Page 65 of The Detective and the Baroness

The doorbell chimed, and Mitchell stood. “I will get it.”

“It is probably Jeffery. He did say in his telegram he would be coming here right from the train station,” Corrine said.

Drew stood as well. “I will leave you to visit with your brother.”

“No, please. I want you both to stay for now,” Corrine insisted.

Drew sat again, and Mitchell headed down the hall to the entrance. He opened the door, and a young man holding a valise stood on the stoop.

“Mr. Edgeworth?”

“Yes. And you must be Sergeant Simpson.”

Mitchell stepped aside. “Come in. Your sister is anxious to see you.”

Edgeworth swiped snowflakes from his shoulder before stepping inside. “How is she doing?” he murmured.

“Keeping a brave face. Corrine is a courageous woman.”

Her brother gave him a side glance when he mentioned her first name. “Yes, she is. More than I ever realized.”

“Let me take your coat and hat. You can place your case there on the hall tree seat.” After he hung Edgeworth’s coat and hat on the hook, he led him down the hall to the sitting room. When Edgeworth entered the room, Corrine came to her feet.

“Jeffery!” Corrine ran to her younger brother’s open arms. He enveloped her in a comforting embrace.

“I am so sorry, Corri. So very sorry.” Edgeworth’s voice shook on the last words.

Mitchell and Drew exchanged looks. This was decidedly a private family moment. Perhaps they shouldn’t be here after all. But Corrine stepped back and swiped the tear trickling down her cheek. “Jeffery, I want you to meet my good friends. Detective Sergeant Mitchell Simpson and Doctor Drew Hornsby.”

The men exchanged handshakes. “Hornsby?” Edgeworth questioned. “Related to the Duke of Gransford?”

“Yes,” Drew replied. “He is my uncle. Viscount Hawkestone is my father.”

“Jeffery, sit here on the sofa near the fire. You must be chilled to the bone. How about a brandy, or would you prefer scotch?” She chuckled. “Listen to me. As if I am the lady of the house.” Corrine smiled.

“Well, you are,” Drew replied. “What can I get you, Mr. Edgeworth?”

“A brandy sounds perfect,” he replied, sitting on the sofa beside his sister. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Drew handed Edgeworth a snifter and then sat in the chair opposite him. Mitchell sat next to Drew. There was a small table between them, and since they already had their drinks, Mitchell picked up his tumbler of scotch and took a sip.

Corrine sighed. “I’m not sure where to begin. I was at dinner with Drew and Mitchell at The Crowing Cock—” Corrine went on to tell her brother of finding Travis dead, the injured man, and what they had discovered at the solicitor, as well as the fact that there was an heir.

“I cannot believe this. And Travis did not know about the Irishman until a week ago?” Edgeworth said incredulously. “Where does that leave you?”

“Not as well off as before. We will have to tighten our belts. But that is a discussion for another time. I need to tell you about Father and the loan.”

Drew and Mitchell stood. “On that note,” Mitchell said, “We will leave you alone. Mr. Edgeworth, we have sandwiches left over from afternoon tea. Would you like some?”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

Drew left the room. Mitchell hesitated, then laid his hand on Corrine’s shoulder, and squeezed it in consolation and affection. She looked up at him and smiled. God, how he loved her. He departed and closed the door behind him.

*

After Drew delivered the platter of sandwiches, he left them alone. Jeffery grabbed one and ate it. “There is something between you and Simpson,” Jeffery said, “More than friendship.”

“There is—now. But that is not up for discussion. Mitchell did, however, follow Father several days ago. Right to the home of our father’s mistress.”