Adam studied Joe’s face. Joe was rarely so forthcoming without a reason.
“Wasn’t that explosion an accident?” Lord Edmund looked serious. “A broken barrel left a trail of gunpowder from the dock to the warehouse. Once lit, it exploded the whole warehouse.”
“No, there was more to it.” Aldine squinted, remembering. “One of the workers, seeing a bit of gunpowder and not the whole trail, thought it would be a good joke to light it.”
“That was the newspaper report.” Adam stepped closer to Joe, not wishing for his supervisor to reveal any connection between Adam’s work and Lady Emmeline. “But since everyone on the dock and in the warehouse died, the story is almost certainly a fabrication.”
“We assigned Adam to discover who circulated the story and why.” Joe shook his head. “We thought—still do—that a London criminal, known by the name of Charters, orchestrated the destruction to gain control of the other warehouses, but we can’t prove it. Not then, not now.”
“Charters.” Forster grimaced. “Isn’t that the man who kidnapped . . .”
“Appears to be.” Joe cut the duke off.
“Do you think this Charters has anything to do with Lady Emmeline’s disappearance?” Adam followed Forster’s lead, hoping to direct attention away from his previous stay in Gloucestershire.
“No, no sign of that, no sign at all.” Joe studied Adam for a moment before turning his attention back to Forster. “We can’t imagine Charters has any connection to her ladyship.”
“Lady Emmeline is somewhat of a recluse.” Lord Edmund’s thumb circled the hilt of his ceremonial sword. “She rarely leaves her estate and never without Queen Bess.”
“Queen Bess?” Adam tried to sound confused.
“A Newfoundland dog. Emmeline breeds them.” Lord Edmund looked over the crowd of guests. “It’s one of the reasons we are worried for her.”
“Then you have your solution,” Adam offered. “Can the dog trace her scent?”
“We tried, but the dog simply refused. Jeffreys thinks Bess doesn’t believe her mistress is gone.”
Or Emmeline told her to stay.
“Have you tried all the trunks in the house? I’ve read brides sometimes decide to play hide-and-seek.” Adam tried to sound helpful. “Or perhaps she was stolen away by a daemon lover to faerie land?”
“You have read too many novels,” Lord Edmund chided.
“The dog notwithstanding, we can’t believe that a woman of her intelligence ran away without prior planning,” Joe explained. “But if that’s the case, why wait to run until thirty minutes before the wedding? That’s when Mrs. Burns, the parson’s wife, left her. No, something—or someone—must have arrived to help her.”
Adam forced his face to remain neutral and his shoulders at ease. Joe was a skilled investigator in his own right and the only man in the unit who worked directly with their enigmatic and rarely seen director, Mr. James.
“Reclusive, intelligent, and wealthy.” Forster mulled the words. “Those characteristics could have made her ready game for an unscrupulous person. I worry who she might have enlisted to help her.”
“You fear she may have fallen in with a scoundrel.” Adam used Em’s word, putting on his most serious face.
“Exactly,” Forster confirmed.
“If you want someone to find the missing bride, Adam is your man.” Joe gave Adam’s shoulder an encouraging pat. “He knows this land and its hiding places better than anyone. Through his Home Office work, he has established contacts here and throughout much of Britain.” Joe’s enthusiasm made Adam suspicious. “Besides, any other man I could suggest is hours away. Adam has the advantage of being here already.”
Adam felt his stomach turn cold.
“That’s a brilliant idea,” Lord Edmund interjected. “Lady Emmeline would likely run from any of us Somervilles as if we were Colin himself.”
Forster examined Adam as if he’d never seen him before. “Will you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Find Lady Emmeline.” The three men spoke in unison.
“Are you saying I am the sort of scoundrel Lady Emmeline would find appealing?” Adam raised an eyebrow.
“That’s not quite what I mean.” Forster shook his head.
“Having worked with Adam for the last several years, I can attest that he used to be the best scoundrel among us,” Edmund interjected.
Adam glared at him.
Edmund, grinning, gave a half shrug. “But since he returned from investigating the Nottingham wharf fire, he’s given up all fun and married his work.”
“My uncle died about then.” Adam shifted the timeline to create a different explanation for his change of mood.
“Ah yes.” Edmund nodded sympathetically. “The woes of an inheritance locked in Chancery.”
Forster coughed to refocus the conversation. “As for finding Lady Emmeline . . .”
“Lord Colin isn’t the sort to drag an unwilling woman to the altar.” Adam was surprised at the duke’s insistence, but only partially. Dukes do as they wish.
“No, no. In a year or two, my brother will have reconciled himself to being jilted at the altar.” Forster rubbed his forehead with his hand. “I wish to hire someone to find her, assure that she is safe, and provide her a trustworthy escort to whatever safe haven she wishes. The friendships between our family and hers require at least that much of me.”
“Unfortunately, I have other obligations. I’ve taken a holiday to address some pressing family business,” Adam averred.
“Adam has inherited a houseful of women, but not the means to support them,” Joe explained.
Forster studied Adam more closely. “By your own admission, you have already been searching for her.”
“And you are not merely another Home Office investigator, you are our friend.” Edmund met Adam’s eyes. “We can trust you.”
Adam’s stomach twisted once more. The trap was all around him. If he took the assignment, he could ensure that Forster didn’t hire other men, particularly not experienced investigators like those under Joe’s command. Though Em knew that the duke would likely hire men to find her, she would be furious if she knew he had been hired. Of course, he acknowledged inwardly, Em being angry with him was more the rule than the exception. It only mattered if he thought she might still care for him.
Even so, he had to say no.
“My business is of too demanding a nature to chase after a runaway bride.” Adam pretended to consider the problem. “But Giles Gillfeather is a smart lad, as is Mosely Barnes.”
Joe raised an eyebrow. A misstep, Adam realized too late. He should have recommended more accomplished men.
“What will it take to hire you?” Forster, sounding very much like a duke, folded his arms over his chest.
Adam raised his hands, palms out, refusing the suggestion.
“Adam, how much does your relative want for his part of your disputed inheritance?” Joe chimed in.
“This isn’t the time to discuss my finances.” Adam glared at Joe.
Joe, however, proceeded undeterred. “Adam’s uncle bungled his will, and the relative—a clergyman,