Murder in Grosvenor Square (18 page)

I’d tried since I’d met him to oppose Denis, and yet, I seemed to end up helping him a great deal. He knew how to play me, how to put his finger directly upon my weaknesses.

“I will tell Sir Gideon and Sir Montague Harris what I believe happened at the Nines,” I said at last. “What about the Bull and Hen? Would you like that closed too?”

Denis lifted his brows. “The house where gentlemen go to bed other gentlemen? I have no reason to see it shut down. In fact, if its clientele were arrested, I might feel a pinch. You would be astonished at the names to be found there.”

Gentlemen in his pocket, I imagined. Denis owned MPs and magistrates—I wondered whether knowing they went to the Bull and Hen was part of his net around them.

“I would like to find out if Leland and Gareth ended up there last night,” I said. “I imagine you have spies there, if you know so much about its clientele.”

Denis only watched me. “If I can discover the information without putting those who work for me in jeopardy, you will have it. If there is too much risk of exposure, however, I cannot ask it.”

I knew I had no say in the matter. Denis would not do a damn thing he did not want to. “I suppose I must be content with that.”

Denis made no sign that he was pleased with my capitulation. He straightened his gloves. “Then I will bid you good day. Brewster has the key to this house, which you may use as you need it.”

Without further word, he walked out of the room, lifting his hat from one of the tables as he went. The lackey he’d brought, who’d not said one word since we’d arrived, followed him closely out.

“Well, sir,” Brewster said once we were alone. “Best be getting on, hadn’t we?”

I picked up my own hat where I’d dropped it to a chair. “Mr. Denis never consulted you in this, Brewster. If you have no wish to assist me, I will not compel you.”

Brewster shrugged. “I work for Mr. Denis, don’t I? He gives me a job, I do it. I’d like to finish this one soon, though, if you don’t mind me saying so. I’ve promised the wife a trip to the seaside, when Mr. Denis can spare me.”

*

In spite of Brewster wanting to run up and down London to lay his hands on the villains at once, I preferred to return home. It was after noon, I needed to reassure my friends and family that I was well, and I wanted to confer with Grenville.

The plain coach, which Brewster explained did belong to Mr. Denis, used when he wanted no one to realize he was out and about, took us to Mayfair.

My wife’s house was one in which Brewster would concede to wait in the kitchens, and I went up to our private parlor alone. Donata was out of bed and dressed, reclining in her favorite place on the divan, and Grenville was with her, seated in an elegant chair.

When I entered, Donata looked up with relief in her eyes, which she quickly masked. Grenville’s reaction so closely matched hers that for a moment, I wanted to laugh.

“We feared the rough men of the Nines had spirited you away, old fellow,” Grenville said, rising to greet me. “A message from one of Denis’s chaps that you were being looked after did not relieve me much.”

Donata sank back, the black and white day gown she wore flowing to the cushions beside her, which she patted. “Do sit down, Gabriel. Barnstable, bring the captain a large quantity of coffee and those cakes he likes so well. I doubt he’s given a thought to a meal.” When Barnstable departed, Donata spread her arm across the back of the divan. “Gabriel, tell us
everything
.”

These were the two people in my life I’d learned to keep nothing from. I sat next to Donata, the fold of her skirt now over my leg. I talked, telling them what had happened since I’d followed Bertha from the card room of the Nines.

Donata’s gaze rested upon me when I finished. “And will you?” she asked. “Shut down the Nines for Mr. Denis?”

I shrugged. “It is a bad place.”

“You have no guarantee he will not make it a worse one,” Donata said. “Whatever shall you do, Gabriel?” She was not admonishing me; she was stating a fact.

“My choice is not much of a choice,” I admitted. “Do I ignore the place, and have it continue cheating its customers and beating them when they complain? Or let Denis run it?”

Grenville tapped his fingertips together. “You could report to the magistrates that Denis means to have it. Montague Harris might be able to stop the sale.”

“Possibly. Possibly not. He might also believe the house is better off under Denis’s control.”

“Or,” Grenville said delicately. “You could report the matter to Mr. Spendlove.”

