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into the river,” Corbyn advised. “The water will neutralize the gunpowder, rendering the bomb useless.”

“That is a good idea,” Baldwin acknowledged.

Corbyn smirked. “You sound surprised, but that is why I am the one in charge,” he remarked. “I will have agents standing by on the docks to assist you in removing the bomb very gently from the wagon.”

“I would appreciate that,” Baldwin said before taking a sip of his drink. “I can’t help but comment on how evident it is that Morton and Marie intend for me to be the scapegoat. Frankly, I don’t think they care whether I survive the explosion or not.”

Rising, Oliver responded, “You make an interesting point.” He walked over to the drink cart and poured himself another drink. “To them, you are expendable.”

Corbyn raised his glass. “I see that they sized you up correctly,” he joked.

Baldwin chuckled.

“If we knew where Marie was storing the bomb, then we could seize it tonight,” Oliver said, bringing the glass up to his lips. “Do you have any idea where she is hiding out?”

“The only hint that she gave was that the gunpowder was in a secure place,” Baldwin replied.

“That could be anywhere,” Oliver mumbled.

Baldwin nodded. “My thoughts precisely.”

A knock came at the door.

“Enter,” Baldwin ordered.

The door opened, and his butler stepped into the room. “I am sorry to disturb you, milord. But a Mrs. Foster would like a moment of your time.”

“Mrs. Foster, you say?” he asked, wondering why Miss Dowding’s companion was here to call on him.

“Yes, and she says that it is most urgent,” Pratt asserted.

Leaning forward, he placed his drink on the table in front of him and rose. “Send her in.”

Pratt tipped his head and departed from the room, leaving the door open.

“Why do you suppose Miss Dowding’s companion is calling on you?” Oliver asked with a puzzled look on his face.

“I was just asking myself that very same question,” Baldwin muttered.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long. Mrs. Foster rushed into the study, her eyes frantically seeking him out.

“Whatever is the matter?” Baldwin asked as he hurried over to her.

Mrs. Foster placed a hand up to her forehead. “I’m sorry for barging in on you at this late hour, but I didn’t know where else to go.”

Baldwin placed a hand on her sleeve and led her towards an upholstered chair. “Why don’t you start by telling me what is wrong?”

After she was situated, Mrs. Foster looked up at him and asked, “May I have something to drink?”

“Yes, I can get you some tea,” Baldwin suggested. “That should help calm your nerves.”

Mrs. Foster shook her head. “I need something much stronger than that,” she replied. “Do you have any brandy?”

Baldwin blinked in surprise. “Yes, I do have brandy.” He walked over to the drink cart and poured a glass, then walked back and handed it to her.

“Thank you, my lord,” Mrs. Foster said as she accepted the glass with a shaky hand.

Pulling a chair closer to her, Baldwin sat down. “Can you tell me what is wrong?”

“It’s about Miss Dowding,” Mrs. Foster said hesitantly, “she’s gone missing.”

Baldwin could feel the air rushing out of his lungs at her stunning announcement. But in the next moment, he grew solemn and alert, knowing he had to keep all of his wits about him. He knew he needed to find out as much as he could about Miss Dowding’s disappearance, and quickly.

“I want you to start from the beginning,” Baldwin ordered, his eyes never straying from hers.

Mrs. Foster took a sip of her drink. “We went to the orphanage to look for any clues about Miss Hardy’s disappearance, but we didn’t find anything. Not that I thought we would,” she rambled. “I told Miss Dowding that but—”

“I need you to focus, Mrs. Foster,” Baldwin said, speaking over her.

Mrs. Foster gave him a repentant smile. “My apologies,” she replied. “I tend to ramble on when I get nervous.”

“There is no reason to be nervous here,” Baldwin assured her.

Mrs. Foster glanced over his shoulder, and he followed her gaze. Corbyn and Oliver were both standing there with stern looks on their faces.

Turning his attention back towards Mrs. Foster, Baldwin remarked, “Don’t concern yourself with them. They will be able to aid in the search for Miss Dowding.”

Mrs. Foster nodded. “As I was saying, we didn’t find anything in Miss Hardy’s room, so I thought Madalene would benefit from some tea. But, when I returned from preparing the tea, Madalene was gone.”

“Do you have any idea where she went?”

Mrs. Foster shook her head. “We searched the entire orphanage before we called for the constable,” she said. “Then, we searched it again and again.”

“Are there any other buildings that she could have visited?”

“There is an outbuilding, but Miss Gaillard was kind enough to search it for us,” Mrs. Foster said.

Corbyn spoke up. “Who is Miss Gaillard?”

“The French teacher at the orphanage,” Mrs. Foster explained. “She was temporarily appointed as headmistress after Miss Hardy went missing.”

“I see,” Corbyn replied. “So, she must be a trustworthy individual.”

Mrs. Foster bobbed her head. “Oh, yes. The girls love her.”

“Can you think of any reason why Miss Dowding might have left the safety of the orphanage?” Baldwin asked.

“Not one,” Mrs. Foster answered. “She is smart enough to know that it is not safe to wander in that part of Town.”

“Was she carrying her pistol?”

Mrs. Foster gave him a blank look. “I didn’t even know that she owned a pistol.”

“Did no one witness Miss Dowding leave the building, whether by the front or the back?” Oliver asked.

“We questioned all the girls, but no one saw her leave the building,” Mrs. Foster replied. “The constable even spoke to our driver and footman, but they didn’t see anything, either.”

Baldwin ran a hand through his hair, attempting to squash his growing irritation. “How can someone just disappear without leaving a trace?”

“Have you considered that Miss Dowding didn’t want to be seen leaving the building?” Corbyn asked.

Baldwin turned to face Corbyn. “Meaning?”

“Perhaps she had an errand she needed to run,” Corbyn

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