He returned to his party with considerable cheer. Summerville chose a diamond bracelet for his blushing fiancée, then the foursome said their farewells and left the shop.
The proprietor returned to me less hopefully.
“I’ll have this.” I pointed to a slim gold chain that was a little longer than a bracelet. A tiny bell with a golden clapper dangled from it.
“Ah.” The proprietor smiled at me, his interest awakened. “A most interesting choice, sir. A most interesting choice.”
***
I decided to visit the last name on Summerville’s list first.
I found the small house in Bishop’s Lane, near Oxford Street, without mishap. The lane was so narrow that my hired hackney had to stop at the top of the street and let me down. I hobbled the rest of the way on my own in the rain, the tapping of my walking stick echoing from the close walls.
Number 20 was a tall, narrow house, with Doric columns flanking the front door and Greek pediments over the windows. A young footman opened the door and gazed haughtily down at me. I handed the impudent lad my card, upon which I’d scribbled that I’d come on behalf of Mr. Summerville.
The footman departed, closing the door in my face. He returned a short time after that, let me into the house, and commanded me to follow him.
He led me up a polished staircase to a back sitting room that overlooked a narrow garden. A cheerful fire crackled on the hearth, and low chairs with cushions invited lounging. Books that looked well used lay about on tables, and candles cut the gloom. It was the room of one who enjoyed comfort but not ostentation.
The lady in question entered. I stilled, finding myself enchanted.
Mrs. Chambers was a small woman with dark brown hair and blue eyes. Her turned-up nose gave her a young look, but the settled curves of her body put her in her early thirties.
She was not beautiful, but she was arresting, as comfortable and lovely as her private sitting room. Without saying a word, she made a gentleman want to linger here, made him long to sink back into her sofa’s cushions and have her look at him with those eyes. I could only applaud Summerville’s choice.
“Captain Lacey?” Mrs. Chambers held my card in her hand and polite inquiry in her tone.
I came straight to the point. “Mrs. Chambers, Mr. Summerville believes he left an article here last evening, and has sent me as an errand boy to fetch it.”
Her smile bathed me in charm, and I decided that Summerville was a fool. He was choosing to marry the rather colorless Miss Wright instead of living out his days in comfort with this woman.
I knew why, of course. If Summerville wanted money and a career, Mrs. Chambers could give him neither. He would need the Wrights and their influence. Only the very rich or very poor could make a match in the demimonde without worry.
“A nasty day for such an errand,” Mrs. Chambers said. “Please sit down, Captain. Would you like coffee? Or perhaps something against the damp?”
I took the armchair she indicated, noting that the cushions were, indeed, soft, and stretched my aching leg toward the fire. “I will not intrude upon you long. I will simply fetch the stick, if you have it, and go.”
She sat in a smaller chair next to mine. I wondered whether I sat in Summerville’s place, and she in the more ladylike chair next to it was the usual arrangement. If so, that arrangement was a cozy one.
“His walking stick?” she asked. “With the gold head?”
I nodded.
“I thought as much,” she said. “He is always leaving it about.”
I hoped she did have it. I would have liked nothing better than to sit in this friendly room and chat with the pleasant Mrs. Chambers instead of continuing my search in the cold rain. I’d remain here and return to Summerville later this afternoon.
“Why did he not simply call for it himself?” Mrs. Chambers asked. “Equally, he could have sent a note, rather than a friend loyal enough to soak himself in the attempt.”
I returned a grateful smile and touched the top of my own walking stick. “I believe Mr. Summerville has pressing business, today. I was glad to oblige.” That is, I had been regretting my hasty decision to help, but I was now much happier about it.
“You mean he is wooing the Wright girl,” Mrs. Chambers said, her look turning wry. “Or rather, Miss Wright’s father. You needn’t worry, Captain. I know all about it.”
She regarded me in amusement, and I felt sudden impatience with Summerville. “I beg your pardon. I did not mean to embarrass you.”
“I am not embarrassed in the least. I admit that I am not fond of his decision to marry, but I understand. Mr. Summerville hasn’t many other avenues open to him.”
“You are courageous,” I said quietly.
