him."
"Hire more runners if you need to. I want this man found, and soon."
"Yes, my lord." Fraser looked down at the file on his desk. "And now to the reason I sent for you." He flipped open the file. "Early this morning, I spoke to Benjamin Morrison."
"The man who took over Colin Norton's duties as solicitor. I spoke to him briefly myself."
"So Morrison said. Apparently, there was something he didn't mention. Perhaps he felt the information was privileged, I don't know. I reminded him he had a duty to the late earl. I told him you had been working very diligently with the authorities to solve the earl's murder and asked if there was anything he knew that might be of help."
"What did he say?"
"He said that he had information that might be useful, but he would discuss it only with you."
Adam's pulse accelerated. "Anything else I should know?"
"Not at present. Perhaps your conversation with Mr. Morrison will provide new information. Unfortunately, the man is out of town for the next several days."
Disappointment filtered through him but only for a moment. Morrison had information. It was more than they'd had before. He shoved back his chair and came to his feet. "Let's hope Morrison will be of help. We certainly need something new to go on."
Fraser walked him to the door of his office. "I'll keep after this, my lord. I won't rest until we've dealt with every possibility."
"Thank you, Fraser. I'll let you know if Morrison gives us anything we can use."
Adam left the office and climbed aboard his phaeton, turning his fine-blooded, dappled gray gelding back toward his town house. He had stacks of paperwork sitting on his desk and more waiting at his solicitor's. Being an earl, he had discovered, came at no little cost.
He was thinking of Jillian and what Morrison might have to say when he walked into the house and Reggie informed him he had a visitor. Howard Telford, newly titled Earl of Fenwick, waited for him in the Gold Room.
"Where is Miss Whitney?" Adam asked.
"She has gone for a walk in the park, milord. She said to tell you she took some bread with her. Said you would know what it meant."
His mouth faintly curved. He was only a little concerned she would run. With no place to go and no money, she was growing more dependent upon him every day.
Which was exactly what he wanted.
"Telford's in the Gold Drawing Room?"
"Right ye are, Major."
Curious and a little surprised, Adam paused in the doorway to survey the blond man pacing in front of the mullioned window. Howard Telford was average in height, early thirties, with a body that was slowly going to fat. He wasn't bad-looking, yet there had always been a certain depth of character that Howard seemed to be lacking.
"Sorry if I kept you waiting," Adam said blandly. "I must have forgotten our appointment." He walked past Telford over to the sideboard. "Care for a brandy?"
"No. And I didn't have an appointment. I've been in the country. I only just got back to town."
Adam lifted the stopper from a cut glass decanter, filled a snifter with brandy, then slid the stopper back into place with a sharp, crystalline ring.
"So why the haste?" He swirled the brandy in his glass. "Your visit obviously isn't social. What can I do for you?"
The thick folds beneath Howard's chin slightly lifted. "It's been brought to my attention that you've become involved with a woman named Jillian Whitney. As she is guilty of murdering my uncle, I should like to know why it is that you are standing between her and the gallows."
Adam sipped his brandy. "Are you well acquainted with Miss Whitney?"
"Well enough."
"And you're completely certain Miss Whitney is the one who shot him?"
Telford's blunt hands fisted. "How can you doubt it? There were witnesses, forgodsake. My uncle's butler, Nigel Atwater, heard them conversing just minutes before the shot rang out. She was standing over the man's body when the butler walked in and she ran when he accused her of the murder. What more
"Hire more runners if you need to. I want this man found, and soon."
"Yes, my lord." Fraser looked down at the file on his desk. "And now to the reason I sent for you." He flipped open the file. "Early this morning, I spoke to Benjamin Morrison."
"The man who took over Colin Norton's duties as solicitor. I spoke to him briefly myself."
"So Morrison said. Apparently, there was something he didn't mention. Perhaps he felt the information was privileged, I don't know. I reminded him he had a duty to the late earl. I told him you had been working very diligently with the authorities to solve the earl's murder and asked if there was anything he knew that might be of help."
"What did he say?"
"He said that he had information that might be useful, but he would discuss it only with you."
Adam's pulse accelerated. "Anything else I should know?"
"Not at present. Perhaps your conversation with Mr. Morrison will provide new information. Unfortunately, the man is out of town for the next several days."
Disappointment filtered through him but only for a moment. Morrison had information. It was more than they'd had before. He shoved back his chair and came to his feet. "Let's hope Morrison will be of help. We certainly need something new to go on."
Fraser walked him to the door of his office. "I'll keep after this, my lord. I won't rest until we've dealt with every possibility."
"Thank you, Fraser. I'll let you know if Morrison gives us anything we can use."
Adam left the office and climbed aboard his phaeton, turning his fine-blooded, dappled gray gelding back toward his town house. He had stacks of paperwork sitting on his desk and more waiting at his solicitor's. Being an earl, he had discovered, came at no little cost.
He was thinking of Jillian and what Morrison might have to say when he walked into the house and Reggie informed him he had a visitor. Howard Telford, newly titled Earl of Fenwick, waited for him in the Gold Room.
"Where is Miss Whitney?" Adam asked.
"She has gone for a walk in the park, milord. She said to tell you she took some bread with her. Said you would know what it meant."
His mouth faintly curved. He was only a little concerned she would run. With no place to go and no money, she was growing more dependent upon him every day.
Which was exactly what he wanted.
"Telford's in the Gold Drawing Room?"
"Right ye are, Major."
Curious and a little surprised, Adam paused in the doorway to survey the blond man pacing in front of the mullioned window. Howard Telford was average in height, early thirties, with a body that was slowly going to fat. He wasn't bad-looking, yet there had always been a certain depth of character that Howard seemed to be lacking.
"Sorry if I kept you waiting," Adam said blandly. "I must have forgotten our appointment." He walked past Telford over to the sideboard. "Care for a brandy?"
"No. And I didn't have an appointment. I've been in the country. I only just got back to town."
Adam lifted the stopper from a cut glass decanter, filled a snifter with brandy, then slid the stopper back into place with a sharp, crystalline ring.
"So why the haste?" He swirled the brandy in his glass. "Your visit obviously isn't social. What can I do for you?"
The thick folds beneath Howard's chin slightly lifted. "It's been brought to my attention that you've become involved with a woman named Jillian Whitney. As she is guilty of murdering my uncle, I should like to know why it is that you are standing between her and the gallows."
Adam sipped his brandy. "Are you well acquainted with Miss Whitney?"
"Well enough."
"And you're completely certain Miss Whitney is the one who shot him?"
Telford's blunt hands fisted. "How can you doubt it? There were witnesses, forgodsake. My uncle's butler, Nigel Atwater, heard them conversing just minutes before the shot rang out. She was standing over the man's body when the butler walked in and she ran when he accused her of the murder. What more
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