Louisa would try, I knew, for the rest of her life to reconcile us. But I had made a devil's bargain with Brandon to keep our mutual shame hidden, to quietly leave the army and say nothing. I'd taken half-pay so that I could have at least a meager income, but I doubted I'd ever take up my commission again. With the end of the war and so many officers redundant, few regiments would be interested in a fortyish, wounded captain. And so here I was, washed up on London's uncaring shores, a commander with no one left to command.
"Did you soil your slippers in Grimpen Lane tonight to tell me this?" I asked after a time. "You ought to have spared yourself the journey."
She spread her hands but gave me a smile. "I had to try. And my slippers are in a box in my carriage."
"Which I did not see outside. I refuse to believe your devoted coachman dropped you at the end of the lane and bolted for Brook Street. What are you up to?"
"If you'd seen my carriage and known I was here, you might have gone away until I gave up and went home."
"I might have, yes."
She looked at me. "I ought to have known you wouldn't come to the house. I have the devil of a time seeing you in private these days."
"Can you wonder why?"
"I know why, Gabriel. I just wish you wouldn't."
We shared a long look. Firelight touched her sleek hair, golden as sunshine. Her nose was slightly crooked, a fact I'd noticed the moment I'd met her.
I relented. "Forgive my temper, Louisa. As I said, I had a foul afternoon."
"You've not told me what happened to keep you from our appointment. I assumed you simply did not want to come."
I ran my hand though my hair, noting that it was growing long again. I needed to crop it. "It was too complex to explain in a note," I said.
"Then explain now, if you please. Are you all right?"
I sat on the room's remaining chair and rested my elbows on my knees. I had thought to spare her the sordid details of Thornton's shooting and Horne's household, but I would welcome Louisa's clarity of reason. So I told her. All of it.
I realized, as I related the tale, how little I'd truly learned from Horne. I'd discovered the existence of Mr. Denis, a man to whom one went when one wanted artwork or women, but I'd discovered little else. I could have demanded to search the house, but it had done Jane's father little good. The possibility also existed that Alice and Mr. Thornton had mistaken the house. Jane could have gone into number 23 or number 21, or to a house on a different side of the square altogether.
I wanted Horne to be guilty, I guessed, because I'd disliked him. But I had no more proof than Thornton had-only the evidence of an obscene faux-Egyptian frieze and a feeling in my bones.
Louisa's eyes glinted in outrage. "Lieutenant Gale ordered the poor man shot?"
"I don't know if he gave the order. The cornet who did it was young and green, and maybe he simply took it into his head to fire. Gale did not even know why he'd been sent instead of a magistrate." I paused in disgust. "He never questions an opportunity to parade about in his uniform and look important."
Louisa sat forward, her gray eyes alight. "Do you plan to continue looking for the girl?"
"I want to find her. You did not see the Thorntons, Louisa. She was all they had."
"How will you search for her?"
I had debated this while I rode home in the stale-smelling hackney. "Put up notices. Go to Bow Street. Pomeroy, one of my sergeants, became a Runner. I can pry information from him even if I can't afford to hire him."
"Offer a reward," she suggested.
I opened my hands. "I have nothing to offer. But I can question the neighbors and Horne's servants. Someone must know something about her."
Louisa moved to the edge of her seat, familiar determination on her face. "I will supply the reward. We can offer five pounds. That will be enough to bring people out of the woodwork."
"A good many people, I'd imagine."
"And give me the Thorntons' direction. I will go to them. I might be able to help them."
"They do need it." I reached forward and took her cool hand in mine. "Your kindness, Louisa, always astonishes me."
She looked at me in surprise. "Why should it? Being charitable is a duty. You must find that poor girl, Gabriel." She hesitated. "But let it end there."
"That means what, exactly?"
"You know what it means. I know what you are like."
I gave her a half-smile. "What you mean to say is, don't pursue Horne and Denis and make them believe in the wrath of God."
"Yes. Leave it be."
I released her. "They might be safe from me. They may have had nothing to do with the abduction. I have not yet decided. I saw no sign of a young woman at Horne's today, except for the maid, and I do not think she was Jane. She was definitely working class, and decidedly odd."
Louisa watched me. "If they do have something to do with it, what will you do?"
"I have not decided that either."
"There is not much you can do, even if they are guilty."
I grew annoyed. "Why are you adamant about sparing Horne? He is an oily bastard and up to something. The maid hinted as much."
"Because the last time I saw you go off with this much fervor, that happened." She pointed to my left knee.
It twinged, reminding me it still ached and would punish me the rest of the night for abusing it. "The last time, I was a damned fool, and I trusted your husband and his honor. That was my great mistake. I'll not make the same again."
Her voice softened. "It has been two years, Gabriel."
I'd known I could not divert her from her original purpose for long. "And every day of that two years has reminded me what I gave up. When I agreed to leave the army, I had no idea I would be living this"-I gestured to my barren rooms-"this half-existence."
Her gray eyes darkened. "Has it been that?"
"You know it has."
"You have many friends-you have the acquaintance of Mr. Grenville."
"Yes, yes, everyone believes that being smiled upon by Mr. Grenville is the same thing as being touched by God."
"But because of him, you are invited everywhere."
"Only so that the ton can peer at me and wonder what Grenville sees in me. And I never thought you believed that a person's worth was derived from how many invitations he receives."
Louisa smiled. "I am trying to point out that you are more than your army career. The war is over anyway. Most army men no longer have careers."
"Many of them had something to return to. I never did. That is why I followed your husband in the first place." I clenched my hand. "I believe I have done enough for the Brandon family without you forcing me into a false reconciliation."
Louisa's eyes were clearest gray, like the sea under clouds. The firelight picked out the flat gold buttons on her spencer, a jacket of almost military rigidity. "You must have loved him once," she said, "to spare his honor as you did."
"I did not do it for his honor, Louisa. I did it for yours."
Louisa stared at me in shock. "You never told me that."
I pressed my fist tightly against my thigh. "I would not have. But I want you to understand. When Brandon worried so about his honor, he never once spoke of the fact that his disgrace would also be yours. You would suffer as much or more indignity than he, and worse, you'd be pitied. Your own misery never occurred to him, and for that, I will not forgive him."
She drew a sharp breath, lips parted, and I wished I had not spoken. The last thing I wanted to do was make Louisa Brandon believe that my current state was her fault. It had been my choice. I could have sunk Brandon and taken Louisa with me to Canada. But she loved the undeserving idiot, and I couldn't have borne to hurt her.
She rose in agitation and made for the door. I reached it before she did and blocked her exit. "Where are you going?"