Barnabus’s other guess, much more recently embraced, was Brogan’s father-in-law. Mr. Sorokin, they’d discovered, had been secretly helping people throughout London escape dangerous and miserable situations for years. He’d shown himself to have connections all over the city and knew the comings and goings of people he had no reason to even be familiar with.

“I should warn you, Doc,” Brogan said, “curiosity’s always been m’ besetting sin. If you don’t make introductions where this lovey lass is concerned, I’ll break with protocol and simply make them my own self.”

He’d been so lost in his thoughts, he’d neglected to explain to any of the people in the entryway who the others were.

To Stone, Barnabus quickly said, “Be a bit ginger with the thumb until we know how badly it’s injured. And when the nail falls off, be certain to bandage the thumb well.”

“When?” Stone repeated.

Barnabus nodded. “It’ll grow back.” With a quick nod toward Gemma, he told his friends, “This is Gemma Milligan. My wife.”

Brogan let his grin blossom fully. “I thought she might’ve been, though I still haven’t fully recovered from hearing that our eternal bachelor has had a bride this entire time.”

“Don’t be too offended,” Gemma said. “He’d not told Mrs. Simms either, and she’s here all the day long.”

Stone folded his arms across his chest, somehow making the posture feel more stoic than intimidating. “I suspect there’s a story behind that.”

“There’s always a story.” Brogan laughed.

“But not all stories need to be told to all people,” Barnabus said.

“Some stories, seems, ain’t meant to be told to anyone,” Gemma joked in an overly loud aside.

“Never you fear, Mrs. Mulligan,” Brogan said with a twinkle in his eye. “We’re experts at wriggling information out of the good doctor.”

She offered a very formal curtsy, a gleam of laughter in her eyes. “Begging your pardons, sirs, I’m aiming to traipse about the site of a fire today and am needing to see that I’m well togged for the outing.”

She bounced from the room. The visitors watched her go, then, in perfect synchrony, turned toward Barnabus.

“She’s gorgeous,” Brogan said. “And seems to be quite a ball of sunshine.”

Barnabus nodded. “She is both.”

“And you’re fond of her?” Stone asked.

“Of course I am.”

“And how long has it been since you’ve seen this woman you’re so fond of?’” Brogan asked.

“Three years.” Barnabus knew there was little point ignoring the question. As Stone had so aptly put it, Brogan knew how to make himself a pest. “Gemma doesn’t like to stay in one place long. Explaining the oddity of our situation seemed more complicated than was warranted since none of you were likely to ever meet her.”