A Lady in Hiding Read Online Free Page B

eyes before he blinked and caught William’s gaze again. “This major had information about it. I want to know what.”
    “Wouldn’t it be better if you conducted your own inquiries?” William asked.
    Five pounds would not cover his expenses. Mr. Gaunt would not be pleased, either. However, William was bored, and he had a small income of his own. He wasn’t averse to spending a few shillings if the prospect was intriguing enough.
    Murder was oft-times of compelling interest.
    There was also the lure of finally showing that he had an ounce or two of brain matter, which most of his acquaintances laughingly refused to acknowledge.
    “I thought this place belonged to a gent named Mr. Gaunt,” Mr. Sanderson asked in an abrupt change of subject. “Do you work for him?”
    William’s mouth twisted wryly. “We are associates.”
    “Then you work for him. Perhaps you don’t have the authority to take on new cases? Where is Mr. Gaunt?”
    So his client was sharper than his appearance suggested.
    William revised his previous favorable opinion of Mr. Sanderson downward as his voice hardened with the steel snap of determination. “Mr. Gaunt is away. On another case. I assure you, I have complete discretion in the matter of accepting new cases.”
    “Then you’re afraid?” There was something in his tone that suggested what he really meant was that he thought William was an idiot.
    “I beg your pardon?” William asked, forcing his face into a bland mask as his annoyance blistered with low-burning anger.
    “Well, you’re dithering, aren’t you?” Sanderson asked.
    He wanted to reply that it wasn’t the danger in trying to find a killer that bothered him. It was the ridiculously low payment Mr. Sanderson offered.
    However, when William gazed into those gray eyes, he found his anger ebbing and flowing away into sheepishness.
    Only a low cit would haggle over money when someone obviously needed help.
    The lurking fear in Sanderson’s gray eyes stirred a deep sense of gallantry in William.
    Mr. Sanderson stood and thrust his hand out. “If you can’t make up your mind, then I’ve no need of your services. Good night to you, sir.”
    William waved at the chair. “Sit down. I never said I wouldn’t take your case.”
    “But you don’t want to, do you?” His shaggy head lifted at the sound of bells in the distance. “And I am missing my supper.”
    “In fact, I do,” William said, leaning forward and clasping his hands on the desk. “Now, let’s start again and never mind your supper.” After another glance at Mr. Sanderson’s thin face, he reached back to pull a bell rope dangling down in the corner behind him.
    When Sotheby answered, William ordered a tray with a suitable meal for the both of them. Sotheby’s prim mouth pursed at the request, but he departed without lowering himself to the indignity of argument.
    Facing his client, William found the young man had remained standing. He waved again at him to sit and grew impatient when Sanderson studied him thoughtfully before complying.
    “Then start,” Sanderson said with startling frankness. “What do you want to know?”
    Nonplussed, William stared back before forcing a smile. “Tell me about the fire. That is as good a place to begin as any.”
    “I can only tell you what I remember,” Mr. Sanderson replied. “And that isn’t much. If I could remember everything, I wouldn’t need you, now, would I?”
    William didn’t reply, thinking the remark fairly undeserving of any direct acknowledgement. After a suppressed sigh, he said, “Since you do appear to need me, I recommend you provide me with some information. And do so now—if it isn’t too much trouble.”
    As William waited, Sanderson shifted in his seat. Then the lad reluctantly raised one hand to pull back the ragged brown hair hanging over his forehead. On the left temple, an old star-shaped scar puckered the skin.
    “Yes, it appears I do need your services.” Sanderson’s brows