I had guessed he was light cavalry because of his lean muscles, which spoke of hours in a saddle. French hussars had been known for their not-always-prudent courage. They'd been fond of throwing away their lives in some act of bravery that usually cost the English dearly.
'They fought hard at Talavera,' I said. 'I was there. In the Thirty-Fifth Light Dragoons.'
Naveau grunted. 'The Thirty-Fifth Light did well at Waterloo.' He barely moved his lips when he spoke.
'So I hear.' I lifted my fork and cut a bite of sausage. 'I had retired before then. I'd been injured.'
Denis broke in. 'Captain Lacey's commander was Colonel Aloysius Brandon. The one who now awaits trial for the murder of Henry Turner.'
'I read of Monsieur Turner's death in the London newspapers.' Naveau's tone was clipped.
'You knew I had searched Turner's rooms,' I said. 'And you thought I'd found the letter with which Turner had been blackmailing Colonel Brandon and Mrs. Harper. You followed me home and waylaid me in my own lodgings in an attempt to find it.'
'I did.' He seemed in no way ashamed.
'I have puzzled and puzzled why on earth you would want a letter between Brandon and Mrs. Harper,' I said. 'Was Mrs. Harper your mistress? Your wife, perhaps?'
Naveau's brows drew together. 'I have no wife. And what is this letter you speak of? I was not looking for a letter; I was seeking a document. A very important document. Mr. Denis says you will know where to find it.'
I looked from him to Denis. 'What is this about?'
'Mr. Turner stayed for a time in Paris, as a guest of Colonel Naveau,' Denis said. 'After Mr. Turner had departed for London, Colonel Naveau discovered a document missing from his house. He searched and concluded that Turner had absconded with it. Naveau came to London as soon as he could and learned of Turner's death after he arrived.'
So Henry Turner had stolen a document from Naveau. 'What has this to do with Colonel Brandon?' I asked.
'Because your colonel knows where it is,' Denis said. 'Or at least, where it last was.'
The footman came forward to pour more hot coffee into my cup. 'Why should Colonel Brandon know anything about a French document?' I asked.
Naveau made a noise of exasperation. 'Because Monsieur Turner was blackmailing your colonel for the document. I know this.'
'Turner was blackmailing Brandon over a love letter to or from Imogene Harper.' A letter that would make their affair embarrassingly public. But as I sat there I realized I'd been thinking about this all wrong.
'No, no, Captain,' Naveau said. 'Not a love letter. A letter he and Mrs. Harper wrote while we were in Spain. A letter to me.'
'To you?'
'Yes.' Naveau seemed annoyed at my disbelief.
'What is this document?'
'Nothing of concern to you,' Naveau snapped back. 'It is in French.'
'I read French.'
'Still you would not understand it.'
'And Colonel Brandon would?' I asked.
'Mrs. Harper would.'
'Why Mrs. Harper?'
Naveau looked at Denis. 'You told me he would help without question.'
'No,' Denis replied. 'I said that he would find the document, but Captain Lacey must always ask questions. It is his nature.'
'It is an inconvenient nature.'
I ignored Naveau. 'Why did you promise him that I would find it?' I asked Denis.
Denis laid his knife and three-tined fork carefully across his plate. 'The matter is simple. Colonel Naveau needs this document. He has entered a bargain with me to restore it to him. You are close to your colonel and can persuade him to tell you where it is. If it has not turned up among Turner's things, that means Henry Turner either destroyed it or passed it to someone. Most likely, to Colonel Brandon.'
'Colonel Naveau has paid you,' I said, my eyes narrowing.
'Yes,' Denis said.
'In that case, you should have told him that one of your own men would find the document for him.'
Denis looked at me. Nothing existed behind his cold expression but more coldness. 'I did.'
Damn him. From the first, James Denis had informed me that he wanted me to work for him, and that I would, in the end. I refused, because Denis was a criminal, no matter how well he lived or what help he'd given me. Any deed he'd done for me had been to suit his own purposes and to make me beholden to him. I would pay him back, he'd said, in his own coin.
He knew that I wanted to find the document in order to clear Colonel Brandon. He was holding my feet to the fire.
'I do not work for you,' I said.
'But you need this paper. Colonel Naveau will remain here as my guest, and you will bring it to him.'
My temper stirred. 'I want the paper only to help prove Brandon's innocence.'
Denis lifted his slim shoulders. 'If you wish, but you will bring it to me and not give it to the magistrates.'
His gaze, if anything, had become colder. I remembered what had happened to a young coachman who'd once disobeyed Denis. Denis never discussed the matter, but I knew that one of Denis's lackeys had murdered the young man.
'I searched Turner's rooms thoroughly,' I said. 'I also paid a visit to his father in Surrey and looked over his rooms there. I found nothing. No documents, no letters of any sort. What makes you believe I can find it?'
'Because you have an uncanny knack for turning up things that need to be found. You will do this.'
I promised nothing. Denis watched me steadily, but damned if I'd bow my head and obey.
I pushed away my now cold sausages and rose to my feet. The butler appeared in an instant, understanding that I was going.
'I have no doubt that the man you have following me will report my every action to you,' I said.
Denis's face was expressionless. 'Yes.'
'Then I need make no vows to you that I will find and return the paper. You will know what I do.'
Denis inclined his head. He had no need to answer.
Colonel Naveau looked blustery, but I ignored him. I departed the room without taking leave or saying goodbye, and followed the butler down the stairs again to the street.
Still seething, I walked the length of Curzon Street through Clarges Street to Piccadilly. As I walked, I again went over the extraordinary conversation I'd just had. A document, written by Brandon and Mrs. Harper to Colonel Naveau, in French.
My temper began to cool as worry took over. James Denis had been strangely insistent that I pursue this. Why? So he could make me do a job for him? Or for some other reason?
And why the devil should Brandon care about the document? What was he trying so hard to keep from me? The only thing certain was that there was more to this than any party let on. Denis had not asked me to find the paper to please Colonel Naveau, no matter how much the man had promised to pay. Denis did things for his own reasons, and not all his reasons involved money.
I wiped rain from my face. I had searched Turner's rooms and found nothing. But I might as well do so again. I must have overlooked something.
As I passed through Clarges Street, I wondered whether Grenville was in his house there with Marianne. I deliberately turned my gaze away from the windows, as though to give Grenville his privacy, even from the street.
Grenville was another person I was not happy with. Why had he gone to Mrs. Bennington and berated her so? I might be able to accuse Mrs. Bennington of exaggerating his behavior, overdramatizing it, but then her plain and very sensible maid had said the same thing.
