Once outside, she did not walk sedately, as a lady should when strolling through the streets of London. Instead, she lifted her skirts to an immodest but efficient level for running and tore down Harley Street, turned at the next corner and ran the three streets to the Wimpole Street address that Gregory had given her.
There she stopped to stare up at the house, momentarily afraid to go further. It was not proper to visit a gentleman unescorted. But if she considered the things she had done with Gregory, she was probably no longer a lady. Her desire to be bound by convention had kept her from doing things she actually wanted to do for too long. She could not waste another minute. She took a deep breath to settle her nerves and grabbed the knocker, letting it drop.
She was still out of breath from running when a butler answered, staring down at her with the sort of distant confusion that one got from servants confronting the unexpected.
In his moment of hesitation, she could not resist craning her neck to gaze past him at the hall. Everything within sight was new, clean and elegant, just as she had imagined a house owned by Gregory Drake would be.
It did not give off the sense of inherited wealth and power that Comstock Manor did. Nor was it cosy, as she remembered the vicarage being. But it did not smell musty and it did not leak and when things broke Gregory could afford to have them mended or replaced. That she could be mistress of a house was yet another revelation.
The butler cleared his throat. ‘May I help you, miss?’
She smiled up at him. No. She beamed, for he was just one more example of the efficient household in her future. ‘Is Mr Drake in?’
‘I am sorry, miss. The master is currently away from town.’
For a moment, she had trouble comprehending the words. When they had parted this morning he had promised that he would be there if she needed him. And yet he was already gone. Had it been nothing more than the sort of empty courtesy that he offered in parting to all his clients?
If she had learned anything from the last week, it was that she must make an effort to understand others rather than demanding a perfection that even she was not capable of maintaining. He had promised he would be there for her. If he was not at home, there would be an explanation for whatever happened. She simply had to find him and ask.
‘Where did he go?’ she demanded, leaning to the side to peer around the servant, half-expecting that Gregory would appear out of nowhere as he always seemed to when she wanted him.
This time, the butler moved to block her view. ‘I am not at liberty to say, miss.’
‘Then when will he be back?’
‘He did not say, miss. If you wish to leave a card, he will be informed of your visit when he returns.’
‘No.’ She backed away from the door. ‘No, thank you. I will find him myself.’
The butler was looking at her as though she might run mad in the street. Since that was how she had arrived at the house, she should not be surprised.
‘It is all right,’ she assured him, still backing away. ‘Perfectly all right.’
He closed the door slowly. She was sure, as she turned and hurried back down the street, that he watched her from the window. But was the butler the only one to do so? Gregory might be waiting behind a curtain as well, having informed his staff that, should Miss Strickland appear, he was not at home to her.
She could not believe that. He had promised if she came to him he would not turn her away. He would not have said it if he had not meant it. But that left the question of where he might have gone in less than a day and how she might find him if he had given no one permission to tell her.
She smiled. To find Gregory Drake, she would have to think like Gregory Drake. If he wanted to find a person, he would search systematically using whatever clues he could find. Of course, he had a well-developed network of contacts all over London. She had not as much as a mutual friend to ask.
She knew his last employer. She could write to her sister and tell her to ask Mr Leggett to divulge anything he might know about the man he had hired. But that would take weeks, at a minimum. And since Gregory had completed the job for her family, he was likely to be working for someone else, already.
Of course, I offered my services...
And suddenly she knew.
* * *
The trip to the Clarendon was but a short ride through the city. But today, it seemed like the longest journey of Hope’s life. She took the time to return to the town house and let Polly comb the tangles from her hair. She put on her best visiting gown, bonnet, coat and gloves. Beyond that, she took no more care than she would for any other visit. She had spent weeks preparing herself for the man she was about to meet. Now that the moment had arrived, it was not as much anticlimactic as totally unrelated to the things that truly mattered to her.
All the same, she was nervous. Once she arrived at the hotel, she gave her calling card to a porter and asked him to deliver it to her cousin with her wish to speak to him in the dining room. Then, she sat down to wait.
A short time later, a gentleman appeared in the doorway, scanning the room as if searching for her. If she had been expecting a family resemblance, she was disappointed. He was taller than her grandfather had been and thinner as well. His hair was dark. It seemed almost black against his skin which was unnaturally pale. His eyes were a not particularly vibrant green.
Her grandmother had called him handsome. While she did not disagree, his appearance left her strangely unmoved. Her head was too full of another man to appreciate him. Once he had recovered his health, her cousin would devastate the maidens of Almack’s. She wished them luck.
But of one thing she was sure: he did not look as she expected an earl to look. There was some undefinable thing missing from him that she’d taken for granted in her grandfather and his peers. Was it arrogance? Pride? Or merely the confidence of a man who controlled the world around him for further than his eye could reach. Miles Strickland did not appear to be a master of his universe. He looked as though he was not sure where he belonged.
All the same, he intimidated her. Now that the opportunity had finally come to meet the heir, all her practising was for naught. She rose as he drew near, and dropped into a wobbly curtsy. ‘My Lord Comstock.’
