At this moment, Lady Breckenridge was peering avidly through a lorgnette at Grenville's box, the feathers in her headdress falling loosely down either side of her face. "Is that your Marianne Simmons?" she asked me.
I had told Lady Breckenridge of Grenville's heretofore secret liaison with Marianne, and to her credit, Lady Breckenridge had kept it quiet.
"That is certainly Marianne," I said.
"You know her?" Lady Aline asked me with fervent interest.
"She used to live in the rooms above mine. Grenville met her while she was trying to help me find the young ladies who'd been kidnapped in the Hanover Square affair."
Marianne had helped only for the promise of a reward, and Grenville, astounded by her, had handed her twenty guineas without thought.
Lady Aline tapped my arm with her closed fan. "You wretched boy. You never told me the most delicious gossip in all of London. I had to learn it from my servants. I shall never forgive you for this."
I knew from her teasing tone that she had already forgiven me. "It was Grenville's business, not mine."
"And you are a true and loyal friend to keep it so close to your chest. That is what I admire about you, Lacey." Lady Aline flapped her fan, never minding that she'd completely turned around her opinion in a matter of seconds. "She is a stunning creature, is she not?"
I admitted to myself that Marianne had cleaned up nicely. I knew, too, that she was fond of Grenville, and he of her, and I hoped they could tear down the walls of mistrust between them and nurture that fondness.
"I prefer the present company," I said.
I was slapped with the fan again. "You silver-tongued rogue. And people wonder why I invite you everywhere."
I smiled politely, but my heart was not in the banter tonight. I should have been happy sitting between a lady I considered a good friend and one for whom I bore increasing affection, but I was still too dazed from my encounters with Carlotta and Gabriella and preoccupied with the meeting tomorrow to enjoy myself.
I had contemplated courting Lady Breckenridge when I was free of my marriage, and in fact, had already gained her permission to do so. This summer, I would go with her to her father's estate to meet her family, and I looked forward to the visit. I was at last discovering the peace of being in love without drama.
Yet tonight, I could not be comfortable, and I knew that Lady Breckenridge sensed my distance. She behaved as usual, making acid comments about people she observed and blatantly watching Grenville's box through her lorgnette. She talked of a violinist she'd recently decided to sponsor--one of a string of unknown artists, poets, and musicians she prided herself on introducing to London society. This one was young, French, and difficult, but his playing had already wormed its way into the hearts of the right people.
I listened and made the correct responses, but Lady Breckenridge knew she did not hold my interest. She watched me from the corners of her eyes but asked no questions.
Lady Aline, on the other hand, leaned toward me, all eagerness. "I heard from Louisa that Bow Street has asked you to look into another matter for them. Do tell us about it."
Lady Breckenridge lowered her lorgnette and tilted her head to listen, letting black curls spill over her shoulders to mingle with the feathers. I glanced behind me, but the three ladies in the chairs in the back of the box had their heads together, nattering madly over something else.
"The matter does not seem important to the magistrates," I said. "Pomeroy thought to have me poke around. It is a rather sordid topic for ladies."
"But we like sordid things, Lacey," Lady Aline said. "It makes us feel morally superior."
Lady Breckenridge slanted me a smile, enjoying Lady Aline's joke. "A corpse in a ballroom is also sordid," she said. "And yet we were quite interested in that."
I protested out of politeness, because a gentleman should, but I knew that these ladies were not wilting misses and more resilient than any generals' wives I'd known. "It involves street girls," I said. "A few have gone missing."
Neither lady blushed nor grew horrified that I mentioned such a subject.
"You are correct," Lady Breckenridge said. "That is sordid, but not in the way you meant. Why should these ladies go missing?"
"Perhaps they've simply run off to seek their fortunes," Lady Aline said.
"The men with whom they lived reported their absence with concern."
"Poor things," Lady Aline said. "Their lovers often beat them, I do hear. Perhaps they ran away from them."
