Read Online The Peculiar Case of Lord Finsbury's Diamonds: A Casebook of Barnaby Adair Short Novel (The Casebook of Barnaby Adair) by Stephanie Laurens - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stephanie Laurens
Tags: Historical Romance
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house was the perfect size for them and the family they hoped to have, and it was located just around the corner from Griselda’s shop, so she could easily keep her finger on the pulse there while managing her new household.
Smiling, she listened to the sounds of the house settling around them. She’d yet to grow accustomed to the different creaks and squeaks.
Relaxed and deeply content, she waited for sleep to claim her.
And as so often happened when she let her mind roam free, it went around and around, working through the puzzle most recently placed before her, in this case Stokes’s latest investigation.
Something—Stokes never knew what it was, yet it never failed to alert him—told him Griselda was awake. Rousing himself from the clinging fogs of sleep, he opened one eye and squinted at her face. Yes, she was awake; she was staring up at the ceiling. “What is it?” His voice was a low rumble even to his ears. “Do you need me to fetch something?”
“No.” She glanced at him, lips curving gently in appreciation of the offer. “But I’ve just realized there’s something you haven’t put on your list to investigate—an angle we haven’t considered.”
He blinked; now fully awake, he came up on one elbow the better to see her face. “What?” He’d long ago learned to pay due attention to such insights; there was a reason two heads—or in his and Barnaby’s case, four—were better than one. Or even two.
“Consider this. Mitchell left Finsbury Court two days before he returned. He either left with the diamonds in his pocket or he picked them up while he was in London. Setting aside the questions of why he had them and why he was bringing them back to Gwendolyn Finsbury, what did he do during those intervening days in town? Is there any way of learning where he went and what he did? Because, if so, we might then be in a better position to learn the answers to all our questions about the diamonds.”
Stokes thought, then nodded. “That’s an excellent point. It might not be easy to trace Mitchell’s movements but it’s worth at least trying to see if we can winkle out any leads…I’ll put O’Donnell on to it tomorrow.”
“Good.” Griselda settled and, her features smoothing, closed her eyes.
Stokes stayed where he was, looking down at her, watching her face as sleep claimed her. She slept, content and happy, beside him every night, and just the thought, that simple fact, still held the power to shake him—to make him feel so much, an eruption of pure emotion.
Add in the fact that she was carrying his child and his heart simply overflowed.
He drank in the moment, savored it—a private moment of unalloyed joy—then he slid back down in the bed, settled beside her and his child, and closed his eyes.
CHAPTER 4
A s soon as he reached Scotland Yard the following morning, Stokes sent for Sergeant O’Donnell. The man had worked under him on several cases and was one of those officers on Stokes’s list for co-opting. O’Donnell’s particular talent lay in appearing unremarkable, and he was thus very effective in extracting information while working out of uniform.
O’Donnell was quick to present himself at Stokes’s office door. “You wanted me, sir?”
Stokes waved him in. “I have to spend the day at the Old Bailey, but the murder I was called out to yesterday has a victim whose recent movements I would dearly like to know.” Succinctly, he outlined what they knew of Mitchell’s journey back to town and his subsequent return to Finsbury Court. “I know it won’t be easy, and may be a complete waste of time, but I’d like you to see if you can glean any hint of where Mitchell went when he returned to town. Where did he stay, who with, and did he go anywhere else before getting back on the coach to Hampstead two days later?”
O’Donnell snapped off a salute. “I’ll give it my best shot, sir.”
Stokes hid a grin. If
Smiling, she listened to the sounds of the house settling around them. She’d yet to grow accustomed to the different creaks and squeaks.
Relaxed and deeply content, she waited for sleep to claim her.
And as so often happened when she let her mind roam free, it went around and around, working through the puzzle most recently placed before her, in this case Stokes’s latest investigation.
Something—Stokes never knew what it was, yet it never failed to alert him—told him Griselda was awake. Rousing himself from the clinging fogs of sleep, he opened one eye and squinted at her face. Yes, she was awake; she was staring up at the ceiling. “What is it?” His voice was a low rumble even to his ears. “Do you need me to fetch something?”
“No.” She glanced at him, lips curving gently in appreciation of the offer. “But I’ve just realized there’s something you haven’t put on your list to investigate—an angle we haven’t considered.”
He blinked; now fully awake, he came up on one elbow the better to see her face. “What?” He’d long ago learned to pay due attention to such insights; there was a reason two heads—or in his and Barnaby’s case, four—were better than one. Or even two.
“Consider this. Mitchell left Finsbury Court two days before he returned. He either left with the diamonds in his pocket or he picked them up while he was in London. Setting aside the questions of why he had them and why he was bringing them back to Gwendolyn Finsbury, what did he do during those intervening days in town? Is there any way of learning where he went and what he did? Because, if so, we might then be in a better position to learn the answers to all our questions about the diamonds.”
Stokes thought, then nodded. “That’s an excellent point. It might not be easy to trace Mitchell’s movements but it’s worth at least trying to see if we can winkle out any leads…I’ll put O’Donnell on to it tomorrow.”
“Good.” Griselda settled and, her features smoothing, closed her eyes.
Stokes stayed where he was, looking down at her, watching her face as sleep claimed her. She slept, content and happy, beside him every night, and just the thought, that simple fact, still held the power to shake him—to make him feel so much, an eruption of pure emotion.
Add in the fact that she was carrying his child and his heart simply overflowed.
He drank in the moment, savored it—a private moment of unalloyed joy—then he slid back down in the bed, settled beside her and his child, and closed his eyes.
CHAPTER 4
A s soon as he reached Scotland Yard the following morning, Stokes sent for Sergeant O’Donnell. The man had worked under him on several cases and was one of those officers on Stokes’s list for co-opting. O’Donnell’s particular talent lay in appearing unremarkable, and he was thus very effective in extracting information while working out of uniform.
O’Donnell was quick to present himself at Stokes’s office door. “You wanted me, sir?”
Stokes waved him in. “I have to spend the day at the Old Bailey, but the murder I was called out to yesterday has a victim whose recent movements I would dearly like to know.” Succinctly, he outlined what they knew of Mitchell’s journey back to town and his subsequent return to Finsbury Court. “I know it won’t be easy, and may be a complete waste of time, but I’d like you to see if you can glean any hint of where Mitchell went when he returned to town. Where did he stay, who with, and did he go anywhere else before getting back on the coach to Hampstead two days later?”
O’Donnell snapped off a salute. “I’ll give it my best shot, sir.”
Stokes hid a grin. If
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