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“To tread carefully,” he replied. “Though I don’t know if the order was directed at me or you.”

“Probably both,” she presumed.

Silence grew between them, and as it did, their earlier argument regarding Andrew Carter came to mind again. Leo didn’t want to discuss it, as she didn’t wish to quarrel with him. To prevent Jasper from broaching the topic, she stayed focused on Sebastian Lawlor.

“Mr. Lawlor, if that is his real name, has certainly pulled the wool over his wife’s eyes,” she commented. “It makes me wonder if he has had some practice at this sort of deceit before. And if Mr. Gray does turn out to be an imposter, perhaps the two of them have a history of working together as partners.”

Jasper drummed his fingers on the crown of his black bowler. “That would explain Lawlor’s thoroughness in taking the photographs from the house. And in deciding upon a surname and business that was already established. The trip to the antiquities shop had to have been well coordinated.”

“It was a nefarious scheme,” Leo agreed. “But this type of marriage ploy could be easily replicated.”

She considered it: A handsome man approaches a wealthy, unmarried woman, someone who never expected to marry. He charms her into falling in love, and after they marry, he begins to slowly poison her, making it look like ill health is claiming her. Once he is a widower, he receives the entirety of the woman’s wealth. That would include property that he could sell, if it wasn’t entailed. Augusta’s property was surely worth far more than the one thousand pounds taken from the floor safe.

Why would Sebastian rush away? Why disappear before the con was seen through to its end?

“We need to find his past victims,” Leo said. “If, of course, they exist.”

“A family member might have lodged a complaint.” Jasper shrugged. “But if he selects his victims carefully, he wouldn’t make the mistake of choosing someone who has family.”

He would select a woman like Augusta.

“If he targets wealthy women,” Leo said, “their deaths would be reported in the gossip rags.”

She sometimes read the society pages in the newspapers, if only out of curiosity—although, she avoided the Times. It was petty of her, she knew, but Constance Hayes was a typist there, and though she had no byline, Leo was aware she typed those columns.

“Can you recall anything?” Jasper asked. He was thinking of her photographic memory, and even as she answered, “I’ll work on it,” she was busily shuffling through her mind’s endless images of society pages that might have mentioned the death of a newly married heiress.

“I’ll put PC Mills on it when he and Warnock return from the Central Bank. They were bringing a warrant there this morning to see if the Lawlor accounts have been cleared out.”

As they entered Trafalgar Square, Jasper sat forward. Before he even spoke, she knew what he was going to say. “Leo. About earlier⁠—”

“Unless you are going to tell me what it is Andrew Carter wants, I don’t wish to talk about it.” It was brusque and a bit harsh, but it was how she felt. She also didn’t want to argue again.

Jasper sat back, his mouth a firm line.

The carriage drew up to the morgue on Spring Street, and she reached to open the door. Jasper caught her wrist.

“I don’t want us at odds, Leo.”

She didn’t want that, either. But she was also too perturbed to make amends right then.

“Have dinner with me tonight.” His whispered request danced along her spine and curled around her heart. She longed to forget their dispute and simply bask in his affection. If she were to dine with him, perhaps at his home, they could spend time alone afterward in his study. The temptation was nearly physical. Gracious, her attraction to him was becoming unruly.

“I’ll accept,” she said, “if you’ll reconsider and tell me what Andrew Carter wants from you.”

Jasper grimaced. “No.”

She pulled her wrist free. “Then, I believe I will spend the evening with Uncle Claude and Aunt Flora. I’ve been remiss in spending time with them lately, anyhow.”

Disappointment doused her as Jasper opened the carriage door, descended, and then helped her down. He appeared conflicted for a moment but then shook his head.

“We’ll speak later, then.”

She didn’t trust herself not to take back her decision and agree to dine with him, so she bid him a good day and rushed to enter the morgue.

Chapter Seven

Jasper flexed his hands, enjoying the dull ache of bruised knuckles. He’d lasted a few rounds in the boxing ring, and though he and his opponent were evenly matched, the man had a particularly hard jaw and a torso like metal plating. Not to mention a left hook that felt more like a ship’s anchor sailing up out of the water to collide with his chin.