have no say in the matter, do I? I believe I shall change my mind and stay on with Lady Southwick. There is a modicum of safety in her house, if one is not blinded by her bad taste.'
'And as long as you stay away from the end of Godwin's pistol,' Grenville said, snorting.
'Do you know, I do not believe he fired that shot.' Lady Breckenridge looked thoughtful. 'He seemed absolutely baffled, and there was too much smoke. I think he fired, and someone else fired at the same time, to make it look as though Godwin had accidentally shot at Lady Southwick.'
Grenville blinked. 'Why on earth would they?'
'Who knows? Perhaps one of the ladies grew tired of her so blatantly chasing the gentlemen of the party. You know that she spent much of the night in the bedchamber of Mr. Reaves.'
'With the vicar?' Grenville brought out his quizzing glass and stared through it. 'Good God.'
'I do not think your vicar prays that much, Lacey,' Lady Breckenridge said. 'He's a Cambridge man, smooth as butter. Coerced a living out of Lord Southwick, but hopes to work his way back to Cambridge and to a bishopric. A seat in the House of Lords is what he's after.'
'A Cambridge man,' I repeated. 'I wonder if he knew Miss Quinn and her solicitor, or banker, or whatever he is.'
'I will ask him,' Lady Breckenridge said.
'No, you will not. You will go to Oxfordshire.'
She shot me a mulish look. 'I am not your wife yet, Gabriel.'
'Damn it all, Donata. Do you think I want to ride out to the marshes and find bits of you lying about in the grass? Anything to do with James Denis is dangerous, and I want you well out of it.'
'What about you?' she returned heatedly. 'He is practically holding you hostage. Suppose Mr. Denis decides he likes your services and threatens to make you a permanent part of his household?'
'He will not.'
'He might whether you like it or not. I have heard the story of how he had you thrashed, then drugged and trussed up aboard a boat. If you do not return this man he's lost alive, what do you think he'll do to relieve his anger?'
'All the more reason for you to go!' My shout rang through the empty hall. I noticed, distractedly, that Grenville had faded out of sight.
'All the more reason for you to,' Donata said, undeterred. 'Give him what you've turned up and leave him. We will go together.'
'I cannot leave until Cooper is found.'
'Why the devil not?'
'Because he threatened you!' Again, my voice thundered through the stairwell, an eerie echo of my father's. 'He threatened you, Donata. And Peter. He hinted that he'd hurt you, and your son, if I did not help him.'
Lady Breckenridge stopped, her lips parting. 'Peter.'
'Yes.' I reined in my anger and took her gloved hands, so small and fragile against my large ones. 'Donata, I never meant to draw you into my sordid affairs. If you no longer want…'
I could not finish the thought. I was supposed to say, If you no longer wish to have anything to do with me, I will understand. I will release you. You have no need to stay.
But I realized I could not open my fingers and let her go. I'd come to care for this lady a little at a time, my affection like a slow-growing flower that at last bursts into exuberant bloom. I had not realized until this moment how much I loved her.
If I let Donata out of my life, she would return to the social whirl of her soirees in South Audley Street, her musicales for the creme de la creme. She'd never again have her life or that of her son threatened, or be tied to a man in the habit of finding severed hands in the marshes. I would return to my small rooms in Grimpen Lane, lonely and alone once more.
I never wanted that life again.
Donata returned the pressure of my hands. 'I will go to Oxfordshire and see to Peter,' she said. 'When this business is done, come to me there.'
I lifted her fingers to my lips. 'I will finish it swiftly, that I promise.'
She gave me a look that was pure Lady Breckenridge. 'See that you do,' she said.
Grenville offered to have his groom take the horse back to Lady Southwick, and I relinquished the reins gladly. I had no desire to return to Southwick Hall.
Before the groom assisted Donata into the carriage, I bent and kissed her lips, damn who watched. I savored the brush of her warmth, which would have to last me who knew how long. She touched my lips with her slim fingers, then ascended into the landau. Rain rolled from the landau's canvas top as Jackson started the horses, and the conveyance jerked forward.
I watched the coach recede and vanish into the gray rain, still feeling Donata's fingertips on my lips. I'd thought myself hardened by my disappointments in love, but my heart held a little ache as she went. I was becoming used to her warmth next to me at night.
To keep myself from growing maudlin, I made another search of my house. I lit lanterns that Denis's men had left behind, and I went through the place from top to bottom.
I preferred to do this alone, without Denis's lackeys watching over my shoulder. Again, I went over my home, from the nursery that was now deserted and coated with dust, to the kitchens beneath the house where the candlesticks had been found.
Denis's men had done a through job of removing rotting panels and timber, floorboards that I'd have had to replace anyway, and of ripping open the remaining furniture, which had been cheap and rickety to begin with. Anything of value in the house had been taken by the creditors upon my father's death.
Gutting the house had torn out and discarded the last of my memories. Good riddance to them.
I went to my mother's sitting room last. Donata had been right to search it again, and I put my hand over the notebook in my pocket. I was anxious to look at what my mother had taken such pains to hide from my father, but I needed better light. The ink had faded, and the pages were stained.
I took my time going over the room, looking in drawers and behind the remaining furniture, shining my lantern up the chimney. The chimney was stopped, but with nothing more than years of soot. I'd be hiring a sweep soon.
Planning renovations of the house made me feel better. Donata was right to tell me to strip it to its bones and begin again.
I also knew I was procrastinating returning to Denis. I made myself go back downstairs, where I extinguished the lanterns, led my tied horse to a fallen stone I used as a mounting block, and climbed aboard.
The rain continued to fall in earnest. I pulled my hat down over my eyes and turned the horse down paths that led to Easton's estate. The roads were far too muddy for a good canter, so I took the horse along at a slow trot.
After a time, Easton's square house loomed out of the rain, warm and brick. One of the lackeys came forward to take the horse and help me dismount, and I went inside.
I knew I'd never be given a moment to dry off, fortify myself, or hide my mother's journal, so I thrust my hat and greatcoat at the man who reached for it, retaining the bundle he tried to take from me, and went straight up to the study.
Denis looked up from writing letters. The man was always writing letters, though I never learned what was in them. This one appeared to be long, but he only ever sent me notes of two or three sentences.
When Denis saw my face, he put aside his missive and signaled the two men with him to go. When they hesitated, he actually raised his voice. 'Out!'
They went. After they closed the door, I hobbled to the desk and dumped my bundle onto it.
'Is it Cooper's?' I asked.
Denis pulled back the canvas. He stared down at the hand, his expression never changing. His body, however, went very still.
'Yes,' he said. 'Cooper is dead, then?'
'That, I do not know.' I brushed my fingers through my wet hair and explained where I'd found the hand, and how I'd searched for the rest of a body to no avail.
