“That’s all right. Just want to speak with Mr. George there.”
Frederick walked over to his table.
“Find her?” the man asked.
“I did. May I join you for a few minutes?”
“Suit yourself.”
Frederick sat down and explained the situation.
“She said what?” Mr. George stared at him. “Can you imagine a man like me dressing up as a woman, let alone a nun? The fellows would never let me hear the end of it! Why on earth would I do such a thing?”
“That is what I am trying to find out.”
Mr. George shook his head, lips pressed into a regretful smile. “Look, I don’t like to say anything against a lady. But let’s remember this is the same young woman who reported seeing a ghost—a ghost who turned out to be a living, breathing nun. I’d put it down to a vivid imagination and too many Gothic novels—that’s my guess.”
“Then why did you chase her into the cloisters?”
“Chase her? What would you do if you saw a young lady bolt from a room? Would you not think she was in danger? Maybe needed help? Would you stand there and do nothing?”
“No,” Frederick allowed, then studied the man’s face. “Has Miss Lane any reason to fear you?”
Mr. George’s nostrils flared. He looked genuinely offended. “I am a man of honor where women are concerned. Ask anyone. I do my best to protect them, though I have not always succeeded. Miss Lane has nothing to fear from me.”
Frederick relaxed a bit, finding he believed him. On this point, at least.
“May I ask your connection to Miss Newport?” Frederick didn’t mention he’d been seen in Miss Newport’s room—first, because Rebecca had seen only his back there, and second, because then he’d have to explain how Rebecca had managed it. The role of Peeping Tom was not a flattering one.
George made a face. “Connection?” He chuckled. “I hopeyou are not suggesting a romantic one. You could not be more wrong. I have known her since girlhood.”
Frederick wanted to ask more, about the mace and the chapel, but Mr. George abruptly stood. “Look. It’s late. In my current temper, and after two whiskeys, I might say something terribly rude. Can this not keep till morning?”
“Are you staying on here?”
“I had planned to go tomorrow, but I’ll not leave until we talk again.”
Frederick held his gaze. “Very well. I will take you at your word, as a man of honor.”
George’s eyes glinted, then he turned on his heel and strode away.
Frederick would have liked to detain Mr. George and demand more answers. He had reason to suspect Miss Newport, but had insufficient grounds to demand anything of this man.
Frederick returned to Thomas’s room. His brother was in bed but had left one lamp burning low. Frederick sat in a chair near him and asked, “Did Miss Newport ever mention Mr. George to you? Hint at any connection?”
“Mr. George? The guard?”
Frederick nodded. “He and Miss Newport pretended not to know one another. But they were seen talking again tonight.”
Thomas sat up in bed with a frown. “I don’t understand. Are you suggesting Selina is involved with this George fellow?”
“In some way, yes. Although not romantically. He admitted he has known her since her girlhood.”
Thomas blinked, his complexion sallow by lamplight. “You think they were in on it together? That Selina ...? I can’t believe it. Wait! You said you had no proof she struck anyone.”
Frederick narrowed his eyes. “Forget I said that.”
“What!”
