Father and son exchanged a look. 'Well then,' Sir Gideon said hopefully. 'Certainly we would be honored to have you at our supper table, Captain Lacey. Perhaps Monday week?'
I looked at the both of them hovering anxiously upon my answer. It would be impolite to snub them, yet I found their admiring gazes a bit unnerving.
I remained silent a moment too long. Leland looked downcast. 'Perhaps he will not be free, Father.'
Of course I would be free. I had little to fill my social calendar, I could assure them. But Sir Gideon spoke before I could. 'We will write to you, Captain, and fix a date.'
I could only agree, and after more exchanges of pleasantries, we parted.
Grenville and I moved from Watier's to a billiards room in St. James's Square. Once ensconced in a game, Grenville remarked, 'You have just met the most unworldly father and son in all of England. The entire family is like them. All they know of London and life is what they see between their front door and their carriage door. God help them.'
'They seemed kind.'
'They are. Unequivocally so. To their credit, they are also the most honest beings you will ever meet. If they professed interest in you, it was not feigned.'
'Then it would be rude of me to refuse their invitation.'
He smiled. 'Be prepared to be questioned to death. But they mean well. And you should cultivate them. The Derwents are acquaintances of Sir Edward Connaught. I should have thought of them at once.'
That, of course, clinched the matter. When Sir Gideon wrote to me next day requesting my presence at his table on the following Tuesday, I replied that I would come.
The day I was to meet the Derwents, William failed us. I strolled downstairs in Lydia's house at five o'clock to find Allandale just coming in.
William, looking distressed, was busily trying to turn him away. Allandale looked up, caught sight of me, and stared in astonishment.
I stopped on the landing. Allandale gaped at me. William helplessly held the door open. A hot breeze filled the hall.
I came out of my standstill and continued down. By the time I stepped off the last stair, Allandale was spluttering.
'I do not understand. William said Mrs. Westin was unwell. What are you doing here?'
I retrieved my hat and gloves from the table myself, William having become fixed to the door handle. 'Shall we go out together, Allandale?'
Allandale stared past me and up the stairs. 'Where is she?'
I had left Lydia at her dressing table, brushing out her long hair. I had wanted to linger and watch her, but my supper appointment pressed me. I had put my hands on her waist, kissed the nape of her neck, then taken my leave.
'Accompany me, Mr. Allandale,' I said firmly. I certainly did not want him waiting at the bottom of the stairs for her like an outraged governess.
Again, his mask slipped. The habitual pleasant expression left him. 'How dare you.'
I slapped my hat to my head, took Allandale by the elbow, and steered him outside. William gave me an anguished look as we passed. I said to him, 'If Mr. Allandale tries to call again tonight, or even tomorrow, do not admit him.'
William, wide-eyed, nodded. He closed the door behind us.
Allandale shook off my hold before we'd walked five feet. 'Explain yourself, sir. What the devil were you doing upstairs in my mother-in-law's house?'
I set my mouth in a grim line. 'I have nothing to explain. And if you question her about it, I will not overlook it. Do you understand me?'
He stopped. A hurrying gentleman, perspiring in the heat, nearly ran him down. Grumbling, the gentleman pushed past and went on.
'Good God, Lacey, you are a cad of the highest water.'
'It is not your business,' I said.
'Not my business? She is the mother of the woman I shall marry! Shall I let her be ruined by a fortune hunter? I will not stand by and let you deceive her.'
I caught his coat lapels, uncaring of others in the street who stopped to gape. I jerked him close, glaring into his flawless face. 'I would do nothing to hurt her, you thrice-damned idiot. If you speak one word of this to her, I will- '
'Call me out?' He glared back, his shock overcome.
'No, I will drag you to the Thames and throw you in. Let the watermen fish you out. They will if you offer them enough coin.'
He swallowed. 'You are mad enough to do it.'
'I am. If I discover that you have spoken to her of this matter in any way, I advise you to dress in the suit you most wish to ruin.'
I released him. He landed on his feet, looking startled, then he jerked from me and hastily smoothed his coat. 'I find it hard to credit that you are a friend of Mr. Grenville's. He would be shocked at your behavior.'
'In this case,' I said, 'I believe he'd agree with me.'
I turned on my heel, marched away, and left him red and furious in the middle of the street.
Every corner of London had its own characteristic, every street its personality. Rich then poor then rich ran together like water and cream. Mansions could give rise to rookeries in two streets, and inhabitants of each would not know a thing of what went on not a short walk away.
Not far from Grosvenor Square, where I made my way to the house of the Derwents upon the appointed hour, had stood Tyburn Tree, the infamous gallows where executions had taken place until late in the last century. South of the old hanging place, Mayfair had sprouted a swath of mansions, some of the finest in London. The Derwents, Grenville had given me to understand, were among the wealthiest citizens in England.
I wondered that I had not heard of the Derwents before, but Grenville assured me they were also among the humblest. Sir Gideon had sat in the House of Commons for many years before retiring to spend more time with his family. He had been made a baronet because of services to the realm, mostly philanthropic. No one could claim to know a more disinterested giver of money to the poor than Sir Gideon Derwent, and so George III had been persuaded to honor him.
If he had given away a fortune to the London poor, he must have had much to spare, I thought as I descended from the hackney and gazed up at Derwent's enormous mansion.
Light glowed from every window, as though they expected a crowd. I hoped not, as I was not in the mood to be jovial to dozens of people I did not know.
The hackney driver grinned at me as I counted shillings into his hand. 'Someone's got friends in 'igh places,' he said. He chortled as he drove away.
Stately columns flanked a grand double-doored entrance, and a red carpet stretched like a tongue over the small bit of pavement to me. I wondered what exalted guest they were expecting.
I soon learned. A butler met me at the door, bowed formally, and ushered me into the house. A footman, equally stately, though much younger, took my gloves and hat.
The butler led me through a massive hall, equally as large as that in Lady Mary Fortescue's country house, but thankfully, much more tastefully decorated. Gray, white, and gold marbled columns marched along the walls, sheltering niches that bore busts of prominent Greek and Roman scholars. Burgundy hangings framed high windows in the rear, and soft gold panels graced the ceiling.
At the end of this echoing hall stood a tall double doorway, behind it, a gargantuan drawing room, and the Derwents.
They were grouped about a chaise longue as though posed for a portrait. Lady Derwent reposed on the chaise, and Sir Gideon stood behind her, his hand affectionately on her shoulder. Leland stood next to his father, brimming with delight, his gray eyes fixed hungrily upon my regimentals.
In a chair next to Lady Derwent sat a girl perhaps a few years younger than Leland. Ash-blond hair and gray
