'But could he trust them to do it?'
Grenville shrugged. 'Suppose they made a contract. No, perhaps they would not risk anything written. But if Westin was as fond of honor as his wife believes, perhaps he took their solemn words as binding.'
'Now he is dead,' I said slowly. 'So all bargains are off?'
'Possibly. I can easily discover if he had been in too deep.' He smiled a little. 'It is supposed to be bad form to talk about money, or the lack of it, but the clubs are full of gossip. Everyone knows how much everyone else is into the money lenders for. We are all hypocrites.' He chuckled. 'What will you do?'
'What I did in the affair in Hanover Square. Apply to you for introduction to the upper classes.'
He grinned. 'Always happy to help.'
'Only because you have an insatiable curiosity and thirst for adventure,' I remarked. Life in upper-class London with unlimited funds at his disposal often grated on him, the unfortunate man.
His grin increased. He'd once told me he admired me because I faced what was real, and was not misled by what others perceived to be important. On days when my rooms permeated with chill and I had spent the last of my pennies on bread, I would have traded my reality with the trappings of his artificial world in a trice.
'I am not acquainted with Connaught,' Grenville was saying, 'but I do know the other two. Not the most genial of companions, I must warn you.'
'Nevertheless an introduction would be a great help,' I said. 'I will also ask Mrs. Westin if I can look through her husband's letters and journals. They might shed some light on what really happened that night at Badajoz. John Spencer searched the papers of his father and Colonel Spinnet; it might be worth my while to try to look at those as well. I do not know John Spencer, but perhaps I can convince him we are both on the side of truth.'
'I am not acquainted with him, either,' Grenville said. 'Eggleston I see often enough. He is rude and sulks when he loses at cards, though he pays up like a gentleman. I have heard whispers that he is a sodomite, but if so, he is very discreet. He boasts loudly of affairs with actresses and courtesans, on the other hand.' He drained his cup. 'He and Viscount Breckenridge are the oldest of friends, but it is an odd friendship. They disparage each other behind each other's backs-and face to face, for that matter. I once saw them nearly come to blows right in the middle of the card room at White's. And yet, they have been constant companions for years.'
I looked a question, but Grenville shook his head. 'No, I do not believe they are lovers. Where Eggleston boasts of his female conquests, Breckenridge is dead silent. But I once attended a house party with them, and in one weekend, Breckenridge had quietly fornicated with every woman in the house from the scullery maid to the hostess.'
I grimaced. 'I believe I understand why Mrs. Westin wishes to lay the blame at his door.'
'Yes, he is vulgar.' Grenville set down his empty cup. 'I will cultivate my acquaintance with them both in the interest of justice.' He rose and looked at me seriously. 'Take care with the newspapermen, Lacey. They can destroy your character so quickly. And Mrs. Westin's.'
'Yes,' I answered, thinking longingly of my next meeting with Billings.
He seemed to read my thoughts. 'Ignoring them utterly is best. If you confront them, they only write with more glee.'
I nodded. I supposed he was right, and the famous Grenville had far more experience with prying journalists than I ever would. I still wanted to break Billings in half.
He left me then, summoning Bartholomew from downstairs. The two of them walked off down Grimpen Lane. The street was far too narrow for Grenville's opulent conveyance, so he always left it around the corner in Russel Street. Blond Bartholomew towered over his master, but they chatted amicably as they ambled along.
I never knew quite what to make of Grenville. I had heard tales of him reducing a gentleman to quivering tears simply by raising his brows. And yet he'd come to my barren and run-down rooms and behaved as though I'd received him at Carlton House.
I thought, however, that I'd have far better luck discovering the murderers of Captain Spencer and Colonel Westin than I would unraveling the mystery that was Lucius Grenville.
I decided to begin my investigation with a chat with the man who had dined with Westin on the fatal night in Spain. I shaved and washed and brushed down my clothes, then departed for Brook Street to visit Colonel Brandon.
He received me with ill grace. The servant left us in the downstairs reception room; Brandon was not even allowing me in the more comfortable rooms upstairs.
He looked terrible. He had obviously not slept. The skin beneath his eyes was bruised and puffy, and the corner of his mouth twitched uncontrollably.
I was reminded of Brandon's temper tantrums of old, of an irritability that only Louisa could soothe. I had the feeling he restrained himself from bodily flinging me from the house only because his servants would report his behavior to Louisa.
'I am quite busy, Lacey, what is it?'
I began without preliminary. 'I have come to ask you a question or two about Colonel Westin.'
His lip curled. 'Why ask me? You had his wife in your bed.'
I bristled. 'I told you that you dishonored her with your speculations. You continue to at your peril.'
'Do not insult me by threatening to call me out, Gabriel, even if you have the great Mr. Grenville to second you.'
We faced each other, the tall former commander and the captain he had made and ruined. I had difficulty remembering that once upon a time I had admired this man. I had wanted to emulate him in all things. Now he stared at me with open belligerence, his handsome face mottled.
It struck me on a sudden that if Louisa truly did leave forever, there would be no more buffer between Brandon and me. Nothing to keep our hatred from coming to the fore. We would destroy each other.
I fixed him with a cold stare. 'May we keep to the point? I want to know what happened the night that Colonel Westin took supper with you at Badajoz.'
'Why? He already admitted he killed Spencer. Besides, he was the ranking officer.'
'You were ready enough to accuse Westin of drunkenness,' I said. 'Was he truly?'
'Good lord, it was four years ago. How am I to remember how much a man drank on one certain night that long ago?'
'Yet you were prepared to say he had been so excessively drunk that he joined in the raping and pillaging.'
Brandon flushed. 'Please, Lacey. You do have a bald way of putting things.'
'And you are excellent at evasion. Were you asked to tell the world that? To lead the blame to Westin?'
Brandon's flush deepened. 'You go too far, Lacey. Westin is dead. He killed the man, drunk or no. Let it lie.'
'I made a promise to Mrs. Westin to discover the truth,' I said. 'I intend to keep it.'
'You are a bloody fool. If his widow has any sense, she will go into mourning and quietly withdraw from society. It would be the decent thing to do. You stirring it all up again is in poor taste, I must say.'
'Does she not have a right to clear her husband's name?'
'Leave it be, Lacey. The thing's done. What is your interest, by the by? She certainly did not waste any time transferring her clutches to you, did she?'
I took a step forward.
He went on recklessly. 'She was in your bed, plain as day. If you had the least amount of shame, you would at least not try to deny it. Good God, he has only been dead a week.'
I stood carefully, keeping myself from lunging at him. 'I am not Lydia Westin's lover. She is an unfortunate woman, and I am trying to help her. That is all.'
His hands curled to fists. 'Where is Louisa?'
'I told you, I have no idea.'
'You are so anxious to help the wives of other gentlemen. Perhaps you helped her to run away from me.'
I took another step forward. 'Damn you…'
'No, Gabriel. Damn you. I offered to reconcile, and you were pleased to throw it in my face.'
He spoke the truth. I had rejected his attempts at forgiveness, because I knew it was not absolution he offered, but penance. He would take on the role as the wronged party and would forgive me and forgive me and
