“I suppose I could have.” I tried to shrug, and flinched at my soreness. “But I’d have been restless and pacing until they sent me word of the outcome, which would have done my injuries no good.”
“You find any excuse to be in the thick of things, Gabriel.”
I rested my hand on hers where it lay on the blanket. “I am afraid I’m not the sort of man who will sit tamely in a chair perusing his newspapers for the rest of his existence. Reading about life instead of experiencing it.”
“Good.” Donata’s word held warmth.
We ceased speaking then, which was to my satisfaction.
The next morning, I received a missive from Denis that politely requested my presence in his home directly after breakfast.
I was too stiff and aching after my battle to walk, so I finished my repast and let Barnstable call the carriage for the short distance to Curzon Street. Brewster, who’d accompanied me home and spent the night, came with me.
Before departing, I’d written a note to Mr. Taylor, apologizing for abandoning him yesterday and explaining that Hawes was resting from an injury. I also told him that Pickett’s true killer had been caught—though I imagined the entire sordid tale would soon be revealed in the newspapers.
Bartholomew had told me he’d lost Taylor in the crowd when we were chasing Hawes and never saw him again. I speculated that Mr. Taylor had gone back to the Arlington to drink brandy and wonder what had become of us.
I finished the letter asking if Taylor would be willing to meet me to ride in Hyde Park the following morning, if he was still curious about the whole affair. Taylor had a hard-headed sense I’d liked, and I hoped we could speak again.
I was kept waiting when I reached the Curzon Street house, even though I’d arrived in answer to Denis’s summons. Eventually Gibbons fetched me from the reception room and guided me up the stairs to Denis’s study.
Gibbons had restored himself to his butler’s persona, erasing the man who’d helped me against Arthur’s thugs. In keeping with the early hour, he set a cup of coffee on the small table instead of brandy and departed.
Denis continued to write on the paper before him, his pen scratching in the silence. I took a noisy sip of my coffee, pretending not to care that he didn’t deign to notice me.
After about a quarter hour of this, Denis finally laid down his pen.
“The matter of Mr. Pickett was resolved satisfactorily?” he asked, as though he did not already know.
“It has been,” I answered. “Pomeroy sent me word this morning that Langley broke down before the magistrate and confessed, though Langley maintains he never meant to kill Pickett and was striking out to defend himself in a fight.” I shrugged. “Langley has no criminal past. The jury might believe him.”
“I wish him luck.”
I heard no compassion in Denis’s voice, but I could not blame him. Langley had nearly sent him to the gallows for a crime he did not commit. Denis had won free, of course, but it had been a close-run thing. A disappointed Spendlove had made it clear he was still keeping a sharp eye on Denis.
“What will you do about Arthur?” I asked. “He has a hideout not far from your doorstep, and he’s not above letting his ruffians attack those in your sphere.”
“You have no cause to worry about Mr. Arthur and his men,” Denis said calmly. “I will see to that.”
The finality of his declaration told me Arthur had better look over his shoulder from now on.
Denis’s gaze strayed to the letter he’d finished writing, and my patience ran out.
“Is that why you brought me here?” I demanded. “To ask me a question you already knew the answer to?”
Denis slid the letter aside. “Not at all. I wished to tell you that the business with the young woman you call Lady has also concluded satisfactorily.”
My irritation fled, and I sat up with interest. “You found her daughter?”
“I did. As I told you, Redding’s widow sold the business, pocketed the proceeds, and departed London. I now know that she has leased a cottage in a village near Epsom, in Surrey, and her children are with her.”
“Vicky as well? Is the girl all right?”
Denis gave me a nod. “Miss Redding appears to be in good health. From all accounts, she is treated as a member of the family and not a servant, nor given any sort of lesser status. I have arranged for Lady to take a short journey to Epsom so she can see her daughter, if only from afar.”
I breathed out in gratification. “Thank you. It was kind of you do to this.”
Denis’s brows rose a fraction. “It was a business arrangement. I made these inquiries for you while you made inquiries about Pickett’s murder on my behalf.”
