Page 91 of An Unwilling Earl
“We’re to meet a Detective O’Leary,” Jacob said.
“O’Leary,” she repeated, her nerves doubling down and causing havoc in her stomach.
“Armbruster and I have known him for a few years. He’s a decent chap.”
She stopped to look at him in surprise. “How do you and Lord Armbruster know a Scotland Yard detective?”
Jacob looked away and shifted from one foot to the other. Charlotte suddenly got an uneasy feeling that he was hiding something from her.
“Jacob?” Her voice wavered.
“It’s nothing like that,” he said quickly. “Armbruster and I… We have a hobby. I guess you could call it a hobby.”
That uneasy feeling in her grew.
“It started with the woman who killed her husband to be with her lover,” he said.
She untangled her arm from his and stepped back, her heart hammering. Good Lord, he’d killed someone?
“No, no,” he said, reaching for her then dropping his hand to his side. “Oh, bugger it. I’m completely saying this wrong. Armbruster and I like to read the daily newspapers and try to solve the crimes. Not—” He held up a hand to stop her from speaking, but she had no words to speak. He was making no sense.
“We don’t go out and do any sleuthing on our own. Just armchair deliberating, while drinking port at our club. It was more like…” He seemed to consider something. “Like examining the psyche of criminals. Fascinating observations that might lead to clues to why a person does what he does and maybe a few observations that could solve the crimes. I can’t remember exactly when we met O’Leary. We’ve helped him on a few cases. Just ideas and such that he and his colleagues hadn’t thought of.”
“You’re a detective?” she finally asked, not following this convoluted story.
“Nothing like that. Just an amateur sleuth and that is being generous.”
“So that is how you know Detective O’Leary?”
“Yes. He’s become a friend.”
She felt marginally better, she guessed. She still wasn’t sure about the amateur sleuth thing, but she would take his word for it.
He took her arm to lead her up the steps. “Honestly, Charlotte, what Armbruster and I do is nothing serious. Just something to pass the time while we drink port.”
“It sounds fascinating and a bit frightening—delving into a person’s psyche to figure out why he does what he does.”
“It’s nothing scientific. Just observations we have from time to time. Like how you and I discussed Edmund.”
They were now at the front doors, and she hesitated.
“This is for the best,” Jacob said, as if sensing her nervousness. “We need to move on with our lives without the shadow of Edmund.”
“I just didn’t realize how nervous it would make me.”
They made their way into the building and told the man at the front desk that they had an appointment with Detective O’Leary. Wordlessly he pointed them in the right direction. The building was teeming with the blue-coated, tall-hatted men who comprised the London police department. None of them gave Charlotte or Jacob a second look as they made their way down the halls and stairwells to the detectives.
Detective O’Leary was a smiling man with red hair, freckles, and thick forearms. His eyelashes were so light as to be almost nonexistent. He shook hands with Jacob, and they talked for a few moments about some case that Armbruster and Jacob had helped him with.
“I would like you to meet my wife, Lady Ashland.”
Charlotte started at her title. Good Lord, in such a short time she had gone from a vagrant to a countess. She would laugh if the situation weren’t so serious.
Detective O’Leary nodded to her. “My lady. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you, Detective.”
They sat, and O’Leary folded his hands on the top of his desk and smiled at them. “I’ll admit that I’m curious about this meeting.”
