truth. But if she does not have it… ' I trailed off, taking a sip of coffee. 'That means Brandon got rid of it somehow. I cannot imagine him passing it to any other person, except perhaps Louisa. But she has given no indication that she knew anything about a letter, nor do I think he'd had time to give it to her.'
'Then what is your theory?'
I clicked my cup to its saucer. 'That Brandon hid it somewhere. That he found a place to put it in the Gillises' house where even their servants would not find it. He hid the document before Pomeroy arrived, knowing he might be questioned about Turner's murder. An awkward thing to have on him if Pomeroy simply arrested people right and left and let magistrate sort it out in the morning. He probably meant to return to retrieve the letter or to send Mrs. Harper for it. But Pomeroy whisked him to Bow Street so quickly that he did not have the chance to pass on the message. Mrs. Harper has not visited him, nor has Louisa. And he does not want me to find the damned thing.'
'Hmm.' Grenville tapped his fingertips together. 'How could he be certain the servants would not find it?'
'He must have thought the hiding place a good one.' I studied the shelf beside me, which was filled with oriental ivory. 'If a Gillis servant did find it, would they be able to read it? It was in French, and not all servants can read even English. They might think it a stray bit of paper and destroy it.'
'Or wrap fish in it or polish furniture with it,' Grenville said. 'My footmen use my old newspapers to polish the silver. So they tell me.'
'Perhaps Bartholomew and Matthias can infiltrate the Gillises' servants' hall again and find out. I am not certain how I will explain to Lord Gillis that I want to search his house from top to bottom for a stray piece of paper, but I will try.'
'I can speak to Gillis at my club.'
'Lady Breckenridge has promised she will gain me entry through Lady Gillis.'
His brows climbed. 'I see. Lady Breckenridge has been quite helpful to you of late, I've observed.'
I poured more coffee into my cup from the pot on the tray. I felt Grenville's keen gaze resting upon me, but I chose to ignore it. 'Some things are none of my business,' I said, keeping my voice light. 'Some things are none of yours.'
He looked pleased. 'You will never have a moment's boredom with Donata Breckenridge, Lacey. She is decidedly unconventional.'
'She is intelligent,' I said. 'And does not waste time on frivolous conversation.'
'Exactly.'
He wore a faint, superior smile. I said, 'Her marriage to Breckenridge I know was unhappy. She loathed him. I gather it was an arranged match?'
Grenville nodded, always ready to delve into the affairs of his fellow man, or woman. 'It was a good match on the basis of pedigree and financial benefit. Her father, Earl Pembroke, was great friends with Breckenridge's uncle. Both men had large and prosperous estates, and Pembroke wanted his daughter and grandchildren provided for. Breckenridge's uncle was a man of sterling worth, but Breckenridge grew up spoiled, hard-nosed, and selfish. As you noticed.' Grenville turned his glass in his hands. 'Interesting thing. I met Lady Breckenridge at her come- out, when she was Lady Donata. She was quiet and well mannered, never spoke a word out of place. A regal young lady. Not until after she married Breckenridge did she blossom into what she is now.'
I contrasted Grenville's picture of the quiet ingenue to the frank, acerbic lady with the barbed sense of humor I'd come to know.
I said, 'Breckenridge must have infuriated her until she grew fed up and dropped her polite veneer in self- defense.'
Grenville shot me a look. 'Breckenridge was horrible, Lacey. You knew him only a couple of days. Very few people could stick him. He paraded his mistresses about in front of his wife; I hear he even took a few home and forced her to share her dining room with them, took them to his bedchamber under her nose. I admire Lady Breckenridge for not running mad or shooting him outright. She must have the strength of ten to live through what he did to her.'
'She does have strength,' I said in a soft voice. 'She can stand up to me and tell me to go to the devil.'
He chuckled. 'So very few men would prize that in a lady.'
And yet, I did. My wife Carlotta had been a fragile, tender creature. I'd needed a wife who could bash crockery over my head and tell me not to run roughshod over them. Carlotta had said nothing and let me become more and more heavy-handed. I doubt I'd ever be able to be heavy-handed with Donata Breckenridge.
'Lady Breckenridge is a lovely woman,' I said.
Grenville grinned. 'That does not hurt, either.' He lifted his glass. 'To comely ladies with sharp tongues. Bless them.'
I lifted my cup and joined him in a toast.
The next afternoon, I returned to the court near Portman Square to attempt another visit to Imogene Harper. This time, I found her at home.
She received me in a tidy parlor whose windows overlooked the foggy lane. This was a quiet court, rather like the one I lived in on the other side of the city, though a bit more prosperous. The house was respectable, the sort a well-to-do widow might hire.
Mrs. Harper looked the part of the respectable, well-to-do widow. Again, I was struck by what a comfortable-seeming woman she was-not a beauty, but not displeasing, either. The disheveled look she'd had when I'd encountered her in Turner's rooms was gone. Her yellow-brown hair had been combed back into a simple knot, and she wore brown again, a high-waisted gown trimmed with black.
Once the requisite politeness had finished and a maid had settled us with the requisite tea, I told her, 'I have met Colonel Naveau.'
Mrs. Harper's eyes widened, and she set down the teacup she'd just lifted. 'Oh.'
'He has commissioned me to find a letter stolen from him in Paris by Mr. Turner. I believe that same letter was sold to Colonel Brandon for five hundred guineas in the anteroom of Lord Gillis's Berkeley Square townhouse.'
Mrs. Harper bowed her head, but a flush spread across her cheeks.
'Am I correct?' I asked.
'You believe so,' she answered, her voice hard. 'What does it matter what I think?'
'It matters a great deal, Mrs. Harper. I need to find that document. I want to find it. Will you tell me where it is?'
Chapter Fifteen
Mrs. Harper lifted her head. 'And if I tell you I have no idea where the bloody letter is, will you believe me?'
'I will, actually.'
She looked surprised then skeptical. 'You will? Why?'
'Because I know Colonel Brandon better than you do.'
She stared at me a moment then sagged back into her chair. 'Oh, what does it matter? No, Captain, I do not have the letter. I begged and begged Aloysius to give it to me, but he would not.'
'But you do have the draft for the five hundred guineas that Brandon gave Mr. Turner, do you not?'
'Yes, I found it in the pocket of Mr. Turner's coat. I took it and put it into my reticule.'
'You searched his dead body for it. I admire your coolness.'
'I was anything but cool! Believe me, Captain, when I screamed, I did so from the heart. Mr. Turner was still warm when I searched his pockets. It was ghastly. But I knew I had to take the money away before someone else found it. When I saw that I'd gotten his blood on my glove, it sent me into a horrified panic. I do not know much of what happened after that.'
'Grenville sat you down and gave you brandy. He also took your glove away.'
