Rosemont steepled his fingers together over his desk, eyeing his visitors with the sharpest of blue eyes. “To what do I owe the pleasure, gentlemen?”
Uriel and Bel shared a worried look.
Rosemont glanced at the man hovering by the door. “You may leave, Jelly.”
He bowed his way out. “Your grace.”
When the door was firmly closed and Rosemont was certain the man had gone back to his own desk, he said, “If you’ve come to turn my life upside down, you’re too late.”
The two men sighed as if they’d both been holding their breath.
Uriel quirked an eyebrow. “A bit bold for the workplace, isn’t it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Good grief, Uriel, it’s the man’s name. Do you think I routinely gift my employees with ridiculous terms of endearment?”
“Perhaps not routinely,” Uriel admitted. “His name is really Jelly?”
Rosemont massaged his temples. Oh, to have had just one week without a visit from this meddlesome pair.
“We’re here about Lord Farringdon,” said Bel.
Rosemont sighed. “I heard you two had been poking your noses in.”
“The man confessed,” said Bel.
“It’s a pity he cannot be tried twice,” said Rosemont. “We can have him up for perjury, of course, but—”
“The God-Wolf didn’t take him for the murders of five women,” Uriel said.
“He took him for the murders of eight,” Bel added.