Edward and Nick toured the old boarding house with Herbert and Byron Elsberry. The building was in remarkably good condition, considering where it was located, and how long it had been vacant.

Edward concentrated on discovering any sign that the place was being used for smuggling, but didn’t see any evidence that it was…or that it had been. That didn’t mean there wasn’t a hidden cellar, or an underground entrance that they didn’t know about.

“Have you decided what you wish to do?” the elder solicitor asked when they left the building.

“I’d like to think about it for a day or two,” Edward said. “Perhaps come back another time when I can evaluate how it can be transformed into a children’s home.”

Herbert Elsberry looked at the darkening sky. “That can be arranged Your Grace. There were certain areas you were unable to see as well as you might in the light of day.”

“Are you still convinced this is the best location for an orphanage, Your Grace?” Byron Elsberry asked. “If you give me some time, I’m sure I can find a better location for what you want.”

“No, no. This location is perfect.”

The younger Elsberry smiled stiffly. “Very well, Your Grace. Stop by our offices whenever you wish to use the key. I’ll be happy to accompany you.”

Edward and Nick bade farewell to the two solicitors, then each headed to their own conveyances. It wasn’t until the Elsberry carriage left that Nick spoke.

“Was it my imagination, Your Grace, or did the younger Mr. Elsberry seem anxious to find you a different place to put your orphanage?”

“That’s what I thought, too, Nick. It might be worthwhile to do some checking into why the son would want to steer me in another direction.”

“I’ll do that first thing tomorrow.”

Nick stepped back to allow the driver to hold the door and Edward took a step up. He entered the carriage, then stopped.

“What is it, Your Grace?”

Edward picked up the folded piece of paper on the leather seat, then sat. “Someone left us a message,” he said after Nick followed him into the carriage.

“Can you read it?”

“No. It’s too dark.” Edward opened the carriage door enough to speak to his driver. “Stop beneath the first street lamp, Henry.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

The carriage lurched forward, then stopped beneath the first light.

“What does it say?” Nick asked.

Edward handed the note to his son-in-law, then issued orders to his driver. “Take us to St. Bartholomew’s Churchyard,” Edward said. “Use the east gate. And hurry.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Are you sure this isn’t a trap?” Nick said when the carriage rolled forward.

“No.”

The carriage turned into St. Bartholomew’s Churchyard and followed the path they were instructed to take. Suddenly Henry brought the carriage to a halt and called a warning. Edward reached for the pistol in his jacket pocket, then followed Nick from the carriage.

“Up ahead, Your Grace,” Henry said.

Edward looked ahead. A crumpled form lay in the center of the path.

Edward and Nick ran to where the man lay.

“Do you know him?” Nick asked, rolling the young man over to see his face.

Edward looked at features that seemed familiar. He noticed a resemblance to Jacob Winslow, Her Majesty’s former guard. He couldn’t be sure, of course, but it was possible that the man on the ground might be his son, Joshua.

“Let’s get him into the carriage. We’ll take him to Townsend House.”

They got the young man into the carriage. Edward tried to fit all the pieces of this puzzle together but it was impossible. There were too many unanswered questions.

Who’d left the quite well-written though hurried note for them to find the man Edward thought might be Joshua Winslow? What did the property on Conner Street have to do with the smuggling operation, and with Lord Lindleigh’s death? And who was responsible for bringing the young man Edward prayed was Joshua Winslow to St. Bartholomew’s Churchyard?

Nick held the young man steady as the carriage rumbled across the streets. It was impossible to see how badly he was injured, or even where his injuries lay. As soon as they arrived at Townsend House, Edward sent for a doctor, then had his footmen carry the man to a room upstairs.

Nick followed closely behind the men carrying the stranger. When the footmen placed him on the bed, Nick removed the man’s soiled jacket and shirt. “Do you know his name?” Nick asked as he worked on the man.

“I believe this is Joshua Winslow. He’s the man Her Majesty ordered me to find.”

Nick turned the man to his stomach and saw the bullet hole in his shoulder. From the black and blue on his shoulder, it was possible the bullet hadn’t been removed. Edward knew he’d be lucky if he didn’t suffer an infection. And a fever.

Nick turned the lad over and Edward’s breath caught. The lad had been severely beaten. There was hardly a place on his body that wasn’t horridly bruised. There were also several knife cuts that would have to be tended.

“It’s too bad someone didn’t get him help when he was first injured. It looks as if he was used as a punching bag at Gentleman Jim’s.”

“Do you think he’ll survive?”

Nick lifted his gaze and Edward saw the worry in his eyes. “He’s young. He looks as if he was healthy before he was attacked. And someone at least gave him water, and…” Nick leaned down and smelled the young man’s mouth. “…from the smell of his breath, he’s been given laudanum to help with the pain and keep him unconscious.”

Servants rushed to and from the room carrying cloths and water and bandages and salves. Finally, the doctor arrived.

“Doctor Fleming.”

“Your Grace. Mr. Stillman.”

“Doctor Fleming,” Nick greeted.

“So what have we here?” the doctor asked lowering his gaze to the prone figure on the bed. “Bloody hell,” he whispered when he saw his patient’s condition. “Someone took a definite dislike to this young man.”

“Yes,” Edward agreed.

The doctor removed his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves as if he anticipated that the work he needed to do would take a long time. “You might as well wait elsewhere, Your Grace. There are enough of your staff here to assist me.”

Edward nodded. “Send someone down if you need anything.”

Nick followed him out of the room. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Nick walked to the door. “I think I’ll return to Conner Street to see if I can discover if anyone saw someone approach your carriage.”

Edward knew that was unlikely. “Even if someone did, it’s doubtful they’ll tell you. Unless you pay them. That might be an incentive.”

“Let’s hope so,” Nick said, then left.

Edward hoped so, too. He didn’t want to think of telling Her Majesty that Joshua Winslow was dead and they had no idea who was behind his murder.

Edward waited in his study until Doctor Fleming finished working on young Winslow. When Doctor Fleming finally came down, he looked tired and worn out. “He survived what I did to him, but I can’t make any promises. I’ll be back in the morning…if the poor fellow survives the night.”

After Edward ate a bite, he went upstairs to sit at Winslow’s bedside. It was probable that the worst would happen and he didn’t want the young man to die alone.

Edward studied the lad’s strong features and what would be a handsome face when the swelling went down, and thought of the nights he’d sat at his son’s bedside when he was in the midst of his seizures. Many were the times he’d thought Gideon might not survive, either. Watching this young man struggle against the pain and moan in agony was like reliving his darkest nightmares.

An hour or so later, Nick stopped by to tell him he didn’t have anything concrete to report, although there had been one young lass who he was sure knew something. Nick was going to return tomorrow to talk to her again. Edward sent a couple of gold coins with him to encourage her to talk.

When Nick left, Edward dozed while he sat at Joshua Winslow’s bedside. He prayed that when the sun rose in the morning, Joshua Winslow would still be alive.