Their relationship thus far had been stormy, any progress made usually followed by a painful regression.
'Greet Marianne for me,' I said. 'And send me word when you've obtained an appointment with Mr. Turner's father. It might be decent of us to attend the funeral.'
'I will,' Grenville agreed, and we parted.
Lord Gillis's quiet and efficient footmen let me out of the house. Berkeley Square was wet with rain, but the bitter chill of winter had gone, and my breath did not hang in the air.
I had expected to have to hike a long way to find a hackney, but another carriage already waited at the door, and a footman I recognized as Brandon's hopped down and approached me.
'Good evening, Captain,' he said. 'Mrs. Brandon said we was to have the town coach to fetch you to her. Will you get in, sir?'
Chapter Two
The Brandon house in Brook Street was a pale brick edifice inside which I'd endured many an evening with the hostile Colonel Brandon. When we'd returned from the war, Louisa had seemed to think we could resume our easy companionship in suppers and chatter, but the days of laughing in the Brandon tent late into the night had gone.
I missed that life. I missed it sharply. Even with the ever-present danger of battle and death lurking over us, my existence in the king's army had been good. I had been a whole man, fit and vigorous, enjoying my friends and comrades.
The footman assisted me from the coach and opened the door to the house. He took my greatcoat and hat and gloves but left me my walking stick.
'She's upstairs, sir,' he told me.
I knew the way. I climbed the stairs, noting that the house was dark, cold, and silent. If the servants were up and awake, they were staying out of sight.
I found two maids in the room with Louisa, both looking upset and alarmed. Lady Aline Carrington, a stout, white-haired woman with a booming voice, was seated on a divan with Louisa.
Louisa reclined next to her, a blanket over her knees. Her maids had loosened her hair, and it hung down one shoulder in a golden swath. Despite that, she looked tired and old, well beyond her forty-three years.
When she saw me, she exhaled in relief. 'Gabriel.'
Lady Aline creaked to her feet. 'Lacey, my boy. Dreadful business, this. You will find out what really happened, won't you?'
'That is my intention,' I said.
'Louisa was a bit worried you wouldn't trouble yourself,' Lady Aline said, always frank.
Louisa flushed. 'Aline, will you please allow me to speak to Gabriel alone?'
'Of course. Come along,' she told the maids. 'Your mistress will not crumble to dust without you. At least not for ten minutes.'
The maids, who had been straightening Louisa's blanket and holding a cup of tea for her, made every show of reluctance as they left the room. Lady Aline drove them out before her, then she shut the door.
'Louisa,' I began, preparing to launch into my speech of comfort.
Louisa pushed aside the blanket and left the divan to fling her arms around my neck.
This was so unusual for Louisa, that I stood still, nonplussed, before I closed my arms around her and pulled her close.
Once, three years ago, Louisa had come to me for comfort. On that rainy, hot night in Spain, her husband had told her of his plan to end their marriage. She'd come, weeping, to my tent in the middle of the night, and I'd held her as I held her now, stroking her golden hair and giving her words of comfort.
'I will do everything I can, Louisa. I will help him. Never fear that.'
She laid her head on my shoulder. It was unlike her to crumble, but tonight she had endured much. I wondered whether she had known about Mrs. Harper before this, and I silently cursed Brandon for raining everything upon her at once.
I held her for a time. The coal fire flickered quietly on the hearth, and rain pattered against the dark windows.
At last, Louisa lifted her head and wiped her eyes with her fingertips. 'Forgive me, Gabriel. But I feel as if I cannot breathe.'
I smoothed her hair. 'Louisa, I know magistrates; I even know a man whom magistrates fear. Your husband will be released and brought home to you. I swear this.'
Her gray eyes, luminous with tears, contained resignation and a strange finality. I realized with a jolt that she believed Brandon guilty.
'Louisa,' I began, and then I felt a draft on my cheek.
The door had opened, and Lady Breckenridge stood on the threshold.
The widowed Viscountess Breckenridge was thirty years old. She was slender but not overly thin and had thick black hair and dark blue eyes. She was quite attractive and knew it, and I had let that attraction entrance me quite often of late.
Lady Breckenridge was outspoken and acerbic, but she could show touches of kindness, such as when she had purchased me a new walking stick when my old one had been ruined. She also enjoyed bringing up-and-coming artists and musicians to the attention of society, and she lived well in her status as widow of a wealthy and titled gentleman and only daughter of another wealthy and titled gentleman.
She had claimed once that she wanted friendship from me, but I never quite knew how to take her overtures.
Lady Breckenridge paused for one silent moment on the threshold, taking in Louisa in my arms without changing expression. Then she swept into the room, gesturing for the tray-bearing footman behind her to follow.
'Lady Aline suggested drink stronger than tea, Mrs. Brandon,' she said. 'I sent your servant to find your husband's cache of brandy and whiskey.'
Louisa stepped away from me and moved back to the divan.
Lady Breckenridge instructed the footman to leave the tray on the tea table. She was still in her ball gown, a creation of deep blue velvet. The hem was lined with a stiff gold lace that rose in an inverted V in the front to be topped with a bow somewhere near Lady Breckenridge's knees. Her sleeves were long, but the ensemble left her shoulders bare. She'd draped a silk shawl over her arms, but did not bother to pull it up to warm her skin.
Lady Breckenridge gave me a sharp stare, as though daring me to ask what she was doing there. I was grateful to her for helping Louisa home, but I wondered at her motives.
I was grateful also to Lady Aline for suggesting the brandy. I poured a dollop into Louisa's teacup and pressed it into her hands. 'Drink this.'
Obediently, Louisa lifted the cup to her lips. I sloshed whiskey into one of Brandon's precious cut crystal glasses for myself, and sipped. The liquid burned a nice warmth through my body.
'Brandy, nothing better,' Lady Aline said, coming back into the room. 'Lacey, pour me some of that whiskey, and do not look shocked, I beg you. I am much older than you and can drink what I like.'
I hid a smile as I obliged her and poured the whiskey. 'May I give you tea, Donata?' I asked Lady Breckenridge. 'Or will you be daring and drink whiskey as well?'
Lady Breckenridge hesitated, then made the smallest negative gesture. 'Nothing for me, thank you.'
Louisa gave me an odd look. Lady Aline raised her brows and drank her whiskey.
I realized after a moment that I'd betrayed myself. I called very few women by their Christian names; to do so was to acknowledge an intimate friendship. I addressed Louisa by her Christian name, and Marianne Simmons, who'd filched my candles when she'd lived upstairs from me. I should properly address Lady Breckenridge as my lady.
I decided that trying to correct myself would condemn me further, so I said nothing.
Lady Aline tossed her whiskey back as well as any buck at White's and told Lady Breckenridge to go