Spendlove yearned to stop Denis and his empire by any means necessary. Of course, he’d be sure to drag me into the matter right alongside Denis. “I dislike being caught between the two men,” I said, my temper stirring. “Why they cannot leave me in peace is unfathomable.”

“You are a loose cannon, my friend,” Grenville said. “When you charge about, there is no telling exactly what will happen.”

I did not know whether to be indignant or to laugh. “Denis has called me that before. Is that your opinion as well?”

Grenville raised his hands in surrender. “A mere observation to explain their interest in you. I must admit that there is no telling what will happen around you. It is why I befriended you in the first place.”

Grenville had made no bones about telling me in the early days of our friendship that he had sought my acquaintance because he found me refreshingly interesting. I’d also foiled a burglary at his house, which had won me his respect and gratitude.

“This discussion is bringing me no closer to a decision,” I said. “But I think it is clear. I will report what I’ve learned to Sir Gideon and Sir Montague, and no doubt they will make things happen. Sir Gideon will want to know exactly what happened to his son.”

“Will you tell him all of it?” Grenville asked.

Donata knew what we meant. I had told her, as we’d lain twined together, how I’d found Leland and Travers.

“I swore to Leland I would keep his secret,” I said with a sigh.

“I would not be surprised if Sir Gideon already suspected the lay of the land with his son,” Donata said. “But I do not believe knowing exactly how you found them would be of any comfort to him.”

“Did you know?” I asked her. “When I was suggesting him as a potential husband for Gabriella, did you know what an idiot I was?”

Donata leaned to fetch a cigarillo from a gilded box on the table beside her. “I had suspected Gareth and Leland of having a passion for each other, as have most of the
ton
. This sometimes happens with young men thrown very close together in their lives. They might grow out of it as they make their way in the world, but even if they do not, their proclivities should not prevent them making a good marriage. An astonishing number of married gentlemen take lovers, male or female, sometimes both. My objections to Leland were purely based on his character, and I have not changed my mind.” Donata closed the cigarillo box, rolled the dark stick between her fingers, and gave me a fond look. “I forget that you are unfashionable enough to consider possible infidelity as a bar to marriage.”

“And we like you for it,” Grenville said quickly. “But it makes you rather singular in our set.”

The discussion discomfited me. “I am sorry to hear I am so unique. Marriage vows should mean something.” Especially those involving my daughter, I added silently.

“Again, we like you for it,” Grenville said. “My own father forgot his vows ten minutes after the ceremony. He could not keep his trousers buttoned for half a day, as I heard it. When I meet a lady I fancy, I have to quiz her about her antecedents before I consider any sort of liaison, for fear my father sired her.”

Donata chuckled appreciatively. Her own husband had been unfaithful to the point of parading his mistresses through the house under Donata’s nose.

“I believe I will keep my silence about Leland to his father,” I said. “For now. What about you, Grenville? Were you able to pry any more information from those at the Nines? And what about this man, Mackay? Has anyone heard of him?”

Chapter Eighteen

“Not a thing about Mackay,” Grenville said, shaking his head. He lifted a delicate teacup that was nearly lost in his hand, but he held it with the carefulness of a gentleman used to handing fragile things. “As for Percy Saunders, when Leland started making a fuss in the Nines, Saunders took himself to the far corner of the room, not wanting anyone to remember they’d come in together.”

“Bloody coward,” I muttered.

“Quite,” Donata said crisply. “Percy Saunders never had much to recommend him. Too fond of pushing the blame for things onto others.”

Barnstable broke our discussion at that moment by bringing in steaming coffee for me and a large platter nearly covered with teacakes. I thanked him politely, though I wasn’t hungry, and the coffee Brewster’s wife had given me had been excellent. Barnstable liked to coddle me, and I’d learned that he grew hurt if I objected. He presented me with the tray and then bowed and took his leave.

“We are not much further forward,” I said, lifting a currant-laden cake onto a plate with silver tongs. I knew the staff would not be happy if I didn’t eat some of the spread. “We must account for what happened after Leland and Travers left the Nines. So far, Leland remembers nothing, and there is no way to know whether he will regain the memories or not.”

