“I will have to count on you, Hargreaves,” Sir Richard said.

“There’s only one obstacle that I foresee,” Colin said. “There’s no chance I’ll be allowed to interview anyone in the harem. I’ll need the assistance of a lady.”

“What luck you have,” I said, meeting his eyes. “I believe you’re well acquainted with someone quite capable of undertaking the task.”

He smiled. “You’d be working in an official capacity, Emily. No running about doing whatever you wish. And I’ll have to get approval—”

“Your wife is an investigator as well?” Mr. Sutcliffe’s eyebrows shot upward.

“She’s solved three murders,” Colin said. His words were true, but I’d not before acted on behalf of the government. I’d only helped friends—and myself—in dire times when there was no other option. My stomach flipped, excitement competing with nerves for my attention. After the work I’d done in Vienna the previous winter, he’d spoken to his superiors at Buckingham Palace about me, and they’d agreed that my skills might prove useful to the government in the future—but only if I was partnering with my husband, and only if the job could not be done in the absence of feminine assistance. I’m quite certain they were convinced no such circumstance would ever come to pass.

“I’m not sure that I approve. Not that I doubt your talents, Lady Emily, but I cannot ask that you endanger yourself.” The creases on Sir Richard’s brow deepened. “But I suppose I have no choice but to graciously accept any assistance you can offer. I’ve now lost my daughter twice. I cannot let this insult go unpunished.”

3 April 1892

Darnley House, Kent

My Dearest Emily,

I hope this letter finds you lost in the throes of connubial bliss. It was such a delight to see you and Colin—without question the best diversion I’ve had in months.