Elizabeth Thornton - [Special Branch 02] by Princess Charming Page A

footman hardly raised an eyebrow.
    It occurred to him that one of the guests on that list was a member of the prime minister’s cabinet. It was possible that Richard would be involved after all.
    He was just about to cross Piccadilly when he halted. After a moment’s hesitation, he turned and began to retrace his steps. He’d have one last look around Sutton Row, he decided, just to make sure Gwyn was all right, and he’d pay the night watch to keep an eye on her house.

Chapter 9
    W hen Gwyn opened the back door, she expected to see her maid with the morning’s
Courier
, but it was a young man who stood on her doorstep—a laborer or tradesman by the look of him. He was carrying a dirty leather toolbag.
    “A ’m ’ere about the plaster work,” he said.
    “Plaster work?”
    He looked at a scrap of paper in his hand. “Mrs. Barrie?”
    “Yes.”
    “Then I’ve got the right ’ouse.”
    Gwyn made the connection then. “I didn’t ask the landlord to fix the plaster. It’s the roof that needs fixing. There’s a leak in the attic and now it’s seeping into one of the bedrooms.”
    The young man looked nonplussed. “I don’t know nothing about that,” he said. “I was told to look over the plaster and tell my gaffer ’ow much the job would cost.”
    “Can’t you fix the roof first?”
    “ ’Ardly. That ain’t my trade. But I’ll let my gaffer know, and ’e can talk to your landlord.”
    Gwyn opened the door wider. “Come in. You’re right about the plaster. There are cracks in some ofthe rooms. But I do wish Mr. Pritchard would do something about the roof. Until it’s fixed, there’s no point in doing the plaster.”
    She ushered him into the back vestibule, then shut and locked the door. “What is your name?”
    “ ’Arry.” He was already running an expert eye over the hairline cracks in the ceiling. “I’ll ’ave to look over every room, but there won’t be no mess, not today. All I’ll be doing is appraising the job.”
    “Then you’d better start in the front parlor, Harry,” said Gwyn, leading the way, “before my next student arrives.”
    “When will that be?”
    “In five minutes or so.”
    She thought of something else. “Was it you who came to my house three nights ago? Did Mr. Pritchard send you?”
    He shook his head. “No, not me.”
    It didn’t matter. Mr. Pritchard might have sent someone else and hadn’t mentioned it to Harry.
    He seemed to know what he was doing, so Gwyn left him alone and went back to the kitchen. Mark was at the table, his back to the fire, with books, pencils, and papers set out for the morning’s lessons. He was almost finished with the sheet of sums she had carefully copied out right after breakfast.
    When she said his name, he looked up. “About this afternoon,” she began carefully.
    His eyes lit up. “I know. It’s Saturday, and you’re going to take me to Gunther’s for an ice.”
    “And I will. But you remember I said I had to meet with Cousin Jason and Mr. Armstrong, the attorney?”
    Mark nodded. “To sign some papers.”
    She hadn’t told Mark all the details about the legacy, just in case something went wrong. “Well, the thing is, the only time Mr. Armstrong can see us is this afternoon.”
    The light in his eyes dimmed. “Aren’t you going to take me with you? It is Saturday.”
    She looked at his expectant face and couldn’t bring herself to say that he was to stay at home with Maddie. Saturday afternoons were always reserved for doing things together. “I suppose it would be all right.”
    “Maybe Cousin Jason will let me drive in his curricle.”
    “He may not have it with him. And anyway, you’re not to ask, Mark.”
    “I won’t have to. He promised I could ride in it again.”
    She didn’t know how to answer this. Promises, to Mark, had the force of sacred vows, which was why she rarely promised him anything. “He may have forgotten,” she said.
    “No, not Cousin Jason,” he replied, as though