"Yes, Papa." Meredith hopped down from the carriage and started to regale the footman with details of the thrilling performance she had just witnessed.
Augusta gave Harry an inquiring glance. "Yes, my lord?"
He hesitated and then took the plunge. "I am going on to meet Sheldrake at one of my clubs."
"More investigations, I suppose."
"Yes. However, the three of us—Sally, Sheldrake, and myself—have arranged to hold a conference much later tonight. We are going to discuss everything we know about the investigation so far and see if we can find some answers. You may join us if you like."
Augusta's eyes widened. "Oh, Harry. Truly?"
"You have some rights in this matter, my dear. Perhaps I have been wrong to exclude you."
"My lord, how can I ever thank you?"
"Well, I—umph." Harry was taken by surprise as Augusta threw her arms around him.
She hugged him ecstatically even though the door of the carriage stood wide open and at least one groom and a footman had a full view of the interior.
"What time shall I expect you back here, Harry?"
"Uh, somewhere around three o'clock this morning." He gently untwined her arms from around his neck, aware that his body was already reacting to the soft, round contours of hers. "Be in the library. We shall take the shortcut through the garden."
"I will be there." Her smile was more brilliant than the lights over the stage at Astley's.
Harry waited until she was safely inside the house and then he signaled his coachman to drive on to the club, where he was to meet Peter. As the vehicle moved off, Harry tried to assure himself that he was doing the right thing by allowing Augusta into the heart of the small group involved in the investigation.
He might be doing the right thing, but he was definitely going against his own better judgment. Harry gazed thoughtfully out the window, aware of a deep sense of unease.
Peter Sheldrake, stylish as always in trousers and an elaborately ruffled shirt, was just coming out of the card room when Harry walked into the club. He was carrying a bottle of claret, which he waved cheerfully at Harry.
"Oh-ho. I see you have survived the evening's frivolity. Come join me in a glass or two and tell me all about the wondrous sights you must have seen at Astley's. Took a couple of nephews there once a few years back. It was all I could do to keep them from signing on with the bareback riding troop."
Harry smiled reluctantly as he followed Peter to a private corner of the room and sat down. "I was concerned I might face a similar problem myself. And it was not just Meredith I feared losing to the stage. I have a suspicion that Augusta was entertaining dreams of glory, too."
"Well, look at it from her point of view," Peter said with a mocking grin. "Being the Countess of Graystone probably seems rather dull compared to the notion of performing daring feats of horsemanship in front of a cheering crowd. Think of the applause. Think of the cheers. Think of the gentlemen leering down from the upper boxes."
Harry grimaced. "Don't remind me. As it happens, however, Augusta's life is about to become a bit more exciting."
"Oh?" Peter took a swallow of claret. "How is that? Are you going to allow her to go about without a fichu to fill in the neckline of her gowns? What a thrill that will be for her."
Harry shot Peter a brief, quelling glare and wondered glumly if perhaps he had been something of a tyrant about Augusta's gowns. "We shall see how you feel about the subject of your wife's choice of necklines after you are married."
"So we shall." Peter chuckled.
"What I was going to tell you about Augusta's exciting new life is that she will be joining you and me and Sally later tonight when we have our meeting."
Sheldrake sputtered and frantically swallowed claret. He stared at Harry. "Bloody hell. You're going to allow her to get involved in this thing? Do you think that's wise, Graystone?"
"Probably not."
"With everything pointing toward her brother, it's bound to be painful for her."
"It's obvious Ballinger was involved in this mess somehow. But trust me, Sheldrake, when I tell you that there's no way he could have been the Spider."
"If you say so." Peter looked sceptical.
"I do. What we have now are strong indications that someone very much wants us to believe the Spider died two years ago." Harry quickly ran through a description of the journal Augusta had found in the lane behind the town house.
"Good God," Sheldrake breathed. "The journal is real? Not a fake that someone fixed up to trick us?"
"I am certain it is real. I will tell you truthfully, Sheldrake, it gives me a cold chill to think about who may have been watching Augusta in that lane last night."
"I see what you mean."
Harry was about to discuss the details of what he had discovered in the journal when he realized that Lovejoy was crossing the room to join them. The man's green eyes glittered with bored menace.
So many bored and dangerous men floating about London like so much flotsam after the storm of war, Harry thought.
"Good evening, Graystone. Sheldrake. I am surprised to find you both here tonight. Would have thought you'd have been dancing attendance on your ladies. Congratulations on your engagement, by the way, Sheldrake. Although, I must say, it was rather unsporting of you to remove one of the few viable heiresses from the scene. Not much left for the rest of us to choose from, hmmm?"
"I am certain you will find one to your taste," Peter murmured.
Harry turned the half-empty glass of claret in his hand, studying the ruby highlights. "Was there something you wanted, Lovejoy?"
"As a matter of fact, there was. Thought I'd warn you both that there's a master cracksman operating in Town these days. Broke into my library a few weeks ago."
Harry looked at him without expression. "Is that so? Did you report the loss to the magistrate?"
"Nothing was taken that cannot easily be replaced." Lovejoy smiled coldly, turned, and left.
Harry and Peter sat in meditative silence for a few minutes.
"You may have to do something about Lovejoy," Peter finally observed.
"Yes, it would appear so." Harry shook his head. "The only thing I do not understand is why he has settled on me as his target."
"In the beginning, he was probably simply intent on seducing Augusta for the hell of it. But now he has no doubt reasoned out that you ruined his little game by breaking into his library to get Augusta's vowels. He would no doubt like to even the score. He has not had the opportunity because you have been out of town for the past few weeks."
"I shall keep an eye on him."
"Do that. I would assume from his not-so-veiled threats that he will try to use Augusta to gain his revenge."
Harry thought about that as he finished his claret. "I still believe there is more in this Lovejoy business than meets the eye. Perhaps it is time I paid another late-night visit to his library."
"I shall go with you. It might prove interesting." Peter grinned slowly. "But surely you do not intend to try anything like that tonight. Your schedule is already rather crowded this evening."
"You are quite right. Some other evening when I am free. We have other important business tonight."
Augusta was pacing the library when Harry and Peter arrived. She had dressed appropriately for the adventure. She was wearing a black velvet cloak over her black gown, a pair of matching black gloves, and black velvet half boots. She had chosen the boots because she thought they would stand up to a tramp through the garden and down the lane better than her pumps or slippers.
She had sent the staff to bed hours ago and had been fidgeting with excitement ever since. The significance of being invited to join Harry and his friends tonight nearly overwhelmed her. She had gained admission to his special circle at last.