“Denis has a man inside the Bull and Hen, you say?” Grenville also took a cake, handling the tongs with an air of long practice. “What tales that fellow must tell.”

I had no doubt that Denis used the information to tighten his hold upon many a man of power. “Denis indicated that he will not have his contact asking questions if he feels it will be too great a risk to him. We might have to discover what happened ourselves, after all.”

“As we discussed, it is a bad idea if either of us go inside,” Grenville began. “However, I—”

“I could go,” Donata said.

Grenville broke off, his mouth still open. Both of us stared at her as she took a pull of her cigarillo, its end crackling quietly as it glowed orange-red.

“I could dress as a young man.” Smoke weaved around Donata as she spoke. “Go in, play cards, drop Leland’s name, listen to the response.”

“No!” Grenville and I said at the same time.

Grenville recovered first. “Dear lady, it would be far too dangerous, no matter how good your disguise. They will not know you and consider you fresh blood. You would never be left in peace.”

Grenville articulated better than I did when I was in a fury, but now I let my words fly. “It is a damn fool idea, Donata. They would take you aside and have at you, without bothering to discover whether you were male first. In the dark, drunk, they might not realize their mistake until too late. I forbid it.”

Anger flared in Donata’s eyes at the word
forbid
. “If you would let me continue, gentlemen, I said it in jest.” She flicked ashes into a porcelain bowl with an irritated jerk of her fingers. “I did such a thing not long after I was first married—a dear friend and I dressed up as men and went to a hell. It was one of the most entertaining nights of my life. Not one gentleman there suspected us—they were far too engrossed in play and the sort of women who did float about there. We emerged unscathed.”

The story did nothing to calm me, and I was not convinced Donata had spoken in jest at first. She’d looked a bit too eager. My wife had a lively curiosity and a bold courage that made my blood run cold.

“Very courageous of you,” Grenville said, his neutral voice what we needed to smooth over the moment. “I have a better idea for infiltration—I will search among my acquaintances I know to be of Leland’s mind, and try to find one who knows a bit about the place. One might have been there that night, or knows someone who was.”

“Questioning someone who works at the Bull and Hen would be preferable,” I said. “A barman, the man who admits the clientele … someone of that nature.”

“Same problem, my dear Lacey,” Grenville broke in. “Who do we send to question them? Or do we waylay the employees on their way home?”

“Which I will quickly point out would be as dangerous for you,” Donata said, anger sharp in her eyes. “I am happy Mr. Denis sends someone about after you. Make use of Mr. Brewster and send him.”

“Denis might not let him,” I said. “If he doesn’t want anyone poking around there. I was thinking of another resource we have at our disposal. Actors.”

Grenville froze in the act of lifting a teacake to his mouth, his cheeks staining red. “If you mean Marianne, I will not let you. Now
I
forbid it.”

“Of course not,” I said impatiently. “But through the theatre, she is acquainted with many people in all walks of life. Perhaps one who knows their way around molly houses will agree to help us. If we have to pay them, so be it.”

Grenville looked slightly appeased, but still angry. “If she will help. It is not a bad idea, I will grant.”

The discussion had left the three of us uncomfortable, Donata going coldly silent as she continued to smoke. Grenville, the master of social niceties rose and bid us a graceful farewell, saying he had many appointments to take up the rest of his day.

I walked with him to the door of the sitting room, but he insisted on going downstairs himself. I closed the door behind him and turned to face my wife’s silence.

Donata was furious with me. I had never before this day asserted my husbandly authority over her, but she had goaded me into fear, which I had let emerge as anger.

When I had done so with my first wife, Carlotta, she’d cringed and fled me. Donata only watched me with flint-hard eyes.

“I had thought to call upon the Derwents,” she said in her cool voice. “To see if they need anything and offer what comfort I can. Shall you accompany me?”

“Donata,” I began.

She stabbed out the cigarillo in the porcelain bowl. “Please, do not try to be appeasing, Gabriel. It does not suit you. Let us forget, and continue.”

Her stiff manner told me she would not forget for a very long time. “I can apologize for my abruptness, and my rudeness,” I said, “but not my choice. It was a foolish thing to suggest. There is a difference between being brave and being bloody reckless.”