As the carriage moved past the tall houses of Piccadilly, I asked, “Shall we adjourn to Grenville’s so that you might look at my grisly treasure?” It was after ten in the morning, and the road teemed with carts, horses, people, dogs—the metropolis going about its business.
“An excellent idea,” Donata answered. “He dislikes rising early.”
“I will never become used to the idea that any hour before one in the afternoon is early.”
“That is because you are country bred,” she said decidedly. “Rising and retiring as the sun does. We in Town draw the curtains and light the lamps, making time as we like.”
“And yet, to arrive before or after a certain hour in some places is not done,” I remarked. “So you follow the clock to some degree.”
“Only when we please. Call to Hagen and tell him to take us to Grosvenor Street. If Grenville is not awake, it shall be his own fault for missing my speculations on the corpse.”
I complied. When we arrived at Grenville’s plain front door, we found that he was indeed out of bed, and that Marianne Simmons was with him.
Chapter Nine
“Of course, Lacey, you would interrupt,” Marianne said to me as Matthias ushered us into the dining room.
Matthias had told us, upon answering the door, that Mr. Grenville was not at home, then leaned closer and whispered he knew that Grenville would be incensed if Matthias turned us away. And so we were admitted.
Marianne and Grenville sat very close together at one end of the table, a lavish breakfast spread before them. Their heads bent to each other’s as they made quiet comments, their words punctuated with soft laughter.
Marianne wore a flowing peignoir of gray shimmering material, its placket lined with lace. Grenville was, for him, in dishabille, in a long dressing gown called a banyan, with no waistcoat, the neck of his shirt loose.
When Marianne heard my step, her amiable look fled, her frown set in, and she voiced her admonishment.
“I beg your pardon,” I said, bowing. “We did not know we would disturb you.”
Marianne spied Donata behind me, and her expression changed to one of neutrality and some caution. Marianne still did not know quite what to make of Donata.
On the one hand, Donata did not censure Grenville, or Marianne for that matter, for their public affaire de coeur, but then again, Donata was an earl’s daughter, and although she was unconventional, Marianne was still a bit nervous around her.
Grenville looked slightly more embarrassed than Marianne to be caught in a private moment, but he surged to his feet and bowed to Donata.
“Never bestir yourself,” Donata said to him. “Gabriel has brought me to look at the bones, as promised.”
Marianne’s brows climbed as Donata added another unfathomable facet to her character.
“Matthias can take us down,” I offered quickly. “Anton would not be pleased if you rushed away from his breakfast.”
“Indeed,” Grenville agreed. He had recovered his aplomb and became his usual gallant self. “Are you certain, Donata? Please do not distress yourself with this bad business.”
“I shan’t.” Donata turned away, her large shawl sliding to bare the glittering gold net over silk of her evening gown.
The waistline of the gown rode high under her bosom, the fashions of this Season perfect for hiding her increasing figure. She’d removed the necklace of heavy stones she’d worn to the opera—they now reposed in my pocket—but it was quite obvious that Donata had been out all night, and equally obvious that I had not.
Grenville, who set the standards of politeness for the ton, said not a word. Marianne did not either, though I was certain that as soon as we were in the cellars, the two would speculate about us.
Matthias led us off to the back stairs, retracing the route he’d taken us last night. This time, the servants weren’t warned away—they moved aside and bowed or curtsied respectfully as we passed, but they did not let us slow them in their industry.
“I am pleased to see Grenville happy,” I remarked as we moved through the servants’ area.
Matthias shot me a look. “Miss Simmons, if you don’t mind me saying so, sir, does take a bit of getting used to.”
“She is uncertain of her position,” I said. “Be patient with her.”
“She can be kindhearted, when the fit takes her,” Matthias conceded.
I feared that Donata would be sickened by the sight of the body. Her condition was already delicate, but when Matthias carefully lifted the sheet we’d draped over the pieced-together skeleton, Donata gave only one faint, sharp inhalation, and then went silent.
She touched her hand to her mouth, but not because she was ill. Tears glistened on her lashes.
“The poor thing,” Donata said, her voice low. “I am ashamed of my curiosity now.”
I looked down at what used to be a young woman, and shared Donata’s pity. Matthias too, was somber.
Donata went on. “She was left, alone under the water, and no one came for her.” She looked up at me, eyes full of compassion. “Please discover who did this, Gabriel, and unleash your temper on him. I will help you in the endeavor as much as I am able.”
***
When we returned to the dining room, there were two more places set at the table and several additional covered trays on the sideboard.
“No need,” I said. “We have breakfasted.”
“You have not,” Donata said. “Eat, please, or you will make yourself ill. I am already ravenous again, so I thank you for your kindness, Grenville.”
She seated herself, nodding graciously at the footman who brought her coffee. I filled two plates at the sideboard, my stomach growling now, reminding me that I’d taken in nothing since last night before we’d departed for the opera.
Marianne had moved to another chair. From her glance down the table, she wondered whether she should remain in the room at all, but Donata showed no concern that she shared a table with an actress who had been little better than a courtesan.
The two ladies had been companionable enough when we’d traveled to Bath, or whenever Marianne shared Grenville’s box at Covent Garden and Drury Lane, but this was his Mayfair home, a different venue. Grenville was defying convention for bringing her to his house—he ought to keep his ladybird in her separate lodging.
This told me first that Grenville cared very much for Marianne. He’d never have risked censure otherwise.
It also told me he was tiring of London and the close scrutiny of his fellow men. He was a traveller at heart, and I sensed him impatient to be away. I wondered if he’d take Marianne with him when he went.
“Gautier has already been a mine of information,” Grenville informed me as I began to eat. “He has given me a list of jewelers who might repair a necklace such as the one found on the young lady, and he has already begun making inquiries. I expect to have a shorter list before the day is very old.”
Donata clinked silver to porcelain, looking as at home eating in the elegant chamber as she had at the secondhand table in my rooms. “The Runners should employ valets in their number,” she suggested. “Gentlemen’s gentlemen certainly know more about trade in London than any foot patrollers.”
“Gautier would agree, dear lady. Lacey, once we are presentable, I propose a visit to the man your surgeon suggested—Coombs was his name?”
I knew Grenville remembered the man’s name precisely—Jonas Coombs—but it would hardly do for a dandy of the ton to betray he had much interest in anything beyond clothes, horses, and women.
“I believe Gabriel is avid to go immediately,” Donata said. “Once Bartholomew decides that he is fit to be seen, Gabriel will return and rush off with you.”
Grenville took a languid sip of coffee. “Lacey, I believe your wife is poking fun at us.”