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whispers. It was clear that I was not meant to overhear any references to
    him. But tonight his name came up again, in a manner of speaking.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “The second villain from London, the one who confronted us in the stables, said something about me
    being a complete fool to think that I could get away with stealing Larkin’s property.” Her fingers
    tightened visibly on the glass. “He also said . . . well, never mind. It is no longer important.”
    “What did he also say?” Ambrose prodded gently.
    “He said, ‘You’re a dead woman, that’s what you are.’” She straightened her already very straight
    shoulders. “What do you know of this Alexander Larkin?”
    “He is one of the most notorious figures in London’s underworld, a master criminal or a sort of crime
    lord, if you like. He worked his way up from the toughest streets in the city. He now lives the life of a
    wealthy gentleman, but he lacks any genuine social connections and, of course, is not received in
    Society.”
    “All of the trappings of the upper classes but not a part of that world.” She turned the sherry glass
    between her palms as though trying to warm her fingers. “Just like any other wealthy man who made his
    fortune in trade, I suppose.”
    “He is certainly in trade. Larkin has financial interests in a variety of illegal enterprises including brothels
    and opium dens. He has been suspected in a number of murders over the years. But he has always been
    extremely careful to keep a discreet distance between himself and his criminal activities. The result is that
    the police have never been able to obtain enough evidence to arrest him.”
    Her mouth tightened. “That would appear to confirm my students’ theory about what happened to my
    predecessor at the castle.”
    “There was another teacher before you?”
    “Yes. A Miss Bartlett. She was there for only a few weeks. One afternoon Rimpton and his companion
    arrived at the castle. That night the girls were locked in their bedroom. When they were let out the next
    morning, Miss Bartlett was gone. So were the two men from London. The castle staff told the girls that
    Miss Bartlett had been dismissed from her post and that the men had escorted her, together with her
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    trunk, to the train station very early that morning. But the girls were convinced that the men had done
    something terrible to Miss Bartlett.”
    “What made them suspicious?”
    “Miss Bartlett left a few things behind, including a favorite pair of gloves.”
    He raised his brows. “An astute observation.”
    “The girls are far more observant than anyone at the castle gave them credit for.” Concordia angled her
    chin. “Those who find themselves alone and without resources very quickly learn to pay attention to the
    little things going on around them—things that others might ignore.”
    “I am well aware of that, Miss Glade.”
    She gave him a long, measuring look. “Are you?”
    “Yes.”
    He said nothing more, but she appeared to accept his assurance.
    “As it happens, I eventually concluded that the girls may have been right about what had happened to
    their first teacher,” she said after a while. “I did not immediately subscribe to that notion, you understand.
    I am very well aware that young ladies can be extremely imaginative, especially when they have been left
    to their own devices for long periods of time. For the most part my students were ignored while they
    were at the castle. Until I arrived, that is.”
    “I imagine that you kept them well occupied,” he said, amused.
    “I do not believe in strict regimentation, Mr. Wells, but I have found that a certain amount of order and
    routine provides a sense of stability that is quite comforting for many young people, especially those who
    have been orphaned.”
    He was impressed with her insights. “Please continue.”
    She cleared her throat.