Mr. Gibbons exited the house as we approached by means of a door next to the ground-floor shop. “Captain Lacey, well met again.”
“I found him rushing from the park,” Marguerite said, withdrawing her hand from my arm. “Someone shot at him, it seems.”
“Truly?” Gibbons raised his brows. “Perhaps you heard a firework and mistook it?”
“Not when the pistol discharged five feet from me,” I explained. “I thought it best I see your wife safely home—even quiet Brighton has dangers.”
Gibbons tucked Marguerite’s hand in the crook of his elbow, looking not at all worried that I had walked closely with her in the dark. “We’ve lived on the coast for years, Captain, and know its perils.”
He dismissed the threat, as she did. I wished the pair of them well.
“Good night,” I said, tipping my hat.
“Good night, Captain,” Marguerite said. “Thank you for your courtesy.”
Gibbons echoed her farewell, and I bowed and left them.
“Odd folk.” Brewster shoved his hands into his coat pockets and slouched next to me along Bedford Row. “Want me to find out what they’re really here for?”
“The reading of the will presumably. But it would be wise to keep an eye out. Discreetly, of course.”
Brewster returned an irritated look. “I’m always discreet, guv. They’ll never know I’m there.”
Brewster was a large man with a loud voice, but I believed him. Mr. Denis employed only the best.
* * *
I wenthome at Brewster’s continued prodding, but only after he promised to return to the Steine and make certain Donata and Gabriella were looked after. He seemed aggrieved I’d think he wouldn’t go, and disappeared into the night.
Bartholomew was surprised and appalled at my ruined suit but quickly had me out of my clothes and into a banyan and slippers. After he left me, I sat at my writing table with pen in hand, trying to make sense out of all that had happened thus far. My lists were disjointed, my handwriting shaky.
Finally I threw down my pen and gave up.
Noise below announced the arrival of my family. I went to meet them, relieved to see both Grenville and Brewster escorting Donata and Gabriella, Grenville having taken them under his wing. Brewster departed at last, but Grenville lingered.
I kissed my daughter good night, and she held fast to me. “Did you grow ill, Father? You ought to have told us—we’d have come home together.”
Brewster had apparently kept the story of the shooting to himself. “I am well,” I assured her. “I decided to have an early night and did not wish to spoil your enjoyment.”
“Spending an evening with you is always enjoyable, Father.” My daughter gave me a winsome smile, making me wonder if she teased or was serious. “Good night, sir.” She touched another kiss to my cheek and then went upstairs.
Donata sent me a steely glance, but she said not a word as Jacinthe relieved her of her light wraps and escorted her up. I called a good-night to Donata, but she never turned, never answered.
Grenville cleared his throat. He beckoned me into the front sitting room and closed the door against the servants, who were shutting down the small house for the night.
“Donata learned early in her first marriage not to twit her husband about his indiscretions,” Grenville said in a quiet voice. “So she will not mention she saw you hurry away from the park with Mrs. Gibbons.”
I groaned in dismay. “Oh, good Lord. Mrs. Gibbons followedme. I haven’t put it out of my head thatsheshot at me.”
Grenville’s eyes widened. “Shot …”
I quickly told him what had happened. “Brewster insisted I take myself indoors at once. Mrs. Gibbons caught up to me, and I took the opportunity to quiz her on why she’d come to Brighton.”
Grenville went very still as he listened to my tale. “I must learn never to turn my back on you, old friend,” he said when I’d finished. “You fall into adventures faster than any man I know.”
“Someone is trying to make my life very difficult,” I agreed. “I am grateful you remained with Donata and Gabriella, though I believe I rendered them safer by leaving them. I seem to be hunted only when I am alone.”
“You should not be left alone then.” Grenville eyed me steadily. “But I’d go down on my knees and beg Donata’s pardon, or she might show you the door. No—to be honest, I believe she would simply retreat from you and pretend to the world that all was well.”
