Page 84 of A Modest Independence

Giles had had no more thought for her beauty and character than he did for the next young lady. She was merely an entertaining diversion while he was home on leave and restless from the tediousness of his obligations.

You deserve better than a fellow like me, he’d written in his final letter.

And she had deserved better. She still did. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t acknowledge his attributes, such that they were.

“Ah, yes,” the reverend said. “Captain Lord Castleton.”

Jenny brightened with expectation. “You knew him?”

“I met him briefly some years ago. A charming fellow. I was grieved to hear of his death.” He folded the daguerreotype case and handed it back to Jenny. “As for anything more…I’m sorry to disappoint you, ma’am. You would do better to speak with Sir Eustace.”

Her countenance sobered as she returned the case to her reticule. “I didn’t truly expect he’d know anything,” she admitted as she and Tom left the church. “Still, it is rather disheartening.”

Tom was oddly quiet.

She looked up at him. “What is it?”

“I’ve seen him before,” he said.

“Reverend Proudfoot?”

“Giles.”

“What?” Jenny’s eyes flew to his. “When? You never said so.”

“Eight or nine years ago. I hadn’t a name to put to the face.”

Her steps slowed. If not for the soldiers all about them, she’d have stopped right in the middle of the curving avenue that led toward the Deputy Adjutant General’s office. As it was, she could only sink her voice. “Under what circumstances did you meet?”

“We didn’t meet. Not formally. He came to the office in Fleet Street along with another young society gentleman. They were in the way of being moral support to a third young man who was demanding to see Fothergill. He was the son of one of the parties to a case of ours.”

“Your client?”

“No.” Tom’s jaw hardened. “Our adversary.”

“Heavens.”

“The case only just settled the day you came to see me in Fleet Street.”

Jenny blinked in surprise. “The land dispute? My goodness. It is a small world.” She hesitated. “What did you make of him?”

“The encounter didn’t last long enough for me to form a set opinion. We never spoke. It was Fothergill they were focused on. I was likely discounted as being no more important than a clerk. It’s doubtful he’d even remember seeing me.”

“At this rate, we’ll never know what Giles remembers.”

“You’re not giving up already?”

“Hardly.” She stiffened her spine. “I still have hopes that Sir Eustace might tell us something new.”

But much to Jenny’s disappointment, the meeting with Sir Eustace proved no more illuminating than their meeting with the chaplain. A jovial gentleman with thinning hair and an impressive black mustache, he was all things civil to them, offering them tea in his office and regaling them with anecdotes. However, when it came to the fate of the missing earl, he was of no help at all.

“As I informed Mr. Treadway, Colonel Anstruther is the fellow you should be speaking with.”

Jenny blinked. “Mr. Treadway?”

“Thornhill’s inquiry agent,” Tom supplied.

“Quite right.” Sir Eustace nodded. “I received a letter from the man some months ago. As I explained to him in my reply, it was Anstruther who witnessed Lord Castleton’s death. If it’s a firsthand account you’re after—”