“What does Marianne say about you running away?”
“Quite a bit.” Grenville sent me a wan smile across the desk. “But she also says that by then she will be happy to see the back of me. I assured her it is only for a few months—we do not want to stay longer than the first part of April, when the temperatures begin to climb, especially in the driest regions. I believe that will be enough time for us to explore the wonders and not become too used to them.”
“I look forward to it,” I said with all sincerity.
“As do I.” Grenville rose. “Now I am off to speak to vicars. Imagine what rumors that will start.” He sounded weary, but I saw a sparkle in his eyes. He enjoyed baffling the ton.
When he’d gone, I was restless. Donata and Gabriella were not home yet—I imagined they’d sleep well into the afternoon. Then they’d linger to have a good gossip about the events of the night before.
I longed to rush back to Cavendish Square and shake Bennett, but I stopped myself. I did not want to alert him that I was closing in on him. I trusted Denis’s men to keep him pinned down, but Bennett was cunning. Grenville had the right of it—if he knew I was onto him, he might find a way to bolt past even Denis’s diligent guards.
Meanwhile, I contained my restlessness with a ride in Hyde Park.
The day was truly delicious, the grass bright green, roses blooming, the Serpentine sparkling under the sunshine. The Rotten Row was nearly deserted, and I set my horse into a fast canter, letting his speed clear the fogged thoughts in my brain.
I saw as I neared the end of the Row, close to Hyde Park Corner, the red Irish hunter who had tried to run down Peter, being quietly ridden toward me. I halted in surprise.
On its back was none other than Emmett Garfield, my daughter’s would-be suitor.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I nudged my horse forward. The hunter coming toward me trotted evenly, Mr. Garfield rising and falling expertly with its pace.
I guided my mount directly into Mr. Garfield’s path, halting and turning to put the breadth of my horse in front of his.
Garfield pulled up and blinked at me from under his tall hat. “Sir?” He remembered his manners and bowed in the saddle. “Good morning.”
“Where did you get that horse?” I demanded.
Mr. Garfield cast a startled look at his mount as though for a moment, he couldn’t remember. “From Lord Compton. I sometimes borrow him.” He patted the horse’s neck, its rich coat gleaming with care. “Lord Compton and my father are old friends.”
“Did you borrow the horse on Thursday last?” I went on remorselessly.
Garfield looked puzzled. I noticed he was behaving less the conceited man-about-town as he had in the ballrooms, and more an ordinary young man confused by his elders.
“No, sir. Thursday last I was in Surrey. All day. I did not return until the next morning.”
His answer displeased me. I could easily verify where he’d been by asking his friends and family—or having Grenville do it—so he had no reason to lie. I remembered now, that at the supper ball on Friday, when I’d met him, he’d spoken of an uncle in Surrey and his visit to him.
Logic told me that Mr. Garfield would not profit by hurting me or Peter. He might believe that laying me up or killing me would prevent me from objecting to his marrying Gabriella, but it would not benefit him to hurt Peter.
Nor would it help Mr. Garfield if I were ruined, as the blackmailing letters threatened. A disgrace to me and my family was a disgrace to Gabriella. I doubted Garfield’s father would condone him bringing home a bride with scandal attached to her. If my antecedents were publicly called into question, so would hers be.
I let out a long sigh that stirred my now-nervous mount. I calmed him with a hand to his shoulder. “Does Viscount Compton lend his horse out often?”
Garfield considered. “I suppose so. He knows a great many people.”
Bloody hell. And this might not even be the horse in question. The hunter housed at the park’s stables, gone missing during the day of the attack, was the likelier culprit.
“I beg your pardon for my abruptness, Mr. Garfield. I am out of sorts today. A horse like that was ridden at my stepson last week, nearly knocking him to the ground.”
“I heard about that, sir.” Mr. Garfield looked appropriately indignant. “Miss Lacey told me. I understand your agitation then, upon seeing a similar horse.”
I was not in a good enough temper to have a young man tell me of conversations with my daughter, but I supposed I would have to become used to it.
“When you return the horse today, will you ask Lord Compton who else he lent him to? Last Thursday to be precise.”
“Of course, sir.” Garfield saluted me with his crop, eager to help.
“A long shot, possibly,” I said. “But I would be grateful of the information.”
Garfield nodded, but he made no move to continue riding. “Now that I have met you by chance, sir … No, I confess, not by chance. I was told how often you ride early in the park. I want to tell you that I have every wish to—”
“Stop.” I cut him off with a raised hand. “Not today, Mr. Garfield. I am in no mood.”
“But, sir, I long to—”
“No.” The word was sharp enough to make him draw back. “Not now. Call upon me … in a few years’ time.”
He looked startled. “Years …”
“Good day, Mr. Garfield.”
I heard him draw breath to argue, but I swung my horse around and rode off before he could say another word.
***
By the time I returned to South Audley Street, Brewster, who had been following me doggedly, announced that Denis wanted to see me.
“How the devil do you know?” I asked crossly as I left the mews, where I’d handed the horse to Donata’s groom. “You have been standing at the edge of the Row, staring at me the last hour.”
“Lad came with a message. I’m to bring you to him directly.”
I did not always like to run to Denis when he beckoned, but he had been good to lend me the men to keep watch last night on Bennett and at Lady Aline’s. “Very well,” I said, swallowing my impatience.
Not long later, I entered Denis’s house, which was quiet today, and pulled myself up the now familiar staircase to the austere study at the top of the landing.
Denis was at his desk, writing something, his pen scratching in the silence. He continued, ignoring me, while I was shown to my usual chair by the unyielding butler.
After a time, Denis laid down his pen, sanded the paper, and set it aside.
He folded his long hands on the desk’s top and looked at me. “You travel to Egypt in the winter.”
Not a question. I would not be surprised if Denis knew our complete itinerary before I did.
“That is so,” I replied.
“There is an object, in Alexandria, that I would like you to acquire for me.”
Ah. I realized the reason he’d so readily sent his men to help me with Gabriella’s come-out and with Bennett. Denis’s services were never without cost.
“Acquire,” I repeated. “How?”
Denis gave a small shrug. “Bargain for it. Purchase it. I will send a sum of money with you. You, I trust with such an amount. If the price is higher, you or Mr. Grenville will have to furnish the difference. But I want the object.”
“What is it? Something important, if you are willing to send me for it. It must be an object I’d not throw away to spite you.”
“That would be foolish indeed. I will keep a description of it to myself until you are ready to leave. I would not want others to know of my interest and acquire it before I can.”
“I am not a teller of tales,” I said stiffly.
“You would remark upon it to Mr. Grenville, who might let it slip to his paramour, who might let it slip to a friend … The best way to keep a secret, Lacey, is to tell it to no one.”
“I concede your point,” I said dryly. “Shall you convey your instructions to me in a sealed letter, warning me not to open it until I am in Egypt?”