“There you are,” she said with obvious relief. “I thought perhaps you’d disappeared again.”
“Not with Brewster to look after me.” I tried to sound unworried, but she was not reassured.
Brewster had already ducked down the back stairs for a cup of something, leaving me to Bartholomew, who busied himself putting away my coat and hat.
“Mr. Brewster didn’t look after you last night,” Donata said as I climbed to her.
“Not his fault. If I remain stolidly at home tonight, I will give him the evening off. He deserves the rest.”
My wife sent me an impatient look. “You cannot remain stolidly at home—we have already planned to attend the lecture. Grenville and Marianne are meeting us, as are several of my acquaintances. The entertainment is a bit provincial, I know, but I did promise.” She babbled a bit, her nervousness apparent.
I reached her, took her firmly by the shoulders, and stopped her words by firmly kissing her mouth. Donata gave me a startled look as I pulled away, and I continued past her up the stairs.
“Gabriel …” Her voice was faint behind me.
“I will prepare to go out, have no fear.” I reached my chamber, the first room at the top of the stairs. “But I want you with me all night. No going off on your own.”
Without further word, I entered my chamber and closed the door. I wondered, as I pulled off my cravat, if I meant she should stay near me for her protection or for mine.
* * *
I hadBartholomew turn me out in my regimentals. Tonight, for some reason, I wanted to appear as myself, not in the highly fashionable suits Grenville’s tailor made for me and Donata paid for. I usually allowed them to dress me as they saw fit, having no wish to embarrass my friends, but some days I wanted to put off the costume and resume my own skin.
Donata gave me a sharp look as I appeared in my cavalry blues, with its white facings and silver braid, my boots—the only concession I made to a new item—gleaming with polish.
She said nothing, however, only took my arm so I could lead her downstairs. She was in a light gown for summer, a gauzy affair of green and blue. A single feather stuck straight up from the small turban she wore over her midnight hair.
The carriage awaited. Brighton was a small enough city that even I could walk across it in little time, but we needed to arrive in style. Jacinthe, Donata’s lady’s maid, rode stiffly upright on the top of the carriage, carrying Donata’s slipper box and a bag with anything she might wish while she was out of the house.
We traveled northward to Church Street and then east to Marlborough Place, which lay north of the Pavilion. I glanced at the building whose scaffolding was now vanishing into the late twilight, expecting a shiver of horror or perhaps a slap of memory, but nothing came to me. The Pavilion was simply a great house with odd domes shimmering in the rising moonlight.
The coachman let us out in front of a private home, where we would listen to a lecture. Gabriella would meet us here, under the chaperonage of Lady Aline Carrington. Anticipating my daughter’s presence was the one reason I had not argued with Donata about going out tonight.
Our hostess was an old friend of Donata’s. She had married an army officer who’d been a commanding general on the Peninsula. He hadn’t been in charge of my regiment, but I remembered the general as a man with a sensible head on his shoulders.
I greeted him and his wife, the four of us mouthing politenesses. I would have enjoyed a good long talk with the general, but for now, we could only give each other a “Good Evening,” mention the weather, and move into the drawing room.
“Father.” My daughter hurried to me eagerly, never shy, and kissed my cheek. “Are you well?”
She peered at me anxiously. She’d spent the day with Lady Aline, who now followed her slowly. The two ladies must have speculated about my strange affliction and disappearance in the night.
“I appear to be,” I said. “A commotion over nothing. It seems I imbibed a bit too much at supper.”
“Not like you,” Gabriella said in concern.
She was kind. I tended to moderate myself while my children were in the house, but there had been times in my life when I’d been roaring and most obnoxiously drunk. I was a merry fellow when heavily in my cups, but still nothing I wanted my daughter to see.
“A man can grow immoderate when he is enjoying himself,” I said. “But I will take care not to let it happen again.”
Gabriella nodded, but continued to regard me in worry.
I bowed to Lady Aline and remarked upon how fortunate I was to lead two such lovely ladies to their seats.
“You’re a liar, but a charming one,” Lady Aline said, giving me a smile. “So pleasant to see you, dear boy.”
Grenville arrived while we exchanged compliments, Marianne on his arm. All eyes turned to them, the sensation of Grenville having actually married his actress mistress removing any attention from me.
Newspapers and magazines had already thoroughly lambasted Grenville for his misalliance, which he’d taken with aplomb. His true friends, however, had been far more forgiving. Those who’d decided to shun him had lost popularity and so were beginning to toady up again.
