was definitely a professional, Adrian grudgingly conceded again. Whatever she was thinking or feeling, she didn’t reveal it.
“As you may know, my brother is George Jenkinson, the product of my father’s union with his second wife.” The prime minister stood and began to pace. “My brother is not involved in politics and had no known enemies. On the night of the murder, I was summoned from bed at approximately four in the morning and called to the Jenkinson household. Jenkinson’s valet, Callows, had discovered my brother’s body. We estimate that George had been dead about an hour when Callows found him.”
Adrian found himself nodding. Liverpool was calm and lucid. Though the death of his brother must be a difficult topic to discuss, the prime minister did it with clarity and brevity.
“I do not have to tell you murder is almost always grim and shocking, but this was far beyond shocking. This was—” He stumbled slightly. Adrian saw him clench his hands into tight fists. Liverpool was intent on keeping hold of his emotions.
The prime minister swallowed loudly. “The way my brother was killed. T-the state of his body was”—he shuddered and turned away—“gruesome. I want to know why he was killed thus and by whom.” Liverpool turned back, his features once again a mask of composure. They might have been discussing the weather.
There was a long moment of silence as Liverpool paused, possibly to allow the information to sink in. Sophia raised a tentative finger.
“Yes, Lady Smythe. You may speak now.”
“My lord, I am dreadfully sorry for your loss. I had heard something about this affair, but I thought the matter had been turned over to Bow Street.”
Adrian saw where she was going and had to agree. As much as he wanted a new assignment, this was not what he had been trained for. “We are spies, my lord, not murder investigators.”
“This is not to imply that solving your brother’s murder is not important and necessary, but…” She glanced at Adrian, silently asking for help.
It was a strange feeling, to share the same side as Sophia. Until tonight, he’d never considered her an enemy, but she hadn’t been an ally, either. Now it appeared they actually agreed on something: this was not a case for a member of the Barbican group. It was… amateur.
But he wasn’t giving up entirely. “My lord, perhaps there is an international matter in which I”—Sophia glared at him; he ignored her—“could assist you?”
The prime minister crossed his arms.
“A dangerous double agent?” Adrian suggested. “A code to be cracked?”
The prime minister sighed and looked at the ceiling.
“An arms smuggler? An…” Adrian trailed off.
Liverpool looked back at him. “I am aware you are probably overqualified for this task. Bow Street thought it would be an easy case as well, and they have yet to solve it. I am also aware both of you were highly regarded operatives for the Barbican group, but might I also point out that you are both out of work operatives.”
Adrian winced. Liverpool had a point there.
“I had hoped you might take this case purely as a favor to me.” The prime minister glanced at Sophia, and Adrian wondered again at their relationship. “But I am prepared to offer compensation.”
Sophia looked up from the hands she’d clenched in her lap. “We don’t want your money.”
Adrian nodded agreement.
“I wouldn’t dream of offering it,” Liverpool said icily. “But what about reinstatement into your precious Barbican group?”
“I thought the group was being disbanded,” Adrian said.
“Severely reduced in number but not disbanded.”
Adrian clenched his fists. Melbourne hadn’t mentioned this small fact to him. And no wonder, as it would have been even more of a blow to Adrian’s ego. It wasn’t that his country didn’t need the Barbican group—the country didn’t need Agent Wolf.
“We retained a few agents,” the prime minister continued, “but now
“As you may know, my brother is George Jenkinson, the product of my father’s union with his second wife.” The prime minister stood and began to pace. “My brother is not involved in politics and had no known enemies. On the night of the murder, I was summoned from bed at approximately four in the morning and called to the Jenkinson household. Jenkinson’s valet, Callows, had discovered my brother’s body. We estimate that George had been dead about an hour when Callows found him.”
Adrian found himself nodding. Liverpool was calm and lucid. Though the death of his brother must be a difficult topic to discuss, the prime minister did it with clarity and brevity.
“I do not have to tell you murder is almost always grim and shocking, but this was far beyond shocking. This was—” He stumbled slightly. Adrian saw him clench his hands into tight fists. Liverpool was intent on keeping hold of his emotions.
The prime minister swallowed loudly. “The way my brother was killed. T-the state of his body was”—he shuddered and turned away—“gruesome. I want to know why he was killed thus and by whom.” Liverpool turned back, his features once again a mask of composure. They might have been discussing the weather.
There was a long moment of silence as Liverpool paused, possibly to allow the information to sink in. Sophia raised a tentative finger.
“Yes, Lady Smythe. You may speak now.”
“My lord, I am dreadfully sorry for your loss. I had heard something about this affair, but I thought the matter had been turned over to Bow Street.”
Adrian saw where she was going and had to agree. As much as he wanted a new assignment, this was not what he had been trained for. “We are spies, my lord, not murder investigators.”
“This is not to imply that solving your brother’s murder is not important and necessary, but…” She glanced at Adrian, silently asking for help.
It was a strange feeling, to share the same side as Sophia. Until tonight, he’d never considered her an enemy, but she hadn’t been an ally, either. Now it appeared they actually agreed on something: this was not a case for a member of the Barbican group. It was… amateur.
But he wasn’t giving up entirely. “My lord, perhaps there is an international matter in which I”—Sophia glared at him; he ignored her—“could assist you?”
The prime minister crossed his arms.
“A dangerous double agent?” Adrian suggested. “A code to be cracked?”
The prime minister sighed and looked at the ceiling.
“An arms smuggler? An…” Adrian trailed off.
Liverpool looked back at him. “I am aware you are probably overqualified for this task. Bow Street thought it would be an easy case as well, and they have yet to solve it. I am also aware both of you were highly regarded operatives for the Barbican group, but might I also point out that you are both out of work operatives.”
Adrian winced. Liverpool had a point there.
“I had hoped you might take this case purely as a favor to me.” The prime minister glanced at Sophia, and Adrian wondered again at their relationship. “But I am prepared to offer compensation.”
Sophia looked up from the hands she’d clenched in her lap. “We don’t want your money.”
Adrian nodded agreement.
“I wouldn’t dream of offering it,” Liverpool said icily. “But what about reinstatement into your precious Barbican group?”
“I thought the group was being disbanded,” Adrian said.
“Severely reduced in number but not disbanded.”
Adrian clenched his fists. Melbourne hadn’t mentioned this small fact to him. And no wonder, as it would have been even more of a blow to Adrian’s ego. It wasn’t that his country didn’t need the Barbican group—the country didn’t need Agent Wolf.
“We retained a few agents,” the prime minister continued, “but now
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