Armitage had the grace to look embarrassed. “Forgive me, Grenville, but you have not met the gentlemen I have in my life. Diplomats are the least trustworthy people in existence. And upon them hang the fate of nations.”
I wondered if he included himself in that number.
Armitage liked to dominate, I could see. He wanted control of a place, a conversation, and what was said when his friends left him. I wondered if that control had extended to his brother, to the point of deciding that the woman who was to marry that brother would be better off with Armitage himself.
To give him the benefit of doubt, war played arbitrary tricks on people’s lives, altering them forever, as it had altered mine. There was nothing to say his brother had simply not stood in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Armitage took his leave of us and breezily walked away, heading toward the lighted part of the green from which the fireworks would be viewed.
Grenville dropped his quizzing glass into its pocket then removed a handkerchief and dabbed his mouth as though he’d tasted something foul.
“His is an old title,” he said, tucking the handkerchief away. “Which makes him believe himself untouchable. My family is far more lofty than his, but as I am a distant twig, he dismisses me. You, of course, are a dust mote in his very small mind.”
“So I gathered.” I leaned on my stick, my energy giving way. “His accusation of Mrs. Isherwood is unlikely, in my opinion. She was an unhappy woman, ill-used. She does not deserve more dishonor piled upon her.”
Grenville was looking me up and down, his famous brows high.
“Is something amiss?” I asked tersely.
“You are a man of great reserve, Lacey. You know my entire history, while bits and pieces of yours turn up at the oddest times.”
“Not quite. You had a daughter you kept to yourself.”
“Inever knew I had a daughter until the fact was slapped in my face.” He took on a fond look. “She is doing well, by the way. Gained much applause for her portrayal of Portia at Drury Lane this spring.”
“So I have heard.” Grenville’s obvious pride in Claire Bennington would divert me any other time. “Forgive me if I have not provided you a list of my paramours from the time I was able to understand what one did with a woman until my present marriage. It would hardly be kind to the ladies.”
“That is not what I mean, which you know very well,” Grenville returned. “But I would have thoughtthisinformation relevant, as the woman’s husband has been murdered.” He let out a sigh. “Unfortunately your affair with Mrs. Isherwood makes you still more of a suspect. Gentlemen have battled over ladies before. Do regularly, in fact.”
“It was a long time ago.” I heard the weakness of the statement even as I said it. “She was far better off without the blackguard Isherwood. Why should I fight him about her now?”
Grenville rubbed a finger under his lip. “I’d love for your memory of the night to come flooding back.”
“As would I.” I tamped down despair as the emptiness of those hours rose up to mock me. “But I’ve lost time before when inebriated. I may never recall what happened.”
“I doubt you went temporarily mad.” Grenville must have read my unhappiness, because he put a kind hand on my shoulder. “Never fear, my friend. We will discover what occurred and why you were dosed and by who. We will pull together and not let you down.” He removed his comforting touch. “However, you must oblige me by telling me the tale of you and Mrs. Isherwood. Then we will decide whether Armitage is correct about her, or if he is simply being a fathead.”
My uncertainty about the question bothered me. I believed my assessment of Marguerite the true one, but Armitage had sowed doubt.
I noted the crowd gathering on the green. “The fireworks are about to begin.”
“Indeed. Let us return to our happy families and enjoy ourselves.”
Grenville gave me an encouraging nod and led the way back to civilization.
* * *
Grenville rejoined Marianne,and was soon surrounded by her friends—actors and actresses who were quite taken with him. I broke from them after a few moments to seek my wife and daughter.
The Steine was very dark beyond the lantern-lit main path. While the park had a simple layout, there were patches under trees that were inky black, a perfect trysting spot for lovers or a hiding place for robbers.
I fancied I spied Lady Aline Carrington, or at least her outlandish headdress, feathers waving above a large turban. Donata and Gabriella would be near her, or Aline would know where I could find them.
A loudbangannounced the first of the fireworks. It rose in a red nimbus, bursting over the towers of the Pavilion to rapturous applause.
More explosions followed the first, white, orange, and green spangling the night. The crowd surged in front of me, cutting off my view of Lady Aline. I skirted them, moving along a path overhung with trees, plunged into darkness as I sought the light.
I felt a rush of air to my right. Assuming I was about to be assailed, I sidestepped, bringing up my walking stick to fend off the villain.
