Because I’m still furious with her and her brother’s antics last night, that’s why.
“Fine. I will come and see what they want,” Gray said, getting out of the chair.
“It is the correct procedure to invite them in. This parlor is suitable for such company,” Albert said.
“Do you even know who these people are?” Gray asked.
“I have a copy of Debrett’s Peerage & Baronetage. Your aunt gave it to me.”
“And what? You dashed to your rooms to check for their names?” Gray asked.
“I have read the book many times,” Albert said in a haughty tone.
“Well, good for you,” Gray said.
“I will prepare tea.”
“Don’t bother. I’m sure they are not staying.”
He walked away with his butler muttering something unflattering, wondering if he should slip out the back door and run away.
Life had taken a strange and odd slant since the night he’d found Ellen Nightingale in the fog. His mother had spoken about him to a stranger. Not just any stranger, the mother of the man whose murder he was investigating, and now he was receiving visitors.
He couldn’t lay it all at Ellen’s door, but he wanted to.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
“Good day,” Gray said, standing in his doorway. Two steps below him was the man he knew was her uncle. Ellen stood three steps lower, still on the path. Her hands were clasped around her umbrella, the weapon she’d wielded with lethal force just last night, as she swung it from side to side. She wore lavender today. Not a simple color but splashed through with mint and orange, which should be hideous but was lovely. Her lavender pelisse was a darker shade. Her bonnet had two fat ribbons tied beneath her chin and framed her pretty face. She looked sweet, disturbing, and nothing like the harridan who had threatened the man’s voice box with the tip of her umbrella.
“Hello, Detective Fletcher. I hope you don’t mind us calling. I’m Bramstone Nightingale, and of course you know my niece, Ellen.”
He was a tall man, well-dressed. His hair was darker than his nephews’, and eyes that were sharp and saw a great deal were focused on Gray. He’d learned to read people many years ago and had a feeling this was a man who knew exactly what he was about.
“How did you get my address?” Gray said for the second time that day. He stood on his doorstep, blocking entry to his town house. He didn’t know why, but he had a feeling he didn’t want Ellen Nightingale or her uncle inside his domain, as it would never be the same again.
“Constable Plummy,” Ellen said from the step below her uncle.
Gray bit back a curse. Plummy knew where he lived because he was nosey and would have asked someone, and that someone would have let it slip. He’d now told three people, and they had all presented themselves on his doorstep.
He would have harsh words with the constable when next he saw him.
“He called to see us today,” Mr. Nightingale said. “He’s in love with our housekeeper, you see.” The smile he threw his niece was genuine and full of affection. She returned it, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
Gray realized then that she was about as comfortable as he was with this situation. She might appear calm swinging her umbrella, but she was far from it. Her eyes kept darting from left to right. She was nervous.
“Can we come in?” Bramstone Nightingale asked. “I think after last night it would be better if we chatted here in the comfort of your home, don’t you? Plus, Ellen has something of a sensitive nature she wishes to discuss with you.”
“I fail to see why here is any better than at your house. You could have sent word, and I would have called. Further to that, it is not a sound notion for your family to storm about London like… like vigilantes doing work better suited for—”
“If he says men like Plummy, I won’t be responsible for my actions,” Ellen Nightingale interrupted him.
“I’m sure he wasn’t about to say any such thing,” Bramstone soothed his niece. “Were you, Detective Fletcher?”
Gray hesitated. He never hesitated. What was wrong with him? He was known as the cool head in any situation.
“He also has no wish for us to step foot inside his home, Uncle Bram, and likely sees us as quite mad after last night,” Ellen said. “Which is perfect, as I have no wish to either.”
“That is not the case at all,” Gray lied. “But it is highly irregular for me to speak on work matters here.”
