He barely heard most of what she said. “She has left you? How unfortunate.”
“It could not be helped. Her mother needed her. She had to depart quickly too. I am distraught and at a loss without her.”
“Perhaps she could come for a few hours at least and fix the papers.”
“That is impossible. She is gone from town with no idea of when, if ever, she will be able to return. No, I must seek another but I do not look forward to it.”
Gone from town. “I am sure you will find someone who almost will do.” He bowed and took his leave of her. He left and mounted his horse.
No longer here. Gone from town. She had not told him. She had not explained that family duties took her away.
She had not told him because he had no right to know. Because, in truth, he did not matter.
* * *
I will be leaving London tomorrow. Please call at three today if you can.
Gabriel received the note from Harry while he ate breakfast three mornings after seeing Lady Farnsworth.It was unlike his brother to summon him. Presumably Harry did not want to ride through Mayfair and risk seeing Emilia.
It was possible Stratton or Brentworth had put him up to this as part of a plot to distract him from his disappointment. If so, he would tell them he was surviving that well enough on his own. He no longer drank himself into oblivion. He had left the house often, groomed and ducal, and thrown himself into garnering support for those bills.
Lady Farnsworth’s advice had born fruit, much to his annoyance. He would have to thank her now if the bills passed. The notion of doing so hardly improved his spirits.
That afternoon, he dismounted in front of Harry’s house, remembering his visit of mercy not so long ago. Perhaps it was fitting that he spend an hour with his brother today. They could commiserate on the hell women put men through and shake their heads over feminine inconstancy and whims.
Harry himself came to the door. “Gabe, good of you to come.”
“I would not let you leave town without seeing you.”
“Yes, of course. Only that is not really why I asked you to call. I confess that I engaged in a bit of subterfuge. I have need of some advice. Or rather a friend of mine does.”
“Not about women, I hope. I currently question everything I thought I ever knew about them.”
“What an odd thing to say. Have you had your own defeat?”
“Most notably. However, if I can offer advice, I will do so.”
“It is not to do with a woman. Come with me and I will explain all.”
He followed Harry into the library. Another man sat there. A nervous one, from the way he jumped to his feet upon their arrival. Of middling height and skinny as a reed, the man’s short red curls already receded up his forehead. His large, aquiline nose dominated a long, pale face. Nature had conspired to make him appear twenty years Harry’s senior but Gabriel doubted this man was older than thirty.
Introductions indicated the visitor was Thomas Stillwell. “Stillwell is with the British Museum,” Harry explained. “He and I have known each other for five years. He allows me to muck about in the storage rooms there. He has a serious problem.”
“Put simply, we have had a theft,” Stillwell blurted. “No one knows yet outside the museum. I confided in Harry and he said you may have some ideas about how we should go forward. As you can imagine, the situation is delicate.”
Gabriel looked at Harry, since he could not imagine anything of the kind.
“There is concern that someone employed there will be accused of either the theft itself, or of negligence,” Harry explained. “Of interest to me is that this is two thefts in the same neighborhood. I think it may be the same person.”
“How did this one occur?”
“Boldly. Most boldly,” Stillwell exclaimed. “The brooch was in a locked case. Whoever took it broke the lock—picked it, actually, and helped himself. It must have been one of the visitors. What kind of man does that with such a high chance of discovery? To just stand there and work the lock while others milled around?”
“That is a very different kind of theft than the one at Sir Malcolm’s house,” Gabriel said to Harry.
“Different but equally bold. I have learned that entry to Sir Malcolm’s house was through his dressing room window on the second level. The thief must have scaled the wall.”
Through a window.
