“The locksmiths we use—Moreton and Sons, down the street—is a sound firm,” Hinckley said.
Sophy nodded. “We’ll go there immediately.”
When she looked at Martin, he said, “I’ll accompany you.” To ensure they got different locks and keys for every last door and gate. “Do you have a tally of how many locks you need?”
She waved toward the office. “Harvey can make one. Hector”—she glanced at her groom-cum-guard—“please ask Harvey to make up a list immediately. We’ll go to the locksmith’s as soon as it’s ready.”
“Yes, miss.” Hector bobbed and headed for the office.
Sophy looked around the rest of the group. “Thank you for your help. I’ll organize for the new locks to be installed as soon as possible and, of course, will hand out the keys.”
Hinckley caught Martin’s eye, and Martin fractionally nodded in reply. He would go with her and make sure everything possible was done to guarantee the security of the site.
* * *
After organizing with the locksmith to have all the locks changed—a process that had taken more than an hour—Sophy headed back to the works. Martin walked beside her, and as usual, Hector trailed behind.
Purple shadows were lengthening and the temperature was falling as the sun dipped toward the moorland to the west of the town, and evening approached on gentle feet.
Looking toward the works, she said, “This business of the accidents—the threat they pose—has become much more real over the past days.”
She sensed rather than saw Martin nod.
“That’s because the accidents have escalated in seriousness and are coming more frequently, and you and the men have recognized them for the attacks they are and are taking action.”
Largely thanks to you.
Even at the locksmith’s, she doubted she, alone, would have achieved the right outcome—the best type of lock for each location and the correct number of keys for each—had he not been standing beside her, asking what had proved to be just the right questions to steer her and the locksmith to the optimal decisions.
He’d been subtle about it, but she’d noticed and had been far too grateful to refuse his help.
Freely offered help. No matter his rationalization regarding his continuing interest in offering for the works, she got the impression his assistance had no limits, that she could rely on him and his agile brain to remain at her service until the threat was properly dealt with and, indeed, eradicated.
Quite where that certainty came from, she couldn’t have said, but it was there, quite solid and clear in her mind.
“Do you have any plans for the evening?” A bold question, but she was past standing on any sort of ceremony with him. Being seized and wrapped in his arms had, apparently, vaporized all the usual social barriers; increasingly, she’d been treating him—and thinking of him—as someone she’d known for years.
As someone she’d trusted for years, which, on reflection, was truly strange.
“No plans as such. Just dinner at the Kings Head.”
“In that case”—she didn’t stop to think—“come and dine informally with Aunt Julia and me in Portobello Street.” She flicked him a glance. “Come as you are. We don’t dress for dinner when it’s just us. After all your exertions on my and the works’ behalf today, the least I can do is treat you to a good dinner.”
He smiled and inclined his head. “Thank you. I accept.” His eyes met hers, an amused twinkle in the caramel depths. “Besides, something might occur to one of us, and it would be useful to be able to discuss it in more relaxed surroundings.”
He can’t read minds, can he?She narrowed her eyes on his, then humphed and looked ahead.
They returned to the office just as the whistle sounded its three short blasts, signaling the end of the working day. Harvey confirmed that there was nothing urgent awaiting her attention, and she and Martin followed Harvey and Mildred out of the door and onto the pavement.
After farewelling the other two, she and Martin walked to Rockingham Street, then down to Portobello Street.
As they neared her door, Martin murmured, “Your aunt strikes me as the sort to grow anxious, regardless of reassurances. It might be wise to save any discussion of the current situation at the works until after dinner, when hopefully, she’ll be less inclined to pay unrelenting attention.”
“Indeed. I truly would prefer not to unnecessarily exercise Julia’s worrying tendencies.”
With that decided, the following hours passed much as she’d hoped. On entering the house with her and Hector, Martin set himself to beguile Julia with his ready charm, and he, she, and her aunt enjoyed a pleasant, cordial, and surprisingly relaxed meal.
After Martin denied any wish for spirits, they returned to the drawing room, and as Sophy had hoped, Julia settled in her favorite armchair by the fire and picked up her tatting. Knowing that, once her aunt was absorbed with her craft, she had to be specifically called should her attention be required, Sophy shared a conspiratorial look with Martin, then claimed one of a pair of armchairs set back from the hearth and waved him to the other.
