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down the stairs.
    They waited in the gloomy entrance hall, pacing back and forth, before a loud knock rattled the door. Olivia and Peregrine exchanged nervous glances. Peregrine yanked open the door.
    Several men stood crowded together on the stoop. The burly man in the center with a thick, bullish neck and glum expression stepped forward and glanced around. His small, black eyes cut from Peregrine to Olivia. His frown deepened.
    “I received a report that assistance was needed at this residence. An accident of some sort.” His deep voice seemed harsh and unnaturally loud in the silence of the old townhouse. He swept his shabby black hat off his head and bowed. “Constable Fred Cooke, Madam.”
    Olivia nodded. “I am Lady Olivia Archer. This is my brother, Mr. Peregrine Archer.”
    Mr. Cooke bowed again and brushed past Peregrine before gesturing to the men accompanying him. “This here is Mr. John Idleman, the coroner. And behind him are Mr. Andrews, Mr. Frome, and Mr. Jeffers.”
    The coroner was a rail-thin, solemn man with hazel eyes and sparse gray-brown hair. He nodded and stepped into the hallway. “The physician, Dr. Campbell, was unavailable. I hope we may assist you in his stead, my lady. I have brought several men to assist, if it is necessary to move a gentleman.”
    Olivia and Peregrine exchanged glances. “I don't know. That is, there is a man — I fear he may be deceased.”
    “And where is this individual?” Mr. Cooke eyed Peregrine as if suspecting the young man were amusing himself with a joke at the constable's expense.
    “Uh-uh,” Peregrine choked, unable to break through his stutter. He flushed a deep red, and his brows jutted out in angry ridges.
    Cooke's gaze hardened, and he stepped forward, his hands fisted at his sides. “Well, sir? Where is this individual? I would hate to think you have wasted our time for your own amusement.”
    “Uh, up...” Peregrine struggled to get the words out as his frantic gaze caught Olivia's.
    Snickers whispered through the group of men, and several raised their hands to hide their laughter.
    Peregrine’s flush deepened. His choking grew worse until Olivia stepped forward, inserting herself between the chuckling men and gripping her brother's shoulders. “Peregrine!” She gave his shoulders a shake. “Look at me.”
    He looked at her before his gaze drifted past her shoulder to the man behind her. His eyes flashed with anger and frustration.
    “Peregrine!” she ordered. “Take a deep breath.” She desperately wanted to speak for him, to take command, but she knew that would only make matters worse for her brother and take away whatever shred of pride he had left.
    Even when she tried to help him by insisting he breathe deeply and remain calm, his stutter choked him. Any words starting with T, V, W, P, D or C stuck in his throat like so many rocks.
    The men sniggering behind her only made it worse. She winced inside, guessing at his anger. This was not the first time he’d faced others who delighted in making him the object of derision and sport. His years at school must have been a torment she wished her parents had spared him.
    After a long minute, he straightened his broad shoulders and gazed firmly at the men in the hallway. His frown silenced those who had been laughing behind their hands.
    “Uh.” He paused and swallowed. “Upstairs. Follow me, if you will.” He turned on his heel and ascended the staircase.
    Olivia had never been so proud of him than she was at that moment. She nodded at the cluster of men and gestured for them to follow her brother.
    Then she trailed after them, wishing she had gone with Margaret instead. No wonder irresponsible people always seemed to be so cheerful. They left it up to the dutiful to uncover all the unpleasant things in life, such as the dead man in her wardrobe.

Chapter Three
    When they reached her office, they clustered around the door, waiting for her to unlock it. She caught Peregrine's eye as she