“Newbury looked out of the window. Albion House was once again bustling with people, but it was an entirely different sort of bustle than the one he had witnessed just a couple of evenings before. Gone was the impressive flock of lords and ladies, who had fluttered around on the front steps like preening birds, all dressed in their elaborate finery; replaced instead by an army of uniformed constables with grey, tired faces and expectant looks. A large crowd of onlookers had gathered on the pavem...ent outside of Lord Winthrop’s house, each of them attempting to catch a glimpse of whatever gruesome mystery was hidden behind the shuttered windows. The bobbies were doing their best to marshal this unruly crowd, keeping them back from the scene and ignoring their pleas for information. Newbury guessed there would be half a dozen reporters in the mob. He wondered if one of them was Purefoy. Newbury edged forward in his seat, leaning over to open the carriage door, but before he could it swung open, as if by its own volition, and a man’s face peered in.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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