matter what she had to do to get there. I know you have done more than a few damn fool things in your past, and you succeeded only by dint of your refusal to see reason. Young girl or no, she is a Lacey.'
I sat still, torn between pride and irritation. 'You do have a point,' I said tightly. 'I will check the coaching inns in and around London to see if she boarded a mail coach.' Another thought struck me. 'Auberge told me that they'd brought Gabriella to London with them because an unsuitable young man was pursuing her. We might be making a mare's nest of this, when all she's done is elope.'
'As you did,' Brandon said.
'As I did. And as Carlotta did with Auberge.'
'We'll find her, Lacey,' Brandon said. He sat back in his chair, sipping his chocolate as though it were finest brandy. 'I know a commander whose soldiers are in sad need of something to do. Drilling is making them soft. I'll have him put them on to hunting down your daughter.'
I stared at him, touched that he would want to help. 'Thank you,' I said.
He scowled at me. 'You did save my neck from the noose, damn you.'
'If you find my daughter, sir, we will be more than even.'
'Thank God,' Brandon said, and fervently drank his chocolate.
'Where to now?' Lady Breckenridge asked when we were in her carriage again.
'You do not have to do this,' I told her. 'Have your coachman set you down at home, although I would be grateful for a ride back to Grimpen Lane. I must find Pomeroy and check in with Auberge.'
Donata looked at me without expression. 'Of course I must do this. She is your daughter, and I will do everything I can to help you find her.' She leaned out of her window. 'John, take us to Russel Street in Covent Garden.'
I heard her coachman's terse, 'Yes, my lady,' then his chirrup to the horses as we clopped off down Davies Street toward Berkeley Square and south.
We rode through awakening London, neither of us speaking much, then Lady Breckenridge's coachman stopped in Russel Street to let us descend. I expected Lady Breckenridge would want to wait for me in the comfort of her coach, but she bade her footman help her down after me.
Donata had never seen my rooms, and I hoped she had no intention of coming to them now. But she walked with me serenely down the lane, her skirts lifted out of the mud.
Mrs. Beltan's bake shop was open, and business was thriving. I suggested that Lady Breckenridge wait there for me and enjoy Mrs. Beltan's yeasty bread.
'Not a bit of it, Gabriel,' Donata said. 'Let us be scandalous and ascend to your rooms.'
I stopped her. 'I live rather meagerly.'
'I gathered that. Do not be vulgar; I care nothing for your money, or lack of it. Worrying about money is only for the parvenu. We of breeding shrug it from our shoulders.'
'It is a very convenient thing, on the other hand,' I said, trying to keep my voice light.
'Gabriel, I have fountains of money, if you wish to continue on this vulgar footing. Let us please cease speaking of it; it is making me queasy.'
Her sardonic smile was firmly in place, and again, I felt gratitude. She was trying to put me at my ease.
I led her into the stairwell. She looked around in curiosity, taking in the faded murals with the shepherdesses and shepherds of old chasing each other in idyllic bliss. Halfway up, I handed her to a stair above me and kissed her.
She eased away when we finished, looking pleased. 'Donata,' I began.
A door above us opened and Grenville's weary tones floated down to us. 'Lacey, is that you?' He stepped out to the dark landing and looked down. 'Oh, I do beg your pardon. I am a gooseberry, am I?'
To hear the most fashionable man in England describe himself as a gooseberry made me laugh, the first amusement I'd felt since Gabriella had gone missing.
'I stayed the night,' he said, ushering us into the sitting room. 'I hope you do not mind. Matthias and Bartholomew fixed me up well.'
The two young footmen were sitting on either side of my table, going at a repast that looked like all my breakfasts for the past week combined. The tray that Grenville must have eaten from, the plate scraped clean of food, reposed next to the wing chair.
Matthias and Bartholomew sprang to their feet when they saw Lady Breckenridge, Bartholomew hastily chewing a buttered slab of bread.
'Steady, lads. Finish your meal,' I said. 'Any news?'
Grenville sent me a grim look. 'I hoped you would bring some. No, we searched until we could not keep our eyes open, then I returned here for a few hours' sleep. Pomeroy's lads are still at it, as is my coachman, and Matthias and Bartholomew have been in and out. I succumbed to sleep; I am sorry.'
'I did as well, but we may start fresh. Have you heard from Auberge this morning?'
'Yes. He came as I was getting out of bed. No, she did not return.'
I took the news unhappily, but I'd somehow known that would be the outcome. I told Grenville of Brandon's idea that Gabriella had tried to journey back to France, and Grenville agreed that it was a possibility.
And so the second day of the search for Gabriella began. Jackson returned with a fresh set of patrollers, five of them this time. Lady Breckenridge's servants joined in, two footmen and a coachman, and before long, servants from the households that Lady Breckenridge and Lady Aline had notified turned up, ready to look. Nancy and Felicity came as well, with a couple of girls in tow.
At the last came Colonel Brandon. He turned an uncomfortable shade of red as Grenville, neat and fresh and shaved despite making do with my bed, stared at him in surprise. Brandon had brought four others with him, lieutenants of the regiment he'd said needed something to do. We could not all crowd into my rooms, and so we spread out among Grimpen Lane while Grenville and I gave orders. A few urchins who generally hung about looking for handouts or odd jobs also said they'd join, for appropriate pay, of course.
I outlined the task: Comb London and find Gabriella or find out where she'd gone. I sent a contingent to check the coaching inns, the urchins to check the bawdy houses, for which some of them already did jobs. A few of the patrollers were to make their way up and down the river, asking the watermen if they'd found her in the night.
I sent Brandon's soldiers farther afield, to check the roads that led from London, especially those toward France. They were to ask at every inn and every posting point if anyone had seen a young girl, either alone or with anyone else, pass that way. Colonel Brandon joined them, riding out on their cavalry-trained horses.
They dispersed, and Grenville walked with me back upstairs. 'What shall I do, Lacey? You did not give me an assignment.'
We entered the sitting room, where Lady Breckenridge had been watching out the window. She joined us when we came in. 'I need the two of you for inside information on Mayfair,' I said. 'I am not completely convinced that searching alone will be the answer, either for Gabriella or for Black Bess.'
Grenville cocked a brow. 'Inside information?'
'Yes.' I described seeing the coach stopped last night in Covent Garden, while the gentleman fetched himself a girl. 'I met him with you once, I believe. Mr. Stacy?'
'Jeremiah Stacy?' Grenville looked taken aback, then thoughtful. 'I cannot see him doing such a thing; he is a shy man. If you had said his friend Brian McAdams, I could believe it. McAdams enjoys erotic novels and talking rather crudely about the act.' He caught Lady Breckenridge's eye and blushed. 'I do beg your pardon.'
Donata waved away his apology. 'Do not be reticent on my account. My husband knew every crudity invented and openly boasted of doing each one, in my hearing. I think I can no longer be disgusted.'
Grenville looked embarrassed, and familiar anger for the dead Lord Breckenridge simmered.
'You could not have mistaken McAdams for Stacy, could you?' Grenville asked me. 'If it were dark. Perhaps Stacy lent him the coach?'
'No, it was Stacy. I remember him distinctly. He has a very long nose and a tall, lanky build, correct?'
'Yes,' Grenville said. 'McAdams is beefy. I never thought Stacy would slum. Not the type, I should think.'
'I mean to ask him. I'll send around my card and pay a call.' Because Grenville had introduced me to Mr. Stacy, I could presume to call on the man or at least arrange to meet him somewhere.
'He won't be at home this morning. He'll be at Tatt's. That's his passion, horseflesh. At least, I would have