"Or found better accommodation," Lady Breckenridge, ever practical, said.
"Either may be the case. I will meet with one of the men tomorrow and ascertain what sort of person he is. That will tell me much about why the girl is gone."
"Louisa said you asked for her help," Lady Aline said. "But she did not specify of what sort."
Lady Breckenridge brushed at her skirt as though she'd found a stray speck of dust. "I cannot imagine what Mrs. Brandon knows about street girls."
"Oh, she takes them in, my dear," Lady Aline said. "They do not stay, but she's rescued a few urchins in her time, given them employment, and found places for the best of them. A few simply run off with the spoons, of course, but Louisa is not deterred. She has a good heart. Is it one of her strays you are after, Lacey?"
"A young woman I know who was formerly a street girl, yes. Black Nancy is now a most-respectable maid in Islington."
Lady Aline nodded as though it all made sense. Lady Breckenridge's bosom rose with a sharp breath, but the only expression she made was to raise her brows the slightest bit. "You know quite interesting people, Lacey."
I kept my tone light. "I have had an adventurous life."
She did not answer but kept her gaze trained on me. Her good opinion mattered to me, and I did not want to sense it drifting away.
"I wish to ask this young woman if she knew any of the missing girls," I went on.
Lady Aline nodded. "Go to one of them. That is good logic."
Lady Breckenridge said nothing. She raised her lorgnette again and scanned the crowd, slightly turning her body away from me.
Lady Aline pumped me for more information about the missing girls until she was satisfied she'd heard everything, then she moved on to other gossip. Lady Breckenridge made the occasional desultory comment but stayed rather silent, for her.
Near to midnight, the theatre crowd began drifting away. The ladies with Lady Aline had departed early, as it was Wednesday, and Almack's Assembly Rooms in King Street, St. James's, closed their doors at eleven, no exceptions.
I prepared to take my leave and return to Grenville's box, but Lady Aline stopped me. "I am off home to host a card party for about a dozen friends. You will of course escort us, dear boy. You cannot let a helpless widow and spinster travel across London alone in the middle of the night."
I wanted to laugh. Lady Aline had her own carriage and retinue of loyal servants, and any man fool enough to rob her would find himself at the business end of her thick walking stick. Likewise Lady Breckenridge was well looked after; her footmen were stronger and more agile than I.
But Lady Aline wanted me, for what reason I did not know, and so I answered, "I will happily escort you to Mayfair, but I will not stay for cards. I have not the head for them tonight, and I have an early appointment tomorrow."
"Pity," Lady Aline said, struggling to her feet. I rose quickly to mine and helped her. "You are such a splendid conversationalist, Lacey. You do not say only what everyone wishes to hear."
"You mean I am rude."
"I mean that you are refreshing. That is why Grenville favors you; you are nobody's toady, and the poor man must grow weary of toadies. He undoubtedly favors the unknown actress for the same reason. Difficult to find novelty in your life when you have everything handed to you. John, my boy, run and fetch my carriage."
The youthful footman jumped and ran out to obey his mistress. Two maids entered a moment later with wraps for the ladies, and we made ready to leave.
I could not simply abandon Grenville, so I sent Lady Aline's footman when he returned around to say that Lady Aline had requested my presence. Grenville would understand. When Lady Aline commandeered a person, they stayed commandeered. She would have made a fine press-ganger.
Lady Breckenridge had traveled to the theatre with Lady Aline, so the three of us journeyed to Mayfair in Lady Aline's carriage, the two ladies facing forward, I facing the rear as a gentleman should. The carriage rolled north and west, leaving Drury Lane at Long Acre, then traveling through narrow byways to Leicester Square and beyond to Piccadilly, from which we turned north into the heart of fashionable London.
Lady Aline lived in Mount Street, around the corner from Lady Breckenridge's house in South Audley Street. Lady Aline's home was a typical London townhouse, brick with white pediments over the windows and an arched front door painted dark green with a brass doorknocker in its center.
