Aline directed her coach to take me home, and I swallowed my pride and accepted the offer. Though it was a short way to South Audley Street, and Brewster had ridden on the back of the coach from Manchester Square, I did not fancy meeting Mr. Arthur or his toughs in the dark rain.
I told Brewster good night when I reached the house and mounted the stairs to the upper floors. Bartholomew undressed me and helped me slide into a thick banyan, in which I settled down to wait for Donata in her dressing room. I knew she’d be quite late, and I didn’t want to be fast asleep in bed when she arrived.
I did nod off in the armchair, my early morning and full day taking its toll. When Donata sailed in, I jumped awake, snorting inelegantly.
“Gabriel,” my wife greeted me, dropping a kiss to the top of my head on her way to sit before her dressing table. Jacinthe immediately removed the necklace of thick diamonds from Donata’s bosom and laid it carefully into a case.
Jacinthe, ignoring me as usual, assisted Donata out of her gown and into a peignoir, then unpinned and brushed out her hair. Observing the two was like watching a dance. They’d performed this ritual for so many years that they moved in perfect coordination, each playing her part, their gestures elegant.
Or, perhaps I’d dozed off again as I watched. When my vision cleared, Donata stood over me, and we were alone.
“I am pleased you arrived home without being set upon by another man with a knife,” she said. “I will have to thank Mr. Brewster for that.” Her voice softened as she took my hands. “I am happy you waited for me.”
Donata’s touch stirred warmth inside me, but I’d lingered here for a different reason. “I have things to tell you,” I said.
“Ah, yes. The matter you declared you wished to discuss, and then left me hanging without a hint as to what it was. Let us find a comfortable sofa to repose on, and you can regale me with it.”
She released me and moved into her bedchamber, and I heaved myself from the chair and followed.
Donata sank onto a long settee replete with pillows that faced the fireplace and waited for me to join her. I did so with pleasure, stretching my feet toward the fire’s warmth.
“I had a letter today,” I told her after we’d settled in. “From Lady.”
I’d long ago told Donata the tale of my search for Miss Thornton and those I’d met along the way. She’d puzzled about Lady’s identity with me, but neither of us had drawn any conclusions.
“Did you indeed?” she asked, her brows climbing.
“She wants to meet with me.” I explained about the cryptic letter Lady had written and my reply to it. “I will speak to her tomorrow afternoon at the bakeshop and discover what she wants to tell me.” I hesitated. “Would you care to accompany me?”
Donata sat back, clearly surprised by my request. Emotions warred behind her eyes before she shook her head.
“Best I do not,” she said in resignation. “If this young woman is gently born, as you speculate, she might worry about me recognizing her. Even if that is not a concern for her, I am certain she will not speak freely to you if I am there.” Her disappointment was obvious.
I studied the yellow heart of the flames before me. “You are likely right, but I had no intention of keeping a rendezvous with a young lady from your knowledge. I am interested in who she might be and why she’s seeking my help. No other reasons.”
“You do not need to reassure me, Gabriel,” Donata said in a light tone. “I am not a jealous harridan.”
However, she did grow uneasy whenever I spoke to a lady she perceived as a threat to our happy marriage. I chose not to remark upon this.
I could not become angry at Donata’s distrust, because many gentlemen in her circle took mistresses. Her own husband had most blatantly done so. It was an unusual man, in her experience, who remained faithful to his wife.
Donata slipped her hand into the crook of my arm and rested her head on my shoulder. “Go to your rendezvous with my blessing,” she said. Her grip tightened. “But upon your return, you must tell me everything.”
I slept later than usual the next day, which was heavily overcast, clouds plus smoke from London’s many chimneys blotting out the sunlight. It was difficult to haul myself from the nest of Donata’s bed, leaving warmth and comfort for cold grayness.
I took my morning ride, though I was inclined not to, knowing the exercise kept my bad knee from becoming unbearably stiff. After that, I had time to consume a light midday meal—Barnstable insisted—and hire a hackney to Covent Garden for my appointment with Lady.
Donata and I had debated her coming along with me in her coach and waiting upstairs in my rooms in Grimpen Lane for the meeting to conclude. Donata had at last decided against it, stating that Lady would hardly fail to notice the Breckenridge carriage lodged in Russel Street. Besides, she concluded, she’d not be able to stop herself peering out my sitting room windows.
Hence, I found a hackney on Mount Street, and Brewster and I made our way through the gloomy afternoon to Grimpen Lane.
Brewster had not, in fact, returned home the previous night. He did not like the idea of Arthur’s ruffians lurking about and had wanted to ensure they left us well alone. None had approached the house, he’d reported, which was welcome news.
We descended together in Covent Garden and continued to the bakeshop on foot. I had arrived early, not wanting Lady to be concerned that I might not appear.
I did not glimpse her through the shop’s window and decided to step upstairs to my rooms for a moment. If Lady needed a private place to speak to me, I’d bring her there, and I wanted to be certain all was tidy.
Brewster clomped upstairs ahead of me. I followed, remembering the many times I’d hauled my tired body up this staircase.
