It didn’t take him long to locate Jarvis’s party in a supper box near the center of the Colonnade. The fierce, hawk-nosed old Dowager was there, as was Lady Jarvis, her once pretty face vacant and slack. Sebastian recognized the baron’s two stout, middle-aged sisters, one kneading her hands in silent, endless worry, the other as harsh and irascible-looking as her brother. It had all the appearance of a typical family outing, Sebastian thought— until one remembered that the Dowager had once tried to have her daughter-in-law committed to a lunatic asylum, or that Jarvis had several times offered to have the wastrel husband of his sister Agnes quietly killed.
Jarvis himself, however, was absent, as was his daughter, Hero; the presence of two empty chairs suggested they had stepped out for a brief stroll. Glancing at his pocket watch, Sebastian suspected that father and daughter had escaped the family gathering by going to watch the playing of the fountains. Sebastian kept walking.
He came upon them near the Hermitage. They stood half turned away, their attention caught by the spectacle of dancing water so that they remained unaware of Sebastian’s approach. He was struck, as before, by the similarity between father and daughter. Sebastian had sometimes heard Miss Hero Jarvis referred to as a handsome woman, for she had large gray eyes and a fine, Junoesque build. But he doubted anyone had ever called her
It was she who saw Sebastian first, her gaze lighting on him as she turned, laughing at something Jarvis had just said. She froze, the laughter dying on her lips.
Sebastian sketched an easy bow. “Miss Jarvis,” he said, smiling sardonically as Jarvis himself swung about. “If you will excuse us?”
She hesitated, and Sebastian thought she meant to refuse. The last time they’d met, he’d broken into her house, held a gun to her head, and essentially kidnapped her. But all she said was “Very well.”
She swept past him, pausing only to lean in close and say quietly, “If he fails to return safe and unharmed in five minutes, I shall set the guards after you.”
Sebastian watched her walk away, her head held high, her back straight. “Your daughter seems to fear I mean you some harm.”
“My daughter thinks you ought to be locked up.”
Sebastian turned his gaze to the King’s cousin. “It has recently been brought to my attention that His Royal Highness the Prince Regent was visiting Lady Benson in London the day the Marchioness of Anglessey was murdered. What time did he make it back to Brighton? Four? Six? Or later?”
Jarvis’s fleshy face remained impassive. “I beg your pardon? The Prince never left Brighton that day. There must be some mistake.”
Sebastian held the baron’s hard stare. “The mistake was yours.”
It was Jarvis who glanced away, his jaw tightening as he gazed out over the darkened gardens. “Who told you?” he said at last. “Very few people knew.”
“He was seen.”
They turned to walk together, the gravel crunching beneath their feet, the distant strains of the music drifting to them through the trees. After a moment, Jarvis said, “What, precisely, are you suggesting? That the Prince killed Lady Anglessey in London, and then hauled her lifeless body back to Brighton with him? Don’t be absurd.”
“Not exactly. But perhaps someone else brought her to the Pavilion, someone who knew what the Prince had done and was determined not to allow the Regent to get away with murder the same way his brother Cumberland did.”
Jarvis faced him, the gravel spraying out from under his heels. “You are supposed to be finding a way to scotch these ridiculous rumors. Not start new ones yourself.”
Sebastian calmly held his ground. “It’s what everyone will be saying when the Prince’s presence in London that day becomes known. And it will become known, have no doubt of that. These sorts of things always do.”
Wordlessly, Jarvis turned and continued up the walk.
After a moment Sebastian remarked almost conversationally, “Did you know the Stuart dagger is back in its rightful place in His Highness’s collection? But, of course, you knew. You’re the one who put it there, aren’t you?”
Jarvis swiped one hand through the air in a dismissive gesture. “Enough of this. I have decided your assistance in this matter is no longer required. You are to have nothing further to do with it.”
Sebastian smiled. “You should have hired the Bow Street Runners after all. Them, you could have dismissed. Not me.”
They were passing through a long, arched passage open at the sides and illuminated by dozens of brilliantly hued lanterns. Two young women strolling arm in arm glanced their way in passing, and Jarvis significantly dropped his voice. “If you understood—”
Sebastian cut him off. “How vulnerable the Prince’s position is at the moment? Ah, but I rather think I do.” A rocket exploded overhead, showering the darkened gardens with a rain of light as the fireworks exhibition began. “Tell me what you know about the Stuart threat to the dynasty.”
“There are no more Stuarts,” said Jarvis blandly. “They died out with Henry four years ago.”
“But there are still those with a better claim to the English throne than King George and his sons. And you’ll never convince me you don’t know their supporters have become active.”
His hands clasped behind his back, Jarvis turned again to walk toward the Colonnade. After a moment, he said, “How did you come to know of this? Has it something to do with Lady Anglessey’s death?”
“Possibly. It would help if I knew who is involved.”
Sebastian didn’t expect an answer. But to his surprise, Jarvis pursed his lips and blew out a long breath. “We don’t know who’s involved. Oh, we’ve managed to get our hands on a few individuals, but they’ve all been at the
