I escorted Donata to Drury Lane Theatre and Lady Aline’s box, then returned to meet Grenville in the theatre’s foyer. Grenville’s coachman, Jackson, waited with his carriage, and we rode in some luxury to Piccadilly and our meeting.
Once we left the coach, Grenville led me to a warm room upstairs from a coffee house very close to the Fox Run tavern. A few tables dotted the small space, with enough chairs pulled in so everyone could sit.
I recognized many of the gentlemen there, having met them in various places—Tattersall’s, Grenville’s gatherings, assembly rooms, the theatre or opera. About a quarter of those attending were strangers to me, but the rest nodded in greeting as Grenville ushered me in.
He’d been correct to warn me that the “meeting” would be little more than consuming large quantities of drink and airing petty grievances. A vast bowl of punch sat in the middle of a table, most of it port from its fragrance, with slices of orange floating in it.
A servant ladled a cup out for me. I sipped politely but someone had decided to ruin this port with a large amount of sugar, and I soon put it aside.
The discussion tonight was about the usual things—domestic tariffs that kept the prices of luxuries high and foreign tariffs, which made exporting wool expensive and discouraged buyers in other countries. What was the point of pouring money into sheep rearing when one couldn’t expect a decent return? Running the flocks on plantations in Scotland helped, but then there were all those Scots angry about losing their farmlands. Not that the Scots were good at farming anyway, a few scoffed. Meager crops were all that could be expected from that terrain. I wondered if there were any Scotsmen in the gathering and if they were fuming.
Others were unhappy with the newly installed King George. He’d been a compatriot when he was Regent, promising all sorts of things to his loyal coterie. All forgotten now. The man was a pig to his wife, who wasn’t a bad sort, was she? Her misfortune getting stuck with the boor, poor thing.
Most agreed that reforms needed to be made and George should behave better, but no solutions were presented. Grenville sent me a surreptitious glance, and I kept my expression neutral.
No one mentioned Mr. Pickett, Mr. Cudgeon the gunsmith, the Cato Street Conspiracy, or anything about assassinating the cabinet or overthrowing the king. There was general grumbling and much slurping of punch, and then the conversation turned to the latest pugilist bouts.
Grenville and I excused ourselves after a few hours of this. Some of the gentlemen had already begun to drift away, and we decided to drift with them.
Grenville went down the stairs ahead of me, saying he’d fetch Jackson. As I started to follow, a heavy hand landed on my shoulder, and a voice whispered in my ear.
“If you want to attend a true meeting, Captain, and find out about our Mr. Pickett, tell Mr. Grenville to go home without you.” A man who’d been quiet during the gathering now spoke to me in gravelly tones. “Come back here. I’ll wait.”
Chapter 18
When I stepped outside, I announced to Grenville I was ready to go home, and that Brewster and I would walk there. I disliked misleading Grenville, but I did not want the man who’d whispered to me to harm Grenville for knowing things he shouldn’t.
I’d already determined that Brewster would accompany me back to the meeting. I was not so rash as to go alone, and I noted that these men spoke openly in front of their servants. Brewster could wait outside if they refused to admit him.
“No need to walk,” Grenville said in response. “The night is turning beastly.” Rain had begun again, and the wind was cold. “Jackson will drop you at home.”
I could not argue without betraying myself, so I followed Grenville to the carriage. I knew full well the man who’d drawn me aside could be an enemy, but I did not think so. He’d sat through the meeting, sipping punch and watching the others in some derision.
I would not throw away an opportunity to learn something of relevance by being overcautious. It could be that the man could tell me nothing, and it would be a wasted errand. But such was the perils of investigating a crime.
Grenville planned to join Marianne at the theatre, but he saw no oddity in me going home while Donata remained out. This had become my habit, leaving my wife to enjoy herself to the small hours of the morning while I sought my bed. In any case, she was safer with Lady Aline and her legions of devoted servants than she would be with me at present.
Grenville bid me a cheery good night as I stepped down at South Audley Street. Brewster hopped off the back of the coach and joined me. I waited until Jackson had turned the corner into Mount Street before settling my coat more closely about me and heading for Piccadilly once more.
“Bloke who came at you on your own doorstep last night was one of His Nibs’,” Brewster announced as he fell into step with me.
“Was he?” I asked in surprise. “I didn’t recognize him.”
“One of the hangers-on who does odd jobs for him. His Nibs gives out those knives as a reward to those he’s pleased with. They’re good blades—cost a fair bit.”
“I will guess the man was taking Denis’s admonition for me to stay away from his business as leave to attack me.” With Denis now bidding me to aid him, I supposed I’d no longer have to worry about that assailant.
Brewster gave me a curt nod. “I had a word with him and explained why it hadn’t been a good idea.”
I was certain I knew what Brewster “having a word” involved. “There was no need for that.”
“There was need,” he grunted. “It’s me job, guv, to make sure coves know to leave you alone.”
I swung my walking stick, letting the sword rattle inside. “I believe, Brewster, that there are coves following us even as we speak.”
“I pegged ’em.” Brewster nodded without looking around. “Not sent by His Nibs this time. We could step into His Nibs’ house here until they grow tired of ye.” We’d reached Curzon Street, and Denis’s house was not far off our route.
“I don’t want to miss speaking with those who might know something useful,” I said. “Let us hope our followers are only curious about where we are going.”
