“You frequently surprise me,” he admitted with a smile. “It’s one of your many charms. No, Thompson’s started as a simple registry office for servants. Nothing else was on offer, I do assure you.”

He waited until I had recovered, and then he went to the decanter and replenished both our glasses, returning to sit down again. “There’s more?” I asked.

“A little. Are you ready, or would you like the rest to wait?”

I remembered I had still not found out what the box was for, and I touched it with one hand.

“Yes,” he said. “The box. There are only two of these. One is kept at the office, in the safe, and Carier and I have the other. It never leaves us. In it are names, directions, and areas of expertise.”

“Expertise?”

“Listen, my love. Who knows all the secrets of the house? Who knows where, who, when?”

At once I saw where he was heading. “Servants.”

“Perfectly correct. We provide lady’s maids, housekeepers, butlers, valets, first and second footmen. Higher servants in positions of trust. Some of our people indicate to us for an extra fee and total discretion they—” he tapped the box, “—will help us if it doesn’t compromise their position, or if we discover illegal activity. Sometimes a husband finds his wife has pawned the family jewels, and he needs to know where they are, to quietly recover them. He can come to Thompson’s and we will do our best to help. Perhaps there’s a mysterious death. They won’t go to the authorities, that would mean far too much scandal and upset, but we can provide them with a solution on which they can then base a decision. Mysterious deaths are not always murder, and above all things my peers rely on discretion and reputation.” He sighed. “I have long advocated a civilian force to administer and regulate the law, but public opinion is against it, although the matter has been brought up time and again in Parliament. If a man wishes to prosecute a burglar, he must instigate the investigation himself and provide the proof to the magistrate. We help with all that. Either we have one of our special people in place, or we seek permission to place one.”

“So at the Abbey—” I began. He’d helped my family with a similar “little problem” there.

“Strangely, no. It was the first time I’d come across a great house without one Thompson’s employee in it. I did that all on my own. With a little help, of course,” he added, grinning.

“So when there’s a problem, you’re asked to stay?”

“Well, actually, it’s not me they want. You see—nobody knows about my involvement except you, Mrs. Thompson, Gervase and Carier.”

“Mrs. Thompson?” I’d wondered where the name had come from.

“Alicia Thompson, the third component of the unholy triumvirate.” I watched him closely for any signs of emotion, but there were none, so I imagined Mrs. Thompson as a comfortable widow of advanced years. It seemed I was right.

“Carier knew her in the army. After her husband died she needed a position, so we gave her one, running the office and the day to day management. After all, Thompson’s is one of the best staff agencies in London these days. We take up all references before anyone is put on the books, and provide comfortable, if not luxurious surroundings where our clients may interview prospective servants if they wish to. Mrs. Thompson knows about all the other activities, and I couldn’t ask for a more efficient manager. However, only these people know of my active involvement. Most people think I have invested in the company to give Carier a pension and that was, after all, how it started out.

“We thought it would be better to keep my involvement quiet.” He paused to take another sip of his wine. “Of course, many people have guessed, but nobody knows for sure. The records of my investment in the business are well tucked away, and when we decide to retire, as I am considering now, the business will still be there for the others.”

“You’re thinking of retiring?” I echoed in surprise.

“My purpose was to make me some private income, so I wasn’t so dependent on my father, but most importantly, to keep me busy, to stop me from becoming too bored. Everything seemed to bore me at one point, and eventually even the women—I’m sorry, my sweet, have I gone too far?” He broke off as he remembered whom he was talking to, but I knew his past, I knew his reputation. He had never tried to hide any of that from me. It had worried me since I had first met him. I still worried. He had proved his attractiveness to other women, how long could I hope to keep him?

When I’d first met him, he was a distant figure who had troubled me. His sardonic humour meant I could never tell when he was laughing at me. As it turned out, he never had, but that hadn’t stopped me imagining it in the early days. His fine clothes were the most astounding I had ever seen, and if it had not been for the accident, he might well have remained that way, distant and unapproachable, but it had happened, I had been there, and now here we were.

I smiled and shook my head. “I know some of that part, and I’m beginning to understand better. It’s the women in your future I worry about, not the ones in your past.”

He took my hand and looked straight into my eyes, warm blue