“A man who takes no strong drink, not even coffee?” I shook my head.
“It might not have been opium at all,” Marianne said. “There are other substances, not as well known, that have similar effects. Plants and medicines from China and India, for example. Sailors bring them back, as do soldiers.”
“And there are plenty of soldiers in Brighton,” Grenville put in. “And sailors. Large merchantmen unload at Portsmouth, not many miles down the coast. Smugglers land anywhere they can find a cove.”
I sat back, more frustrated than ever. “Excellent. We are looking for smugglers who might have sailed here from anywhere in the world, with any exotic substance, who sought a former cavalry officer, dosed him, and set him off to either kill another officer or at least make him believe he did.”
My friends exchanged a glance. “I do see the difficulties,” Grenville said.
“Brewster advises me to leave it alone,” I replied sourly.
Grenville gestured with his brandy glass. “I see his point as well. Why should you have anything to do with it? Let Isherwood’s son try to find out what he can. You return to London and stay well out of it.”
“I have a witness,” I reminded him. “Clement. And you know I cannot go through my life wondering whether I’ve killed a man. A certain Bow Street Runner would joyfully arrest me on the speculation alone.” I spoke of Timothy Spendlove, who waited for any excuse to put me in the dock.
“I know,” Grenville said. “I did not believe you would leave it, and my suggestion was not wholehearted.”
I glanced at Marianne. “What do you think, Mrs. Grenville?”
Pink stole over her cheeks—this was the first time I’d addressed her thus. “I agree with Mr. Grenville,” she said. “You will investigate whether we believe it prudent or not.”
She’d ceased referring to Grenville ashim, I noted. I wondered if she called himLuciusin private.
“Exactly, my dear fellow,” Grenville said warmly. “What do you propose we do to help?”
I let out a breath. “We must find out everything we can about Isherwood’s enemies. You know the Regent, Grenville—why did he invite Isherwood at all? What about Lord and Lady Armitage? Lady Aline told me their history—what is it about them I need to remember?” I pressed my hands together. “In other words, please, my friends, use your connections and your penchant for persuading people to talk to you, and discover whether another did this deed or …” I swallowed. “Or whether I truly am responsible and need to make amends.”
* * *
We leftthe gathering at two in the morning, which was early for my wife, but she did not want to fatigue Gabriella.
When we reached home, Gabriella went to bed, kissing me good-night and thanking us for a fine evening. Once she was in her chamber, Donata beckoned me to her boudoir.
Donata’s maid Jacinthe unlaced and undressed her while I lounged in a chair with brandy Jacinthe had served me. I did not drink much of it, having no intention of rendering myself insensible again.
Once Jacinthe departed, taking Donata’s evening dress away to be cleaned, Donata, clad in a peignoir, seated herself at her dressing table and spoke to me through the mirror.
“I heard delicious gossip about Colonel Isherwood tonight.” She smoothed a concoction that was mostly lemon juice and milk on her cheeks then delicately wiped her face clean. “About him and his second wife, on the Peninsula. You must have met her there.”
I knew full well what the delicious gossip about Isherwood during the Peninsular conflict was, and what had happened between himself and his wife at Salamanca.
I set aside the brandy and went to Donata. She gave me a startled look as I gently grasped her elbows and eased her from her chair.
“Gabriel, what …?”
I silenced her words by kissing her. She ceased speaking, her eyes holding welcome, her arms coming around me.
I took her to bed, my beautiful wife, and lay there with her all night. I could not say we were entirely silent, but my somewhat grueling day ended with satisfaction.
* * *
In the morning,I rose and stepped through the dressing room that connected Donata’s chamber and mine to bathe and dress and have Bartholomew shave me. I’d lain in bed quite late, still exhausted, and Donata was again at her dressing table when I returned to her chamber, Jacinthe brushing out her hair.
“You did not let me tell you what I heard last night,” Donata reminded me.
I hadn’t. I did not want her to relate it now, but I knew I would have to face it sooner or later. I sipped coffee Bartholomew had brought me, girding my loins for what was to come.
“Isherwood abandoned his wife,” Donata said. “Left her high and dry while they were still on campaign and sent letters to London to begin the proceedings to divorce her.”
