"Thank you," I said tiredly. "That does help. Thank Louisa for questioning Champlain on my behalf."
Brandon should have simply said, "Not at all," and left the room. I wished he would. But he remained fixed there on the carpet as though he still had plenty to say. Every muscle in my body tensed.
Brandon cleared his throat, and my muscles tightened all the more. "Out on the boat," he said. "You might have killed us all, trying to save that girl."
"I know."
"That is why I tried to stop you."
"I know."
He cleared his throat again, looked uncomfortable, and clenched his fists at his sides. "It was well done, Lacey. Even if it was bloody stupid."
My lips cracked as I smiled. "High praise from my brave commander."
Brandon glared at me, his face reddening. Again, I wished he'd go away. I was too weary to fence with him and wanted to sleep. I hoped to God he did not intend to offer his forgiveness for my sins past and present. I did not think I could stomach it just now.
His lip curled. "Such things are why you never rose higher than captain, Gabriel. As admirable as you may be."
I felt my temper stir beneath my hurt and tiredness, but I closed my eyes and willed it to silence. "Are you finished?"
When I opened my eyes again, it was to see Brandon's face a mask of undisguised fury. Had he come here hoping to provoke a reconciliation? If he had, he was a fool.
Brandon breathed heavily in the silence. "The way you have played it, Gabriel, we will never be finished."
I waited for him to explain what he meant by that, but Brandon snapped his mouth shut and turned on his heel. He said nothing more, not a good-night or best wishes for my health. He simply stalked away, letting the slam of the door behind him tell me what he thought of my rudeness.
I slid my eyes closed, threads of pain winding through my head. It took me a long time to drift again to sleep.
Staying with Grenville gave me time not only to heal and think, but also to come to know him better. He was a complex man who took three hours to dress for supper, yet could practice philanthropy in meaningful and useful ways. He had acquaintances across all classes and held prejudice only against a man who would not think for himself.
He admired beautiful women and had had discreet affairs with duchesses and actresses alike, but Grenville had never found a woman he'd wanted to marry. I told him dryly that it was just as well; his bride would have no room in his house for her own mirror, and he laughed and supposed I had hit upon a truth.
The evening before I returned home, Grenville entered my chamber looking rather bewildered.
"I've just had a visit from your Marianne Simmons."
I came alert, remembering how I'd told her to apply to Grenville for her ten guineas. "I'm sorry, Grenville, I ought to have warned you about that. She brought me some interesting information, and I sent her to you so she would leave me alone. I'd forgotten about it."
"It is no matter. She is rather-overwhelming, is she not?"
"It's how she survives."
Grenville looked troubled. "And yet, I found myself giving her twenty guineas."
"Twenty? I told her ten, the wretch."
"She asked for ten. But then I saw that her shoes were cheap and shabby. No one should go about poorly shod, Lacey. I told her of a shoemaker in Oxford Street and instructed her to tell them I'd sent her."
"What did she say to that?" I asked.
"She told me I was a gentleman. And then she said a few things that brought a blush to my cheek. I'll admit to you, Lacey, though I've traveled the world, I've never met anyone like her."
"You may count yourself fortunate for that."
Grenville gave me a sharp look. "There is nothing between you, is there?"
"Between Marianne and myself? Good Lord, no. She likes only wealthy gentleman. I would have a care, were I you."
He looked at me a long moment. "I believe that is good advice. Thank you, Lacey."
Grenville rang for wine and shared it with me, but he drank deeply of his and sat in silence most of the evening.
I returned home to find that, despite her twenty guineas, Marianne had taken all my candles, and I was obliged to visit the chandlers to acquire more. The quietness of my return and the fact that I went from candle shop to pub and back home without being accosted reaffirmed my idea that Denis had abducted me not to kill me but to show me where I stood in his world.
I understood his message. I was to stay out of his way.
My mind spun with things I needed to do, but my body was too tired to do them. I'd written to young Philip Preston with my apologies for missing our appointment for riding instruction, and I needed to write again to set another date. On the weekend, Grenville and I would travel to Hampstead, where I would speak with Lord Sommerville. I'd pay a visit to the Beauchamps as well, having made my decision as to what I'd tell them. As to the whereabouts of Jane Thornton and the identity of Horne's killer, my mind balked. I knew who had killed Horne and why, but I did not want to know this. The world was happy with Bremer as the culprit; let him satisfy the world.
I also wasted time missing Janet. I wished for the hundredth time I'd never gone to Arbuthnot's to view that damned painting-I'd met an attractive woman there, Mrs. Danbury, who made it plain she had no interest in me, and I'd chanced upon Janet. God had been amusing himself with me that night.
I should have stayed longer at Grenville's, I reflected as I lit a candle in the darkness of my rooms. He at least diverted me with talk and food and drink. Here I was alone with my thoughts, my memories, and my past. I needed action.
Pomeroy had told me I was mad. Brandon agreed with him. Grenville thought so too. Louisa understood me a little better, but even she was fond of telling me how imprudent I was. All of them were right about me.
I changed into my regimentals, hobbled to the hackney stand in Covent Garden market, and took myself to the house of James Denis.
Chapter Twenty-Three
"You'll forgive my precautions, Captain." Denis touched his fingertips together and regarded me calmly from a brocade wing chair. "I assume you did not call on me to apologize for setting my boat alight."
Upon my arrival, two of his thugs had thoroughly searched me for weapons and had taken away my walking stick, which Grenville had had repaired for me.
But the fact that Denis would not let me near him without searching me satisfied me a little. I did not make him feel safe.
"You are curious as to why I came," I said. "Or you never would have let me in."
He gave a single nod. "I admit, I am slightly curious. But I have an appointment in a half-hour's time, so please be brief."
I had no intention of being brief. "I've had much time to think this past week. It occurred to me that Josiah Horne was a man of sordid and vulgar taste."
Denis raised his sleek brows. "Please do not tell me that you traveled all the way to Mayfair to inform me of this obvious fact."
"The abduction of Jane Thornton smells of his vulgarity. To lure an innocent girl from her family, to take pleasure in her ruin-that fits with Josiah Horne and his way of life."
Denis looked pained. "Indeed."
"It occurred to me, however, that such a mode of business is not typical of you. You work for the rich and the discreet. You steal precious paintings from under Bonaparte's nose. Your business is a subtle one; you have networks scattered far and wide. You make wishes come true with seeming ease."
"You flatter me."
"I've had time to mull over the risk and the foolish theatricality of Jane Thornton's abduction, put together with what I've learned about you. I wondered why a man with your exactitude would want to do such a thing. And then it struck me. You had nothing to do with it."