Hounds of Autumn by Heather Blackwood Page B

did you know?”
    “Because you want the rest of her notes.” He looked like the cat that ate the codfish.
    Exasperating man. “I do. Do you think you could manage it?”
    “I already have.”
    She waited until she was sure he wasn’t going to say anything more.
    “And?”
    “As soon as we got back, I sent a note requesting that we pay Mr. Granger a brief visit. I said that I was eager to make the acquaintance of the husband of my wife’s friend, wanted to pay our condolences, etcetera.” He waved a hand, but kept his eyes on his book. “When we are there, we can delicately broach the subject of you having access to Mrs. Granger’s work. That’s assuming, of course, that he didn’t hear about your private expedition to get the items yourself.”
    She jumped up and kissed his forehead. “You are wonderful.”
    “I know.”
    “I’m off to your study. I’ll see you at supper.”
    “Enjoy your study of fine art.”
    She closed the door to the sound of his laughter.

Chapter 12
    T he next morning, Chloe had spent a few hours working on the steamcycle in the carriage house. When Ambrose had gotten it back from town, she found that one of the steam valves was not making a proper seal. A shadow passed over her and she looked up to find her husband in the doorway. She flipped her notebook to the front cover, turned a few pages, then flipped back to a spot held by her finger and wrote a few lines. Ambrose lowered himself beside her. She held up one finger while she finished, and then closed her notebook.
    “I received this after breakfast.”
    After she cleaned her hands, he handed her an envelope. Inside, was a card with pinched script.

    Mr. Sullivan,
    Thank you for your kind letter and your condolences. If you are available, you and your wife may call upon me at my residence for a brief visit today from one thirty until two o’clock in the afternoon. At this most difficult time, I would request your indulgence in limiting the duration of your call. Unless I hear otherwise, I will expect you both at the time indicated above.

    “Not the most gracious invitation we’ve ever received,” she said. “And at that time of day, he wouldn’t even have to serve us tea or biscuits.”
    “It is the very model of efficiency. I thought you, of all people, would appreciate it.”
    “Don’t tease.”
    “Very well.” He folded the card and inserted it back into its envelope. “You can find me in my temporary study after lunch, and we can proceed. I will arrange the carriage.”
    “Do you think he knows?” she said. “About my visit to the laboratory?”
    “This may be his typical way of addressing people. I only know the man by reputation, and even the ever-amiable Alexander has hesitated to say much about the man. I gather he’s a taciturn sort.”
    “So you have no idea.”
    “None.”
    “Ah, well. Faint heart never won fair lady’s schematics.”
    “Indeed.”

    They stepped out of the carriage in front of the Granger house. Giles bounded out behind them and followed them up the walk. It was a calculated risk to bring him. Ambrose had thought it a good idea, saying that if Mr. Granger was grieving, making Chloe seem as similar to his wife as possible may work to their advantage. Also Giles would show Mr. Granger that Chloe was not a mere dilettante, but a serious inventor, capable of understanding and utilizing all of Camille’s designs.
    The Granger house seemed larger this time, with no people filing in through the door and loitering on the front walk. There were no pots of colorful plants this time, only the clean-swept front yard. A burning smell floated in the air, most likely from a groundskeeper burning piles of leaves out back. Ambrose rapped the doorknocker. Chloe looked down to see that Giles had a wet piece of leaf in his mouth. He was chewing it, his head tipped sideways.
    “Drop it,” she said.
    Giles blinked and stared. She heard footsteps and quickly pried the leaf loose and tossed it