“Who’s playing the violin?” Mr. Martin asked.
“That would be Lady Guinevere.”
“Your niece?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe I’ve met her yet. She arranged for the musicians, correct?” Mr. Martin asked.
“Yes. Would you like to meet her?”
“I’d like to meet everyone in the household. I’ll need to meet these musicians of hers, as well.”
“We will start with Gwinnie, then. That is the family pet name for her,” he explained. “She won’t mind being interrupted.”
Aidan led them through the parlor and across the hall to the music room. He opened the door. “Excuse the interruption, Gwinnie. I’d like you to meet—”
“Lewis!” exclaimed Gwinnie.
Bella looked between them. A delighted smile claimed Mr. Martin’s face, while Gwinnie’s face turned as red as her hair.
“You know each other?” Aidan asked.
Mr. Martin stood silently, looking for Gwinnie to answer.
“Yes, yes we do,” Gwinnie said. “Through my charity work, isn’t that right, Mr. Martin?”
Bella compressed her lips against a laugh as she watched their interaction. The situation definitely discomfited Gwinnie. It appeared Mr. Martin, like Mr. Hargate, had not known her real name. Fascinating. What exactly did Gwinnie do that she had met both a solicitor and a Bow Street Runner, under an assumed name?
“Yes. At…at….” He snapped his fingers. “Help me here, the name escapes me, at…”
“At Mrs. Southerlands’.”
“Yes, thank you. I don’t know why I couldn’t remember the woman’s name,” he said with a smile.
“But you called him by his first name,” Aidan said to Gwinnie, frowning.
“Did I?” Gwinnie said. “That is probably because that is what Mrs. Southerlands calls him. Never Mr. Martin. Always Lewis this and Lewis that.”
“My lady, I did not know you play an instrument. Do you play the pianoforte as well as the violin?” he asked, walking over to the pianoforte. He struck a few chords and nodded. “It has a pleasant sound.”
Bella recognized his action as a diversion from further questions. Now she really was curious as to Gwinnie’s charity activities.
“Yes, I do,” Gwinnie said, joining him by the instrument, “though I prefer the violin.”
“I do like the pianoforte, though it has been a few years since I’ve played,” Mr. Martin said.
“Does the Duke know about your charity work?” Aidan asked, trying to pull the conversation back.
Gwinnie flounced, her hand on her hip. “Yes, of course,” Gwinnie said, scowling at her uncle.
Bella spoke up. “I cannot fathom how you manage to do so much!” she said. “You have your music, which I have heard you practice for hours, alone and with your ensemble—then there are your concerts, and your charity work!”
Bella turned toward Aidan. “Mr. Nowlton, your niece is an absolute wonder. I am in awe. Simply in awe. But what are we doing talking music and charities when we should discuss the shooting? Mr. Nowlton, I suggest we leave Mr. Martin to talk to Gwinnie, while we find Lord Lakehurst, so Mr. Martin can speak with him next.”
“My ensemble group will be here soon for practice. We have a concert tonight in the Argyll Rooms, so it is best Mr. Martin and I speak now,” Gwinnie said, smiling brightly at her uncle as Bella led him out of the room.
Aidan still frowned, but allowed himself to be escorted away. At the doorway to the main hall, he stopped and looked back at them standing by the pianoforte. “I will leave the door open,” he said.
