proportion of gentlemen to ladies.'
I had noticed. Three ladies to seven gentlemen, including myself.
'Lady Southwick does not like to share,' Grenville said. 'But it would not look well for her if she had no ladies in the party at all.'
I had puzzled over the reason Donata wanted me to stay in the house of a predatory woman, but I thought I understood. Lady Breckenridge's first husband had practiced infidelity without shame, even bringing his mistresses into the Breckenridge household. Had Lord Breckenridge been here, he'd already have let Lady Southwick net him and then moved on to the other ladies of the party. I'd once witnessed Lord Breckenridge fondle another woman while his wife stood not a yard away.
Donata had professed not to care, but I'd seen the hurt in her eyes, the anger that had turned into acerbic humor and a cynical view of the world.
Lady Breckenridge wished to determine, before she married me, whether I'd do as Lord Breckenridge had done. I could not grow offended at her worry-Breckenridge had put Donata through a terrible time of it. If she needed to be certain that I would not do the same, then so be it.
'At least the food is not bad,' I said. I pulled on the cheroot, following it with a deep drink of port. The port was rich and smooth, complimenting the dusky taste of the cheroot.
'Lady Southwick has a fine chef, yes, but he's temperamental. As long as he does not grow angry, we eat well. The moment he goes on a tear, we dine on hardtack and water.'
'Continental, is he?'
'As English as the pair of us. Local born, son of a fisherman, happened to stow away on a boat to France and get an education in food.' Trust Grenville to know the pedigree of every chef in England. 'Luckily for us.'
'What of Marianne?' I asked. Marianne Simmons, former actress at Drury Lane Theatre and once my upstairs neighbor, was now more or less openly Grenville's mistress.
I did not ask why Grenville hadn't brought her with him-Lady Southwick, for all her reputation for chasing gentlemen, was a lady of the aristocracy, who would hardly invite a stage actress turned courtesan to her gathering. If Marianne had been famous-another Sarah Siddons, say-leeway might be given, but Marianne had never risen higher than the chorus.
'She is in Berkshire,' Grenville said. 'I told her I'd take her to Paris when this visit was done, and she agreed. She has the full run of the Clarges Street house now, as well as use of my carriage. There are those who wonder when she'll get at the family plate. I have become a laughingstock.'
He spoke lightly, and I knew that Grenville, in truth, did not care what people said about him in regard to Marianne. The challenge of Marianne, for him, was too interesting to abandon because the dandies at White's sneered.
'You will make it highly fashionable to take lesser actresses as paramours. I believe Mr. Godwin already is pursuing a lady of the chorus.'
Grenville glanced down the table at Rafe Godwin, and took another, and somewhat derisive, pinch of snuff.
The conversation of the Mayfair gentlemen grew louder, as though they were determined not to care that the great Grenville ignored them to speak to a rube like me. Reaves was the only one who remained decorous, listening while he sipped his brandy.
Grenville suggested a game of billiards to me, and I gladly followed him across the hall to the wide billiards room. The decor here was of naked gods and goddesses cavorting, enough to put a man off his game.
I fetched balls while Grenville chose a cue. 'Now that I've cornered you, Lacey, I must pick a bone. Matthias tells me that Bartholomew told him that you'd disappeared into the mists on your way over here and returned looking as though you'd swum the channel. After you'd wallowed in mud a bit.'
I rolled white and red balls onto the table, lifted my port and cheroot from where I'd set them on a side table, and enjoyed another mouthful of both. 'Our footmen need to find other things to discuss.'
'Nothing interests them more than what you get up to. What about it?'
'A complicated story,' I said.
'For God's sake, Lacey, put me out of my misery and tell me.'
I decided to lay off tormenting him. As Grenville took his first shot, I briefly related what had happened with Easton.
Grenville stood up as the balls rolled gently across the table. 'Good Lord. And you got him off safely?'
'I hope so. Unless Denis has all fishermen on the Norfolk coast in his pay, I believe the brigadier will reach Amsterdam without too much mishap.'
'What about you, Lacey? What happens when Denis discovers his bird has flown?'
'I will cross that bridge when I come to it. I know I owe Denis a debt, but I refuse to repay it by helping him with dark deeds.'
'But he did not ask you to kill Easton for him. He asked you only to deliver the note.'
I took another drink of port, emptying the glass. 'To make me aware of what he intended for Easton and to ensure that I was part of it, no matter how remotely. Captain Lacey visits Brigadier Easton, Easton is agitated, and then Easton is dead. What will a magistrate make of that?'
'And now Easton has disappeared. What will a magistrate make of that?'
'Another bridge I will cross.'
Grenville retrieved a ball that had rolled to a stop. 'You walk a knife's edge, Lacey.'
'As ever.' I lifted my cheroot, waiting for him to shoot again. 'Better entertainment than watching Lady Southwick stalking her prey.'
'As I believe that prey is me, your comment is less than amusing.'
I had a smile at his expense, then we bent to the game.
Later that night, when Bartholomew had left me and I'd gone to bed, I heard my bedroom door open. I did not worry that Lady Southwick had come to pounce, because I knew the sound of Donata's movements and her scent.
I had slept without my nightshirt in hopes she'd come, and when Lady Breckenridge slid her warm, bare body over mine, I forgot about Denis and Easton, the sneers of the gentlemen in the dining room, and the wreck of my father's house. For a brief and wonderful while, all was right with my world.
Donata did not stay, and I woke early and alone. While I knew that most people in her circle were aware that Lady Breckenridge and I sometimes shared a bed, it would never do to be seen practicing our sins. Appearance is all, in my set, she'd say. A ridiculous thing, but there it is.
Before she went, I asked her to accompany me to my father's house, and she agreed we would go there in the afternoon. Donata habitually stayed in bed until after one, so with Bartholomew's assistance, I rose, dressed, and breakfasted, then borrowed a horse and rode off on my own.
I went back to Easton's house. I'd helped the man escape Denis's rather brutal form of justice, and I wanted to know why.
When I reached the house, I found the butler outside, arguing with and gesticulating to a beefy man. The large man was familiar to me-one of the pugilists who worked for James Denis, and who usually stood guard in Denis's study, watching visitors with a cautious eye.
The man saw me and gestured for me to follow him inside. I dismounted and handed the reins to the butler, who was quivering in terror.
I walked inside the house and stopped in astonishment. At least half a dozen of Denis's men swarmed the hall and the downstairs rooms, pulling up carpets, tearing off paneling, and breaking holes in Brigadier Easton's walls.
Chapter Three
'What the devil?' My voice rose above the noise of the demolition. Two of the men looked up, saw me, and
