Page 93 of The Duke and Lady Scandal
With the little gold filigree magnifying glass, she tried to make out what was written on the pieces of paper in one of the photographs.
“Do you have your little notebook?”
“Of course.” Jo was in the habit of carrying far too many things in her skirt pockets, but she was almost never without a tiny notepad in a pretty etched metal case with a little dangling pencil attached by a chain.
“Write these letters down.”
Jo dutifully extracted her notepad, flicked it open, and positioned the tiny pencil above a pristine page.
“I see aDand anM.” Allie adjusted the magnifying glass. “What’s that, do you think?”
Jo took another look. “A clock face. It appears to be an advertisement for a clock or a watch.”
Allie frowned. “Why would that be in the safe?”
“Isn’t Mr. Gibson a repairer of clocks and watches?” Jo mused. “Perhaps it’s from some magazine about watch repair.”
“I think the letters must mean something,” Allie insisted.
“I suppose they do, but you cannot solve this case for him.” Jo laid a hand on Allie’s. “I know you wish to help. But let’s do something diverting. Something that will make you feel better.”
Allie managed not to blurt that what would truly satisfy her would be assisting to bring thecase to a successful end. Somewhere, in the most wistful corner of her heart, she hoped that if the case were at an end, life would go back to the few perfect days she’d had with Ben.
Jo chafed her hand. “Tell me what would cheer you.”
“I’d like to go to Princes,” she admitted. “I know it’s only been a couple of days, but I feel that I should be there. I miss it.”
“Then Princes it is.” Jo smiled and stood, pulling Allie along with her. “Let me take you in my carriage.” She cast a glance toward the front window. “We can make room for that handsome constable too.”
Allie groaned. She’d almost forgotten about Collier.
“You needn’t accompany me if you have other engagements.”
“Nonsense. I have none but to cheer you. Though there is some Christmas shopping I need to do on Bond Street, so I’ll stay out of your way for a bit.”
“Thank you.” The prospect of returning to the shop did make Allie’s bruised heart feel a tiny bit lighter.
Ben loathed the taste of whiskey.
It reminded him of the man his mother had taken up with, and that man’s rages and fists. It reminded him of how volatile George became after a glass or two.
He’d never seen it do any good. It made men boisterous and often violent.
But last night he’d craved it, and he’d recalled that Helen kept a bottle for medicinal purposes and poured himself a glass. Now, somehow, yesterday had merged into today, and the bottle was nearly empty.
He understood why others found solace in it.
It sheared the edges off pain and blurred reason. And memory. The first glass had filled his mind with a kind of idealistic warmth. He could almost believe that the world was a good place.
The second glass allowed him to think that he could make amends with Alexandra, and then make a life with her. It wouldn’t matter where he’d come from, and she’d disregard his darkness. She’d love him despite all that. And he’d love her for all the magnificent things she was.
He’d cheer her as she wrote lady pirate books, and he’d spend hours with her poring over marriage and death and birth certificates if she wished it. They’d take the journeys she’d never been able to as a child.
In a whiskey haze, anything felt possible. But hours had passed since his last glass, and his logical mind had punched through his liquor-tinged dreams to remind him that life wasn’t that kind.
At a rustle against the front door, he had the wild thought that it might be Alexandra. Not entirely sober, apparently.
But soon he recognized his sister’s footsteps. He winced at her reaction when she saw the state of him and realized that he’d downed her whiskey.
