Clement considered this then nodded. “Thought the same about you. A stab like that would have sprayed you all over. You had a little blood on you, but only what smeared from the sword. And you had the same fear, like.”
I loosened in some relief. “Good. I’m pleased to find you are sensible. You do see, do you not, why both of us need to find out who really killed him?”
Clement regarded me in unhappy silence before nodding once more. “Please don’t tell me mum.”
“She will likely hear the tale sooner or later,” I warned in a quiet voice. “Of Isherwood’s death if nothing else, in a place you are employed. I assume you ran and fetched the majordomo that night, who gave you instructions to say nothing at all?”
Another nod. “I had to help him clear out the body.” Clement shuddered. “We carried him out on the dust sheet and the majordomo gave the man to his son. Not nice work.”
I didn’t imagine it would have been. “I have not asked you why you happened to be traipsing around the Pavilion in time to catch me over Isherwood’s body. What were you doing in the banqueting room at that time?”
If I expected him to stutter and stammer and try to come up with a lie, I was disappointed. Clement gave me a surprised look and said, “Quickest way to the kitchens, innit, cutting through that room. I was peckish.”
Grenville chuckled. “How many nights in my youth did I wander my father’s dark mansion in search of sustenance? And again when I was at school? There was never enough at meals to satisfy me.”
I was not ready to take Clement’s word without question, but I could not deny that I had done the same as a boy.
“I carried food and drink to the table all night,” Clement went on. “Run off my feet, and didn’t get much past a crust of bread for my trouble. I knew there’d be leftovers from the meal going begging.” He glared as though daring me to tell him he’d been wrong.
Heels clicked in the hall, and Grenville sprang up to open the door. Clement’s mother entered with a full tray, which Grenville took from her, setting it on the table.
“Thank you, sir.” She gave him a curtsy. “Thisis how a gentleman behaves, Clement. Take note. A cup of tea, sir? I am afraid I cannot offer you other. I have no strong drink in my house.”
“Tea is admirable, dear lady.” Grenville took a seat as she sat down to pour out. “What do we call you, madam? We can hardly keep referring to you as Clement’s mum.”
She gave Grenville a quick smile but one that said she saw through his charm. “I am Mrs. Morgan. Cecilia is my Christian name. Mr. Morgan is deceased—I am a widow. We come from London, but we moved to Brighton when the Regent began hiring servants for his Pavilion. I sent Clement along to see if he could get a place, as the pay was decent. I would like to think the majordomo hired my Clement because he is clever and well-mannered, but I rather think it was because he’s tall and looks fine in the livery.”
“Mum …” Clement sank into the window seat, embarrassed.
Mrs. Morgan handed Grenville a cup and began filling another. “My husband was a merchant who sold goods from India as they came off the ships. A wholesaler. He did well in his business, if not brilliantly, and left me comfortable. I tell you this to save you the breath of asking questions about Clement’s life. He was well brought up and mostly stays free of trouble.”
I took the tea Mrs. Morgan handed me, noting the glint of amusement in her eyes. She was very curious about us in return but wasn’t about to say so.
“Clement is a fine lad,” I said. “And has caused no trouble that I know of. Before I drink your tea, I will introduce myself. I am Captain Gabriel Lacey, late of the Thirty-Fifth Light Dragoons. This gentleman is Mr. Lucius Grenville, a famous dandy and friend of the Regent. In spite of this, he too can keep himself from trouble.”
“I have heard of Mr. Grenville, of course.” Mrs. Morgan gave him a nod. “I thought it was you, sir. I read in the newspaper that you had arrived in Brighton with your new wife. My felicitations. I am honored by your visit.”
“Not at all. Thank you.” Grenville made a bow from his chair. “Captain Lacey enjoys teasing, you might have noted.”
“I gathered that. The newspapers seem even more agog about your wife than yourself, Mr. Grenville. An actress, they say. A scandal, is it?” Her tone was curious, not condemning.
Grenville flushed. “A romance, in truth. Once I met my love, I could marry no other.”
“A very good answer.” Mrs. Morgan lifted her teacup. “If a bit affected. Well, gentlemen. Please tell me the true reason you’ve come, and what you want of my son.”
“Never you mind,” Clement blustered. “They wanted to give me shillings is all.”
I exchanged a glance with Grenville. His uncertainty matched mine. This lady seemed intelligent, and the event concerned her son, but how discreet could she be?
“Bloke was killed at the Pavilion,” Clement blurted out before I could decide. Under his mother’s eye, he wilted, clutching the window seat’s cushion. “A colonel what was at the supper party on Monday night.”
“Colonel Isherwood from the Forty-Seventh Light Dragoons,” I finished. “He was a regimental colonel at Preston Barracks.”
Mrs. Morgan’s teacup lowered slowly as she stared at first Clement, then Grenville and me. Her good humor drained away. “Colonel Isherwood?”
Grenville leaned forward. “Did you know him, madam?”
Mrs. Morgan regarded us sharply, animation returning to her face. “What is this? Why do you say he was killed, and at the Pavilion?”
