A study in scandal by Robyn DeHart Read Free Book Online Page B

womanizing to be a waste of time.
    Primarily womanizing. He’d seen one too many men walk away from their aspirations because of a pretty face. But he was no such man. Which was why he needed to get the current pretty face out of his office.
    “No, I don’t get lonely. I have Othello to keep me company.”
    She frowned, and the result was nothing short of adorable, which, in and of itself, was annoying. Frowns were not adorable, nor was she. She was a nuisance.
    Why, then, did his neck become hot and his hands all fidgety when she was near?
    For the first time in his memory, Colin found a question he’d rather not investigate.
    “Who is Othello?” she asked.
    “My cat.” He nodded to the sleeping ball of fur currently occupying the rug in front of the fireplace.
    “I find it rather fitting that you have a cat, Inspector.”
    While he was mildly curious as to why that wasfitting, it was more pressing to end this impromptu visit. Lest he begin to think her ears were more fascinating than anyone’s ears ought to be.
    Accepting defeat that she was here to stay until she accomplished her mission, he took a seat in the chair next to her.
    He cleared his throat before he spoke. “Why is it that you stopped by?”
    She winced slightly, and a twinge of guilt gnawed at his stomach.
    “I met with some of my father’s contacts, and I believe I might have uncovered a lead. Or at least a good place to find one.”
    “Indeed.” Investigating on her own? She certainly had a wide streak of tenacity in her. It seemed grossly unfair that with his first case came an unwelcome, but most eager, assistant. Not to mention distracting. He tried not to notice that she looked rather fetching in her dress. He failed. Miserably.
    “I went to an antiquities dealer that my father works with,” she said. “I’d never been into his shop or met him before, as all his work is generally done with couriers, and I’m not so certain it’s the sort of place a lady should venture alone. However, I braved the situation.” She paused a moment and frowned before continuing. “He wasn’t allthat informative, but he did say he knew of some people who might be interested in such an artifact, and he would poke around a bit and let me know what he discovered.”
    “Which antiquities shop was this?”
    “Flinders’s Shop of the Old and Mysterious.”
    “On Cambria Street?” he asked.
    “Yes, that’s the one. Why?”
    “I’ve seen that shop. And you’re correct, a lady should not venture there alone.” He’d not only seen the shop, he’d visited with Mr. Flinders as well. Apparently Flinders was looser with his information with the fairer sex. Colin hadn’t even been able to convince the old man to take his card, much less convince him to contact him should Flinders come across any information that would help the investigation.
    “I also met with Monsieur Pitre at the London Museum. He’s the curator.”
    Colin had planned to inquire about any contacts that Lord Watersfield might have at the city museums. But he hadn’t planned on doing so this soon. She had beaten him to it. “Tell me, Miss Watersfield, what made you decide to visit Monsieur Pitre?”
    “He’s a frequent visitor to our house, a close friend of my father’s, and he’s familiar with most of the collectors and dealers in town.” She shookher head. “Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to give me any additional information, but I thought it might behoove us to apprise him of the situation. He’s quite familiar with my father’s collection and the piece in question. He, too, said he would ask about and see what he discovered.”
    “Very clever,” he said.
    She sat up straighter. “Thank you.”
    Her genuine smile seemed to warm his very blood. He shifted in his seat.
    “You said he’s familiar with the other collectors? Perhaps he could provide me with a list of such persons?”
    Her brow furrowed with small crinkles. “I’m not certain. Several of the