Lady Aline folded the blanket Louisa had used and drew it onto her lap. "You have impressed me so far. You cleared up the murder at the Sudbury School in Berkshire, discovered who killed Lydia Westin's husband and that barrister's wife, not to mention put up with Lady Clifford and her blasted missing necklace. I much prefer having you look into the matter than Bow Street. So unsavory."
"It is unsavory no matter who looks into it," I said. I gathered up the tea things to give my hands something to do.
"Perhaps, but this is Louisa's life. Her husband. Their secrets. You can at least be gentle."
"I can be gentle with Louisa, true. I'm certain I'll throttle Brandon when I see him. As far as I can discern, he's been a complete idiot."
The maid entered with a fresh pot of tea on a tray. She removed the dirty cups and saucers and departed. I noted that the maid's eyes were red with tears.
Lady Aline poured tea in a businesslike manner. She sloshed a dollop of brandy into mine without asking me before handing me the cup.
"Now then," she said, lifting the teapot to pour for herself. "I will tell you the entire nasty tale. I arrived at the Gillises' ball not long after the Brandons did. I entered, in fact, in time to see the damn fool colonel lead Imogene Harper from her friends to a private alcove. Louisa watched them go with a look of dismay. Tongues around me began to wag on the instant. Mr. Bennington, the husband of the actress, drawled to me, I say, he's no model of discretion, is he? He sounded delighted to be entertained. Others speculated about who this Harper woman truly was. She is a friend of Lady Gillis's, I gather, though Mrs. Harper claimed to me that she'd known the Brandons during the war."
"And yet, Louisa says she does not remember her."
"Precisely. At any rate, Louisa's friends took her under their collective wing and went on as though nothing had happened. Colonel Brandon and Mrs. Harper stayed in that alcove for a very long time. They did not emerge, in fact, until the dancing began. Brandon stood near Mrs. Harper after that, and whenever I happened to glimpse him, he did not look best pleased. I saw Mr. Turner approach Mrs. Harper, possibly to ask her to dance. Colonel Brandon more or less shooed him away. Mr. Turner looked unhappy, but he went. But later on, I happened to be standing near when he approached again.
"Mr. Turner claimed that Mrs. Harper had promised him the waltz. Mrs. Harper looked a little confused, then she said, Oh yes, of course. Colonel Brandon turned bright red. He said, Mind your manners; the lady does not wish to waltz. Mr. Turner said, You are mistaken, sir. She promised. Then Colonel Brandon said, rather loudly, If you do not cease pestering her, I will thrash you. People began to stare at that, I do not have to tell you. Mr. Turner smiled a bit and said, No, you won't. He bowed to Mrs. Harper and wandered away."
"Damn," I said, exasperated. "Brandon appears the very picture of a jealous rival."
"Yes, it was not well done. Soon after that, supper was called. Leland Derwent escorted me in, sweet boy. Colonel Brandon immediately stuck out his arm to Imogene Harper. Never mind that Louisa was standing near to them. I know it's not the thing for a husband to always escort his wife, but the snub was apparent. Brandon was red and uncomfortable. He knew what it looked like."
"And Mrs. Harper? Was she uncomfortable as well?"
"Not a bit of it." Lady Aline clicked her cup to her saucer. "She smiled sweetly at him and took his arm. He led her to the supper room and seated himself next to her, stayed glued to her throughout the meal. Louisa was not far from him, trying not to look mortified, poor lamb."
"What the devil was he thinking?"
"Precisely what Mr. Bennington asked me. He was seated on my other side. My wife runs about where she pleases, he said with a cynical smile. But she pretends to be the very picture of devotion. Of course, that is what makes her a celebrated actress. Perhaps the colonel could take lessons from her. "
"Dear God," I said. "Brandon's made himself and Louisa a laughingstock."
"I know," Lady Aline replied sadly. "That was not the worst of it."
I drank down my tea, the bitter liquid burning my tongue. "Go on," I said.
"After supper, Colonel Brandon led Mrs. Harper out of the dining room again. He monopolized her in her ballroom, kept her near him. They did not dance, but neither did she dance with anyone else. When Mr. Turner approached again, Brandon snarled at him. Mr. Turner laughed and walked away. I heard Mr. Turner say, Soon, sir. Very soon. What that meant I have no idea, but Mrs. Harper looked distressed, and Brandon grew even redder."
"Did anyone else approach them?" I asked. "Or Mr. Turner, for that matter?" I knew I needed to tamp down my anger at Brandon in order to decide what had happened. Anyone near Brandon might have stolen his knife, including Mrs. Harper herself.
"Basil Stokes spoke to them. I saw him laughing about something in that loud way of his. Colonel Brandon and Mrs. Harper endeavored to be polite. Leland Derwent spoke to them, but then, young Mr. Derwent is a stickler about making the polite rounds. He is too shy to be much of a conversationalist, but he knows to ask about one's mother or ailing sister and to remark upon the weather." Lady Aline put her forefinger to the corner of her mouth. "Let me think. Lady Gillis herself approached them. The irritating Rafe Godwin. He is an annoying young man, tries to imitate Grenville, but Grenville has nothing to do with him, and so he should not."
"What about Mr. Turner? To whom did he speak?"
"Oh, a good number of people. He circulated the room, danced with a few debutantes-whose mothers ought to have known better, but he is an earl's cousin, after all. He spent much time with Leland Derwent. I believe they knew each other at school, though I would not think that innocent Leland was much Henry Turner's type. But Leland suffers from over-politeness and doesn't have the bad manners to tell Turner to go to the devil."
I thought about the people Lady Aline had named, some of whom I knew, some I did not. I would have to discuss them with Grenville later, to obtain his opinion. One person, I noted, Lady Aline had not mentioned. "What about Lady Breckenridge?"
Lady Aline opened her mouth to answer, then she closed it again and eyed me shrewdly. "Lacey, my boy, what is exactly between you and Donata Breckenridge?"
I stopped. "Between?"
"I am not blind. I know you're not courting her, and yet… "
She left it hanging. My face heated as I touched the handle of the walking stick Lady Breckenridge had given me. "We are friends," I said. But I had kissed her lips on more than one occasion, and she had helped me when I'd needed it. I had not liked her when I'd first met her, over a billiards game in a sunny room in Kent. I'd found her abrupt, abrasive, and overly forward. "Perhaps more than friends," I finished.
"She had a wretched marriage to Breckenridge," Lady Aline said, a rather unnecessary statement. I had met Lord Breckenridge and knew exactly what kind of man he'd been. "Marriage to him would have killed a woman with a lesser strength than Donata's."
"I have no desire to make her wretched," I said.
That was the truth. On the other hand, I had not the means to marry her, either. My own wife, I'd discovered, was still alive, and in France, with my daughter. I had been given her exact whereabouts a few weeks ago, and I had been contemplating traveling across the Channel to find her.
I would go sooner or later, but I was having difficulty steeling myself to meet her again. The only thing that drove me to do it was the thought of seeing my daughter again. Gabriella would now be seventeen.
Even if I came to some arrangement with my wife, even if Grenville helped me with a divorce or annulment, I'd have little to offer Lady Breckenridge. I was a poor man, though I was a gentleman born. Lady Breckenridge marrying me would be a sad misalliance for her.