“But?”
Drake blinked at him, as if just coming awake. “But? Nothing. I approve of your choice. The question will be whether she does.”
Which lazy observation sent another flash of guilt stabbing through Grey. “No,” he said, turning again toward the over-sized rowhouse on Brook Street that held all the myriad Packhams. “It was not intentional.”
Drake nodded amiably, lifting a hand in greeting to a gentleman strolling the other way. “She is a lovely girl.”
Drake stared at him. “Girl? That is no girl. That is a whirlwind.”
Another lazy smile. “You will have to either enjoy being managed or come to some mutually agreeable compromise. After all these years being in control of the clans, she will naturally take charge.”
“If she can make those little girls happy, she can take charge of anything she wants.” He found himself grinning. “I may also let her take charge of the livestock.”
That merited another raised eyebrow. Grey refused to explain.
“The other excellent benefit of tonight,” Drake mused as if continuing a thought, “is that she is more than well-set-up. She is, in coarse parlance, filthy rich. She will be everything you need if you’re smart enough to hold onto her.”
Funny. He hadn’t even considered that. “Thank you for the endorsement. Now, why else are you acting the limpet this fineevening? There are at least four other balls, a musicale, and Covent Garden to be enjoyed.”
Drake smiled again. “I am not allowed to support a comrade-in-arms?”
“I have never known you to perform an altruistic act that did not also involve a bit of hugger muggery.”
“No, no. Nothing of the sort. I just wanted you to know that I approve your choice, since she can quite easily manage your home while you are away. Next week.”
Grey slammed to a stop. “No.”
Suddenly Drake wasn’t looking quite so sanguine. “I wish I could send someone else. But I fear our friends in Paris are already too well-known. A military attaché liaising with those involved in the peace preparations will barely be worth a notice.”
“I understand that. But I will not leave so soon. If you want me there, those are my terms.”
“Even if Gracechurch is dead?”
Grey caught his breath. “Is he?”
For the first time Drake hesitated. Turning away, he lazily swung his quizzing glass as he considered the leafing trees in the square. “We don’t know. I have a bad feeling, though.”
“As harsh as it sounds, he won’t be any more dead in three weeks. Give me a chance to settle in with my family before I leave, or I suspect my new wife will make me pay for the rest of my life. And you, if she finds out you are involved.”
“A wife who has not accepted your hand yet.”
Drake scowled at him and started walking again, hands in his pockets. “I’m afraid after the spectacle her aunt put on tonight, she’ll have little choice.”
“I’m not so sure,” Drake mused, strolling along beside him. “She also has a rather charming streak of independence. “
Grey scowled at him. “In what way?”
“Well, every Friday while the rest of the house naps in preparation for their active social life, Lady Georgianna disappears.”
Grey came to a halt. “Disappears? Where?”
Drake shrugged. “Her maid calls her a hackney back by the mews and they leave.”
“And why do you know this?”
Drake looked at him like a particularly slow-witted first former. “Her father is on the Privy Council. Her brother and cousins are performing a bit of extracurricular governmental service much as you have. She was a student in that particular boarding school so she could be protected from people who would try to use underhanded methods to influence the men in her life. It is my job to know.”
“But you don’t know where she goes.”
