Dangerous in Diamonds - Madeline Hunter [36]
Castleford did not go up the stairs to meet those superiors, but down. He found his way to a chamber in the bowels of the building. Light from high windows kept it from being a true dungeon. Golden beams sliced through the heavy shadows, illuminating the two men whose desks had been placed to take advantage of them, much like characters in a Caravaggio painting.
The older man’s smile of welcome dropped when that light fell on their visitor too. He stood and bowed and nervously fixed his spectacles on his nose more securely.
“Your Grace. We are honored. It has been some time. However, if you require records again, I must tell you that after the last time the minister strictly corrected us to always obtain his approval. He said he would explain this to you, sir, and—”
“I have all the approval necessary, Mr. Trilling.”
Mr. Trilling’s clerk watched, wide-eyed. Something about his expression piqued Castleford’s memory, but he could not place why.
Trilling fussed and flustered. Castleford subjected him to a level gaze that normally reduced government functionaries to cowering obedience.
Not this time, unfortunately.
“I think I should speak with the minister, sir. Just to ensure there is no misunderstanding,” Trilling said. “I hope you will not mind that, Your Grace.”
“By all means, go speak with Bathurst, if he is here. I will wait.” He dropped onto one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs, stretched out his legs, and smiled up at the old man.
Trilling shuffled away. Castleford took out his snuffbox, took a pinch, then held it toward the young clerk. “Join me while you can. I am sure Mr. Trilling allows no such indulgences.”
“You can be sure he never does, sir.” With a conspiratorial smile, the young clerk came over. He accepted the box and helped himself.
“What is your name?” Castleford asked.
He flushed and bowed. “My apologies, Your Grace. I am Harry Sykes, first clerk to the director of records, sir.”
“You look familiar to me,” Castleford said. “I am sure we have met.”
“Met? I am sure not, Your Grace. Why, when could that have been? I have only been employed by Mr. Trilling since June.” He beamed with pleasure at the notion that a duke thought there had been a meeting, though.
“I am sure all the same. Perhaps it was not here but elsewhere.” He pondered it. “Do you gamble?”
Mr. Sykes’s expression turned guarded. “A bit, sir. Not overmuch.”
“Ah, now I remember. It was at Damian’s, not three weeks ago. I am sure of it. You were with two junior army officers at the wheel. You were much distracted by the play.”
Mostly Sykes had been distracted by his large losses in that gaming hell. His panic had been visible and palpable, which was why Castleford had noticed him. When desperate, Sykes appeared much as he had when awed by a duke’s entrance into his dungeon.
“I have been there on occasion, I think. Your memory is excellent, sir, if you noticed such as me.”
“My memory surprises even me sometimes. There is no accounting for what sticks in it.”
Mr. Sykes nervously opened and closed the snuffbox and, after admiring it a moment, handed it back with his thanks.
“Keep it, Mr. Sykes. Be sure to pawn it well, however. The top is gold and the bottom silver, and those are real sapphires as the lion’s eyes. Oh, and while you contemplate how far it will go to settling your gentleman’s debts, would you be good enough to bring me the books that have the war deaths?”
Mr. Sykes looked at him. Then at the snuffbox. Then at the door.
“Mr. Trilling will be some time returning, I promise you. Bathurst is in a meeting this morning, so there will be a delay for any other conversations. Mr. Trilling cannot return until he can let me stay or kick me out on the minister’s authority,” Castleford said. “If it makes you feel better, after you bring me the list, you can keep watch at the door.”
Mr. Sykes thought it over for a long moment. Then he went to the bookcases that held