“The guest lists from both affairs have been checked,” Griffin said, walking behind her. “The young gentleman who danced with Edlyn is apparently distraught by what has happened.”
Harriet wandered toward the antechamber. Weed and several other footmen stood at the buffet table laid with light refreshments. For a moment she and the senior footman stared at each other in a thoughtful scrutiny, as if by doing so one of them might dredge up some forgotten detail that would prove helpful.
“Edlyn was sitting in those chairs by the door,” Griffin said. “There were people standing by her, but she-”
“-was drinking punch, I think,” Harriet said, “and talking with a woman who had her back to us.”
Weed followed them, bowing deeply. “Your grace, if I may speak?” The duke turned.
“I was present when Sir Daniel interviewed the guests who had gathered in this chamber on both occasions. None of them admitted to conversing with Miss Edlyn. But I do believe Miss Gardner is correct. There was a woman, your grace, and I cannot place her name to the guest list.”
Griffin nodded. “I think you are both right, but I shall be damned if I can describe her at all.”
“She was wearing a green dress,” Harriet said, contemplating the empty row of chairs. “And she might not have wanted us to see her. She left through that side door as soon as we entered the room.”
Weed paled. “Despite the staff’s stringent efforts, one or two intruders often manage to sneak into the marquess’s home during these affairs.” He paused. If Harriet was afraid he might mention her, he quickly proved he was too professional to be misguided from his current duty. “I shall question the servants at length, your grace.”
“All I remember,” Griffin said as he and Harriet walked back across the ballroom to his aunt and the marchioness, “is that I thought Edlyn was safe. And that-that you were the one in danger.”
Harriet slowed to look up at him. “From you?”
His lips tightened. “I wasn’t wrong, was I?”
“I expect we won’t know what was right or wrong until we’re able to think properly.”
He smiled tiredly. “Yes, and that time cannot come soon enough.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
His words had a strange effect upon me. I compassionated him and sometimes felt a wish to console him.
MARY SHELLEY
Frankenstein
The strain had dampened everyone’s spirits. Lady Powlis appeared to be on the verge of an emotional crisis and had to be taken upstairs by the marchioness to await the family’s Scottish physician, who dosed her ladyship with laudanum and advised a night of unbroken rest.
Her ladyship’s collapse turned out to be a blessing in disguise. No sooner had the duke and Harriet returned to the town house than a messenger boy ran up the front steps behind them, gripping his knees to catch his breath. “Your grace?” he asked, half-bowing as Griffin looked around in surprise.
Harriet caught his arm. The boy appeared to be half her age, too young to conceal his own dismay at delivering unwelcome news. No doubt he ran fast and was agile enough to dodge the seedy characters who infested the streets at night.
“What is it?” Griffin asked, stepping in front of Harriet with the unthinking gallantry that never failed to move her.
“P’rhaps the lady ought not-”
“Go ahead,” Griffin said in resignation. “I won’t be able to keep it from her, anyway.”
The boy finally straightened, holding his cap to his heart in unspoken sorrow. “There’s a lady been found, beaten up outside the ’ood and Grapes. I’ve been directed to take you there.”
“I know where it is,” Harriet said. “Please let me go with you, your grace.”
She saw the hesitation in his eyes. But then he nodded and called out to the driver, who had been about to turn back toward the carriage house. It was a tense ride to the tavern, Harriet chewing her lip and not daring to break the duke’s silence. When at last they reached the Hood and Grapes, not tarrying in the taproom’s smoky gloom, it was only to meet Sir Daniel on the stairs. He stopped to stare as if he could not believe his eyes.
“How did you know to come here?” he asked in astonishment.
Griffin shook his head. “You sent for-was it-is it Edlyn?”
Sir Daniel blinked. “No. It was a shopkeeper’s assistant who had been sent to deliver a packet of thread. She will recover. But how on earth did you find out when I have only been here a minute or so myself?”
“Your messenger brought us here.” Griffin scrubbed his hand over his face with a relief that Harriet more than shared.
“I sent no messenger,” Sir Daniel said, his gaze searching the taproom below. His eyes lifted suspiciously to Harriet. “It would have been unconscionable to bring you here until I reviewed the incident myself.”
Harriet sighed. What might be seen as unconscionable to a gentleman of Sir Daniel’s integrity would not disturb a miscreant like Nick Rydell, who thrived on the misfortune of others. But at least it proved he was on the job, even if he only wanted the reward.
“I do hope you find the person who attacked that young girl tonight,” Griffin said heavily.
“So do I, your grace,” Sir Daniel said with a veiled look at Harriet. “It is a regrettable truth of London life that the ladies we cherish should be guarded at all times.”
“I could not agree with you more,” Griffin said, and did not bother at all to veil the meaningful stare he gave Harriet.
Harriet had not realized how deeply she cared for Lady Powlis until the following day. An undisturbed stretch of sleep had done Primrose a world of good. She was subdued, but with still enough wind in her sails to insist she accompany Harriet and Griffin back to the scene of the Mayfair breakfast party they had attended.
Harriet found it hard to maintain hope that Edlyn was playing a hoax. A disappearance going on almost two days was sufficient time to punish one’s family. The girl had to realize that her great-aunt was getting on in years. In fact, Harriet was so worried about the dear harridan’s health that she was torn between staying with her beneath the fig tree where they had sat or accompanying the duke on his investigation of the park.
“Go with him, Harriet,” Lady Powlis said, waving her off with her cane. “I sent you searching after Edlyn that day, as I recall.”
“But, madam, you don’t look at all well.”
“I wasn’t well then,” Lady Powlis snapped, proving that she was stronger than she appeared. “I’d eaten off mutton, and, believe me, there are few things worse.”
“Harriet,” Griffin called, motioning at her from the small ornamental bridge over the pond, “are you walking with me or not?”
“I didn’t walk with you that day at all,” Harriet muttered as she hastened across the lawn to join him. “As a matter of fact, I distinctly remember that you ignored me.”
“I did anything but.” He grasped her hand to guide her across the bridge. “Be careful where you step. The ground is wet here.”
She caught her skirt in one hand, frowning as his gaze lowered pointedly to her ankles. “You did not spend a single moment in my company.”
“That is different from ignoring you,” he said with a wry look.
She sighed in exasperation. “Well, if that is your memory of that day, I doubt you will recall anything to be of help.”
She walked around him, doing her best to envision what she had done after leaving Lady Powlis at the fig tree. Hang it. This was all wrong. She had not crossed the bridge. She had not come this way at all, because the bridge had been crowded with ladies watching the archery contest. Or, rather, watching the duke, she thought sourly.