"Lady Breckenridge saw you."
Mrs. Danbury stared with tear-filled eyes. "Did she? She not say so."
"She has her own sense of honor," I said. "She thought it would be unfair to you."
Mrs. Danbury looked puzzled but merely wiped her nose again. "I know ought to have told you, Captain, but I was utterly humiliated. I did not want you to know I'd been anywhere near the man, and I did not want you to believe I'd killed him. I could only imagine that you'd share the story with Mr. Grenville, and then it would be all over London."
"You mistake me," I said in surprise. "I would never have done such a thing."
"I know that now." Mrs. Danbury gave me a regretful smile. "Uncle and Leland believe that you are the most honorable gentleman alive. But I could scarcely credit that you were as fine as they painted you."
"Because they are apt to believe the very best of everyone."
"They do." Her smile held more warmth. "But I am beginning to believe they are correct about you."
A warmth began in my breastbone. "Your uncle and cousin are far kinder than I deserve. But I have some blame in this-Inglethorpe ought to have been flogged, but I was the one who so foolishly left my walking stick behind in the first place."
"Do not blame yourself, Captain. I ought to have left well enough alone."
"You had no need to bother returning the walking stick directly to me, you know. You could have left it with Sir Gideon-I was due to dine here, or Sir Gideon could have sent it on to me."
"Yes, I know. I thought of that." She reddened. "But you see, Captain, I thought it would be much more pleasant to return it to you myself."
I regarded her in surprise. She sounded suddenly shy. Shy, when I knew this woman was popular in society and courted by some of the most eligible bachelors in London.
"You are kind," I said, my voice softening.
Her shyness fell away, and her look turned almost flirtatious. "I so enjoyed waltzing with you, Captain, that I rather hoped I could do it again."
Heat suffused my face. "I made quite a cake of myself leaping about like a caper merchant. I apologize for that liberty."
"I seem to recall I did not mind in the least." Mrs. Danbury flashed me a smile. It was a nice smile, one that deepened the corners of her mouth. While this lady was much more aware of the world than her ingenuous cousins, she still possessed their sweetness.
She took my arm. "Shall we walk?"
We strolled together to the garden. The January night was colder now, far too cold for traversing garden paths, but the Derwents seemed to create a warmth of their own. Soon we were laughing and talking together, never minding the weather. Mrs. Danbury's story relieved me, and I let myself enjoy the rest of the evening.
The chill in my heart returned with a vengeance when I entered my rooms later that night and found Kensington there, waiting for me.
Chapter Eighteen
Kensington sat before of my fire, which he'd stoked high, and he'd lit all my candles. The light fell on his round face, which looked a bit haggard.
"Good evening, Captain," he said. "I am a bit put out with you."
I closed the door. I had told Bartholomew to return to Grenville's to visit his brother tonight, knowing that I'd soon be taking him off with me to Berkshire. Kensington would never have gained admittance had Bartholomew remained.
"For Sir Montague's visit with Lady Jane?" I asked. "I cannot apologize for that."
Kensington smiled, but the smile was strained. "I recall telling you on my last visit that you would pay for what you have done, Captain. Your nose may not be as long as your friend Grenville's, but you continue to push it where it does not belong."
I remained by the door, Grenville's stout walking stick in my hand. "Hasn't Sir Montague arrested you, yet?"
"I decided not to remain at home and give him the opportunity. When one of my informers heard he'd gone to see Lady Jane this afternoon, I made myself scarce. I am not naive enough to believe that the bitch would not betray me. So I have set plans in motion. But before I disappear for good, I wanted to visit you and let you know what I think of you and your deeds."
"I already know what you think of them. And I know what I think of yours."
"I did not kill Peaches and Lord Barbury, Captain, much as you wish I had."
"I have concluded that," I said. "That does not mean you are guilty of nothing. You kept a young girl in that house for your filthy customers. I am willing to hazard that there have been others. I am only happy that Peaches found a way to make you squirm."
Kensington shook his head. "Amelia was never a sweet innocent, Captain. Always hard as nails, she was."
"You made her so," I said, the walking stick warm under my palm. "I know that Peaches was not angelic; her life must have been harsh-I imagine she spent many years being pawed at by lecherous men wanting a pretty young actress. But I still cannot help wishing Peaches alive, and you dead."
He smile became sickly. "You will not kill me, Captain. You are a man of honor."
"What I will likely do is haul you around the corner to Bow Street and give you over to Pomeroy. My former sergeant is not terribly scrupulous about how he obtains a confession."
"No, you will not, Captain," Kensington said, sounding too certain for my taste. "I am leaving England, and you will keep your bullying Runner and magistrate friends from following me."
"Will I?" I slapped the walking stick to my hand. Ebony was a strong wood, good and solid.
Kensington's small, smug smile returned. "I realize that you present a danger to me, Captain Lacey. I also very much want my revenge. And I have it. I will leave unmolested for the Continent, or a lady you care for very much will not return home this night."
I went still, my blood turning to ice. Then I was across the room, my hands at his throat.
Kensington yelped. "Strangle me and you'll not know what becomes of her!"
I barely heard him through my berserker fury. We struggled in the corner, he trying to get away from me, me doing my best to throttle him. I was stronger, but he used his weight to counter me. We grappled, he punched me with heavy fists.
I had never mentioned Louisa Brandon in his presence, but it would not have been difficult for him to discern my friendship with her. It was common knowledge that I and the Brandons were close, and Kensington or his lackeys could have seen me speaking to her at the theatre last night, riding with her in the park today.
I would have killed him I think, and what would have happened to her I scarce dare imagine. As it was, Kensington kicked me hard in the left knee, a lucky shot but effective.
I loosed him in a flare of pain. Kensington ducked from my hold and raced for the door.
I shot after him. I could run on my leg when I was afraid or enraged, and I was both. Despite his kick, I was only five steps behind him on the stairs and closer still while he fumbled with the door.
Outside, the stones were slick, but plenty of people milled about, despite the dark and cold. Kensington wove through the crowd, and I pounded behind. "Stop him!" I shouted.
The good citizens of Grimpen Lane and Russel Street hastened to oblige. Unfortunately, too many of them did, and they got in my way while trying to seize the elusive Kensington.
My leg gave out with an abruptness that paralyzed me. One moment I was running, the next, and I was on the pavement. I caught my knee, moaning and cursing. More concerned citizens stood over me, offering advice and sympathy.
"Did anyone catch him?" I ground out.
Heads were shaken. No one had. I sank back, my head pounding, my knee throbbing in pain.