As soon as we stopped, a footman hurried from the house to set a stool in front of the carriage door and assist us down. Another footman unrolled a rug from stool to door so that his mistress and her guests never had to tread on London's dirty cobblestones.
Relieved of wraps, we went upstairs to Lady Aline's opulent sitting room. She bustled out with her servants, bellowing orders like a sergeant-major as she chivied them in preparations for her card party. The servants hurried after her, leaving Lady Breckenridge alone with me, which, I realized, had been Aline's intention all along.
Lady Breckenridge pulled a gold case from her reticule and extracted from it a thin black cigarillo. She held the cigarillo loosely in her fingers, pointing it ever so slightly at me. I took the cigarillo, lit it with a candle in an elaborate silver candelabra, and handed it back to her.
"Thank you," she said. She drew a long breath of smoke, as though she'd been wanting to do nothing but that all evening. "The theatre is tedious," she remarked. "I long for country walks--or rather walks in the country garden. I am not one to tramp mannishly across wet meadows and scramble through hedgerows and think it entertainment."
"Do you ride?" I heard myself speak the words, but my attention was on the glisten of moisture on her mouth and the way her lips pursed as they closed around the cigarillo.
"Of course," she answered, as though there should have been no question. "I imagine you have gone off the exercise after living in the saddle for the King's army."
"Not a bit. The one enjoyment I had in Berkshire this spring was riding again whenever I wished."
Her brows lifted. "The groom up and being murdered must have been inconvenient then."
"The one thing I did right in the eyes of Rutledge the headmaster was to ride every day. He approved of cavalrymen."
"And yet, in London you remain stubbornly on foot."
"Lack of steed, my dear lady," I said. "I am acquainted with a gentleman who lets me ride his horse when available, but I can only prevail upon his charity so often."
"Oh." She inhaled smoke again, regarding me as though she'd never thought of this impediment before. "Ride with me tomorrow in Hyde Park. I keep two horses, and one is fat and lazy and in need of exercise. I keep the horse for my son, but he has not been here much this Season. He stays with my mother--the country air is much better for him."
I had met her son Peter not long ago, a small, dark-haired boy of five, who was now Viscount Breckenridge. I'd heard a few vicious people draw attention to the fact that six years before, Breckenridge had been in the army on the Peninsula, implying, of course, that the child wasn't Breckenridge's at all. But I could not agree. The lad had Breckenridge's sturdy build, somewhat scowling demeanor, and focus of purpose. Officers did take leave to see family if necessary. I imagined that Donata had not been pleased to see her husband return.
The thought of Breckenridge insisting on his connubial rights with Donata stirred anger in me, although Breckenridge had been dead for a year.
"I hope he dances in hell," I said.
Lady Breckenridge blinked. "Who does?"
"Your husband."
She gave me a look of surprise, not having the benefit of my train of thought. "I hope so too, but I was speaking of riding in Hyde Park."
"My apologies, but I must decline."
"Must you? I see."
Anger sparked in her eyes. I said quickly, "I have an appointment tomorrow. More than one, in fact."
Lady Breckenridge shrugged as though it did not matter. "So you said. Has it to do with your missing game girls?"
"No." I came to her and plucked the cigarillo from her gloved hand. She watched me without expression as I set it on the edge of a table. I cupped her shoulders and turned her to face me. "My wife has returned to London. The first appointment is with her, to speak about divorce."
Her pupils narrowed to pinpricks, and she drew a quick breath. "I remember you said you wanted to find her, to end the marriage."
"If I can. That is why it is complicated."
Lady Breckenridge opened her lips to respond, then she closed them again. I searched her face, looking for what she truly felt, but Lady Breckenridge was a master at hiding her emotions. I'd come to know her well enough, though, to see the tightening around her eyes, the small tug of the corner of her mouth. She was unhappy, but living with Breckenridge had taught her never, ever to show her hurt.
