said. “They will heal.”
“Could you not have found someone to spy in your stead?”
An awkward question. She scrubbed with determination.
“Ah, you did.” He ambled closer. “You have friends here, helping you. I thought you might have.”
“I don’t need anyone else to do this. I have eyes and ears.”
“But more eyes and ears would be useful.”
“Did you place some friends or employees among the servants? Do you think I did because you did? How clever of you. I wonder if I can guess which ones.” She made a display of pondering. “The footman Andrew? He is amiable enough to lure all kinds of secrets out of people.”
“If I had placed him here, I would have made him a valet. There is much more to learn in the chambers behind closed doors.”
Indeed there was. Elise had provided all kinds of information from serving Lady Agnes.
He blocked the stack of linens she needed to wash. After dumping her sheet in a rinsing tub, she gestured for him to move. He turned, lifted a towel, and handed it to her.
The water had cooled too much. She wiped her hands on the towel before dumping it in the vat, then strode to the fireplace where water warmed.
Other hands met hers on the big kettle’s handle. Strong ones. “I will do it,” he said.
He lifted the kettle and carried it to the tub and poured it in. He tipped his fingers in to test the temperature. “Too hot. Wait a spell.”
She all but shoved him aside. She plunged her hands in and found the towel.
“Interesting that you mention Andrew. I saw you and him together this morning, out in the garden,” he said. “I assumed you were learning what bits he had overheard. Or else just flirting.”
She had been assessing Andrew to see if he might be a good addition to her enterprise once his short hire here ended. Amiable and not too young, the footman had a manner that put people at ease. “Andrew is not one of my friends, so you were wrong.”
“About his helping your eyes and ears? Or about the flirting?”
She stopped scrubbing and looked at him. No teasing smile. No impish sparks in his eyes. It had been a serious question. A ridiculous notion flew through her mind. He is jealous. She almost laughed at herself for thinking it. Yet, the way he stood there, watching her, waiting for some response . . .
“As a well-born gentleman, you would not understand how servants are informal with each other,” she said. “The best ones watch out for each other too. He insisted the cook give me some time to rest from my chores, and invited me to join him outside to escape.”
Why was she explaining? He had no reason to know, or care. If she had been kissing Andrew it would be none of his business.
“Then I am left to guess who the others are.” He smiled sardonically. “Only you considered how useful additional ears would be. A fine thing, isn’t it? A professional investigator stands before you, and you were more clever than he was.”
She had not confirmed that she had anyone here. If he thought to trick her into doing so, he would be disappointed. She did glow inside at his praise, though. Since she intended to make this her profession too, it was good to have another investigator call her clever.
“If I were truly clever, I would have bribed the family solicitor to spy for me. I can think of no way to eavesdrop on that meeting this afternoon short of that.” She threw the towel in the rinsing tub.
He dropped another linen into her water. “I will be there.”
“Of course.”
“I mean that I can tell you what happens. Not spy as such. Simply pass along some particulars.”
She obscured her surprise by twisting her current linen to wring it out. “Why would you do that?”
“Why not?” He watched the last linen fly to the rinsing tub. “Must you deal with that now?”
“I am due to check the fires up above. Someone else will have to rinse and hang.”
He removed his handkerchief from his pocket and opened it. He took her hand and patted it dry. Then he did the same thing with her other hand. “In the army, when work made hands so raw that the skin cracked and bled, the men would use cooking fats to soothe them. Go to the kitchen and find some. Even if you wipe it off at once, even if you attempt to wash it away, your skin will be protected and will heal faster.”
“Are you really going to tell me what happens at that meeting?”
“If you want me to. It will be no secret since so many will be there. I will pay a call tonight after you return to your house and give you the particulars.”
He had warned her not to have late callers, hadn’t he? Had said men would get ideas if they were allowed over her threshold that late. Yet here he was inviting himself to do just that.
It was no time to get delicate. Chase clearly was conducting an inquiry into the duke’s death. If he convinced the authorities it had been no accident, she fully expected additional inquiries into herself. She might not have much time to find the true culprit behind the duke’s untimely demise.
“I will leave here at nine o’clock,” she said. “If you call at ten, we will talk then.”
“There is only one condition. If I share with you, you must again share with me.”
She nodded, then left him with the laundry. She would find a few bits to give him. She made her way to the kitchen. Cooking fat, he said. She took some while the cook was distracted.
Chapter Eight
“They streamed out of there like their rumps were on fire.” Jeremy regaled his mother and Minerva in the house’s kitchen while they each drank an inch of port. It was a celebration of the end of their duties at Whiteford House. Jeremy’s pay sat on the table in front of him. The stack of coins would be shared with Beth for a bit of personal spending, but Minerva’s pay would go toward household expenses.
It was the understanding that they had made when they joined their fates five years ago. She paid neither of them but she maintained the household. For several years the jewels she sold took care of that. The last year life became more precarious.
Her pay for the last few days did not amount to much, but would help until she could obtain some of the trust’s income. Also, she had returned to find a letter from Mrs. Drable that contained the name of a woman who might be calling to seek out the services of Hepplewhite’s Office of Discreet Inquiries. She hoped so, and not only because it would mean earning some money. She wanted to prove this was an enterprise in which she could succeed.
“None of them looked happy,” Jeremy added. “We were busy for over two hours and received many complaints about the wait. Well, only three of us getting the horses and carriages ready, so it couldn’t all be done at once, could it?”
“Who looked the least happy?” Minerva asked.
“That young one who favors fancy waistcoats. He was not as angry as some of the others, like that dark-haired woman with the deep voice, but he appeared miserable.”