entertainment.'
'Do you ride?' I heard myself speak the words, but my attention was on the glisten of moisture on her mouth and the way her lips pursed as they closed around the cigarillo.
'Of course,' she answered, as though there should have been no question. 'I imagine you have gone off the exercise after living in the saddle for the King's army.'
'Not a bit. The one enjoyment I had in Berkshire this spring was riding again whenever I wished.'
Her brows lifted. 'The groom up and being murdered must have been inconvenient then.'
'The one thing I did right in the eyes of Rutledge the headmaster was to ride every day. He approved of cavalrymen.'
'And yet, in London you remain stubbornly on foot.'
'Lack of steed, my dear lady,' I said. 'I am acquainted with a gentleman who lets me ride his horse when available, but I can only prevail upon his charity so often.'
'Oh.' She inhaled smoke again, regarding me as though she'd never thought of this impediment before. 'Ride with me tomorrow in Hyde Park. I keep two horses, and one is fat and lazy and in need of exercise. I keep the horse for my son, but he has not been here much this Season. He stays with my mother-the country air is much better for him.'
I had met her son Peter not long ago, a small, dark-haired boy of five, who was now Viscount Breckenridge. I'd heard a few vicious people draw attention to the fact that six years before, Breckenridge had been in the army on the Peninsula, implying, of course, that the child wasn't Breckenridge's at all. But I could not agree. The lad had Breckenridge's sturdy build, somewhat scowling demeanor, and focus of purpose. Officers did take leave to see family if necessary. I imagined that Donata had not been pleased to see her husband return.
The thought of Breckenridge insisting on his connubial rights with Donata stirred anger in me, although Breckenridge had been dead for a year.
'I hope he dances in hell,' I said.
Lady Breckenridge blinked. 'Who does?'
'Your husband.'
She gave me a look of surprise, not having the benefit of my train of thought. 'I hope so too, but I was speaking of riding in Hyde Park.'
'My apologies, but I must decline.'
'Must you? I see.'
Anger sparked in her eyes. I said quickly, 'I have an appointment tomorrow. More than one, in fact.'
Lady Breckenridge shrugged as though it did not matter. 'So you said. Has it to do with your missing game girls?'
'No.' I came to her and plucked the cigarillo from her gloved hand. She watched me without expression as I set it on the edge of a table. I cupped her shoulders and turned her to face me. 'My wife has returned to London. The first appointment is with her, to speak about divorce.'
Her pupils narrowed to pinpricks, and she drew a quick breath. 'I remember you said you wanted to find her, to end the marriage.'
'If I can. That is why it is complicated.'
Lady Breckenridge opened her lips to respond, then she closed them again. I searched her face, looking for what she truly felt, but Lady Breckenridge was a master at hiding her emotions. I'd come to know her well enough, though, to see the tightening around her eyes, the small tug of the corner of her mouth. She was unhappy, but living with Breckenridge had taught her never, ever to show her hurt.
'I should not call on you again until I know what is what,' I said. 'Because I am Grenville's friend, and because divorce is so sordid, it will get into the newspapers. I do not want you to be dragged into it as well.'
Her brows rose. 'Goodness, it is far too late for that. Gossip about you and me is already all over London, and I will get into the newspapers whether you are seen calling on me or not.'
'That is likely true.' My fingers tightened on her smooth shoulders. 'But I am imagining cartoons portraying me carrying on with one woman while I am busily discarding the other.'
'Carrying on?' she repeated sharply.
'A poor choice of words, but ones the newspapers will likely use. I hope to do this as quietly as possible, and if anyone can make it happen quietly, it is James Denis. But even he cannot guarantee there will be no damage to you.'
'Ah, the intriguing Mr. Denis. He has promised to help?'
'He has begun helping me whether I wish him to or no. That is another reason the appointment will be complicated. I do not know exactly what he will want in return for this favor.'
Lady Breckenridge studied me a moment, her expression guarded. 'I observed earlier tonight that you knew interesting people.'
'And I observed that I'd had an adventurous life, which is true.'
She moved away from me, sliding from my grasp gently but firmly. 'My husband led an adventurous life as well. I soon grew tired of it.'
Her voice remained light, but I sensed the tension in her words. Her husband had given her nothing but misery, and she'd responded by becoming a daring, flirtatious, and acerbic woman with a barbed sense of humor. From what Lady Aline had told me, she'd made the decision not to become the downtrodden wife, and to do as she pleased. Her bold facade, however, did not mean she had not borne hurt.
'I am not Breckenridge,' I said.
'True.' Lady Breckenridge lifted her cigarillo from the table and drew another intake of smoke. 'But who knows who you really are? I am rather naive about gentlemen.'
I went to her again, and this time, I cupped her face in my hands. 'I never will be Breckenridge. I can promise you that. If not for you, I would let the matter with my wife lie, but if I have to prostrate myself before James Denis to get myself free, I will do it. It may be that my marriage is already legally ended because she abandoned me, but I need to know for certain. I want to start on a blank page with you, with no impediments to interfere when the banns are read. I have so little to give you but my heart, and so I want to offer you my honesty.'
Her eyes widened during this speech. She held the cigarillo out from her side, and a wisp of smoke wound around the pair of us. 'You are quite fervent.'
'About this, I am.'
We looked at each other, inches apart. She tried to close her expression again, but I saw fear in her eyes, the fear of pain. Lady Breckenridge was such a strong and intelligent woman that her tiny vulnerability touched the gallantry in me.
I closed the space between us and brushed her lips with mine. When I ended the kiss, her voice grew soft. 'Go, then.'
I smoothed a stray lock of hair from her forehead. I wanted more than anything to remain here where I could watch her and converse with her and then retire discreetly with her to her home. But my thoughts were in too much turmoil, and I did not want to arrive at James Denis's unkempt and unshaven from a night of revelry.
'Good night,' I said. I lifted her hand to my lips and pressed a light kiss to her glove.
She stepped back, the usual glint of humor in her eyes, and resumed the cigarillo. I bowed, turned, and made for the door.
'Do find out what happened to those poor girls,' she said, standing firmly in the middle of the room, watching me go. 'And of course, tell me everything. '
I stepped down from a hackney coach in Russel Street and walked the rest of the way down tiny Grimpen Lane. Along its narrow length I saw a glow of candlelight from my window, a point of warmth in the darkness.
I was surprised to see the light, because I'd told Bartholomew to go out and do as he liked for the evening while I attended the theatre. Bartholomew was not so careless as to leave candles burning. Not only was there danger of fire, but candles were dear.
I ascended the stairs and entered my front room.
A young woman sat on my wing chair next to a small table with a lit candle and a half-drunk glass of ale. She had a fat braid of very black hair draped over her shoulder, and her eyes sparkled as she gave me a wide