"I should not call on you again until I know what is what," I said. "Because I am Grenville's friend, and because divorce is so sordid, it will get into the newspapers. I do not want you to be dragged into it as well."
Her brows rose. "Goodness, it is far too late for that. Gossip about you and me is already all over London, and I will get into the newspapers whether you are seen calling on me or not."
"That is likely true." My fingers tightened on her smooth shoulders. "But I am imagining cartoons portraying me carrying on with one woman while I am busily discarding the other."
"Carrying on?" she repeated sharply.
"A poor choice of words, but ones the newspapers will likely use. I hope to do this as quietly as possible, and if anyone can make it happen quietly, it is James Denis. But even he cannot guarantee there will be no damage to you."
"Ah, the intriguing Mr. Denis. He has promised to help?"
"He has begun helping me whether I wish him to or no. That is another reason the appointment will be complicated. I do not know exactly what he will want in return for this favor."
Lady Breckenridge studied me a moment, her expression guarded. "I observed earlier tonight that you knew interesting people."
"And I observed that I'd had an adventurous life, which is true."
She moved away from me, sliding from my grasp gently but firmly. "My husband led an adventurous life as well. I soon grew tired of it."
Her voice remained light, but I sensed the tension in her words. Her husband had given her nothing but misery, and she'd responded by becoming a daring, flirtatious, and acerbic woman with a barbed sense of humor. From what Lady Aline had told me, she'd made the decision not to become the downtrodden wife, and to do as she pleased. Her bold facade, however, did not mean she had not borne hurt.
"I am not Breckenridge," I said.
"True." Lady Breckenridge lifted her cigarillo from the table and drew another intake of smoke. "But who knows who you really are? I am rather naive about gentlemen."
I went to her again, and this time, I cupped her face in my hands. "I never will be Breckenridge. I can promise you that. If not for you, I would let the matter with my wife lie, but if I have to prostrate myself before James Denis to get myself free, I will do it. It may be that my marriage is already legally ended because she abandoned me, but I need to know for certain. I want to start on a blank page with you, with no impediments to interfere when the banns are read. I have so little to give you but my heart, and so I want to offer you my honesty."
Her eyes widened during this speech. She held the cigarillo out from her side, and a wisp of smoke wound around the pair of us. "You are quite ferve
nt."
"About this, I am."
We looked at each other, inches apart. She tried to close her expression again, but I saw fear in her eyes, the fear of pain. Lady Breckenridge was such a strong and intelligent woman that her tiny vulnerability touched the gallantry in me.
I closed the space between us and brushed her lips with mine. When I ended the kiss, her voice grew soft. "Go, then."
I smoothed a stray lock of hair from her forehead. I wanted more than anything to remain here where I could watch her and converse with her and then retire discreetly with her to her home. But my thoughts were in too much turmoil, and I did not want to arrive at James Denis's unkempt and unshaven from a night of revelry.
"Good night," I said. I lifted her hand to my lips and pressed a light kiss to her glove.
She stepped back, the usual glint of humor in her eyes, and resumed the cigarillo. I bowed, turned, and made for the door.
"Do find out what happened to those poor girls," she said, standing firmly in the middle of the room, watching me go. "And of course, tell me everything."
*** *** ***
I stepped down from a hackney coach in Russel Street and walked the rest of the way down tiny Grimpen Lane. Along its narrow length I saw a glow of candlelight from my window, a point of warmth in the darkness.
I was surprised to see the light, because I'd told Bartholomew to go out and do as he liked for the evening while I attended the theatre. Bartholomew was not so careless as to leave candles burning. Not only was there danger of fire, but candles were dear.
I ascended the stairs and entered my front room.
A young woman sat on my wing chair next to a small table with a lit candle and a half-drunk glass of ale. She had a fat braid of very black hair draped over her shoulder, and her eyes sparkled as she gave me a wide smile.
"Now then, Captain," Black Nancy said. "You look that surprised to see me."
* * * * *
Chapter Five
A Covent Garden Mystery Page 5
