“What is wrong?” Julia said, for she had finally set aside the moment I had interrupted and looked squarely at me. She crossed the floor, took my hands, and peered closely at my face. I could not hide much from my twin. “You are hurt!”

“Mulholland,” I said, and looked across at Mr. Kent. “He attacked me and said you had informed him of our connection with Lord Evan.”

“Attacked you?” he and my sister said in unison.

“We must send for Dr. McLeod,” my sister said, clasping my hands more tightly. But her eyes were upon Mr. Kent again, this time in reproach.

Mr. Kent came forward. His concern seemed genuine, as did the stricken expression upon his face.

“Samuel was hurt. I was merely insulted,” I said. “Dr. McLeod is on his way for both of us.” I was certainly not going to detail the attack in front of a man. Julia eyed me, unconvinced. I hurriedly moved on, glaring at Mr. Kent. “Did you inform Mulholland? He knew that I had been with Lord Evan in King’s Lynn!”

“I assure you I did not inform him.” He half turned to Julia. “Upon my honor, I did not. I have not spoken to the man.”

I had seen Mr. Kent’s honor—staunchly upheld even when it did him no good service. It would seem he spoke the truth.

“I believe you,” Julia said, laying her hand briefly upon his uninjured arm. I saw him note the intimacy. As I did. Julia glanced at me—an anxious check upon my thoughts. So be it. I inclined my head. “We believe you,” she added firmly.

He bowed.

“But, that being the case, how does he know Lord Evan and I were in King’s Lynn?” I demanded.

“I submitted my report about the asylum to Bow Street,” Mr. Kent said. “It was a confidential report since it held information about members of noble families, and I assure you it did not mention Lord Evan or you by your real names.”

“Then someone has discovered we were involved.”

“Mulholland may have worked it out himself if he has seen the reports,” Mr. Kent said. “He is a clever man and he has resources to go to King’s Lynn and question people. Even so, confidential reports are for magistrates only. If it is the case that Mulholland has seen it, then someone within the upper sphere of the Magistrates’ Court may be assisting him.”

Or commanding him, I thought, but did not voice it. “A magistrate within Bow Street?” I asked. That could limit the possibilities.

“It could be any of the courts. And it could be any number of magistrates, or indeed any of those who may have access to them, officially or otherwise.” He stared into the distance for a moment. “Or the Home Office or, indeed, the Alien Office.”

“That is a lot of people,” I said, deflated.