Hetty blinked. “But Your Grace! I cannot follow him. Guy trusts me.”
Genevieve’s fine brows lowered a frown. “What of that? IfGeeis in trouble, we must help him.”
“But what trouble would he be in?” Hetty considered she’d done enough to unnerve him yesterday. “Surely with Vincent dead, it is at an end. What if he sees us? He will besoangry.”
“Leave that to me.” Genevieve nodded sagely. “I will handleGee.”
“Are you sure?” Hetty found herself unable to resist another woman who preferred action to talk.
“I am. Send the maid for your things. My carriage waits outside.”
Hetty informed her aunt she was riding in the park with the duchess.
When they were assisted inside the coach, Genevieve gave instructions for Berkley Square, and they moved off down the street at a fast clip. They arrived within minutes, for it was but a pleasant walk from her aunt’s house. Hetty swallowed, her throat dry. She could visualize Guy’s scowl when he caught sight of them.
They left the groom to walk the horses in Berkley Street and followed the graceful curve of the footpath to where the row of mansions faced onto the park. Unsure quite what to do next, she and Genevieve huddled down behind a tree. Minutes passed.
“He has a two o’clock engagement, so he must leave soon,” Hetty said, half wishing to give the idea up.
Another five minutes passed. They were discussing whether to leave when the door to number eight opened. Genevieve pulled Hetty down the servants’ steps of the house opposite. Through the railings, they watched Guy, dressed in a brown coat and fawn trousers, walk along the pavement swinging his cane.
“It is as I suspected. He calls on someone,” Genevieve hissed. Guy reached the corner and disappeared behind a stone wall.
“Is that a bad thing?” Hetty began to question the duchess’ sanity as the women hurried back to the carriage.
“Drive around the corner and follow the man in the brown coat,” the duchess instructed the startled coachman. “Don’t lose him whatever you do, but don’t make us conspicuous. I shall reward you if you succeed,” she added.
With eager agility, the footman jumped onto the box, and the coachman moved the horses on.
They caught sight of Guy in Berkley Street. He turned left into New Bond Street. They followed and arrived to find him hailing a hackney.
The coach trailed behind at a discreet pace as the hackney wove through the London streets. It pulled up in Cavendish Square, and Guy alighted. He looked neither left nor right but climbed the steps of an impressive residence to knock at the door. Minutes later, a butler admitted him.
“This square bears your name, mademoiselle. Surely it’s a family connection?”
“A distant one,” Hetty said.
“I wonder who my brother might visit here,” Genevieve said. “Do you know?”
“No.” Hetty studied the four-storied townhouse. “It might be best if we get out and let the coachman walk the horses.”
“Make enquiries as to who lives here, Jacque,” Genevieve said to the groom.
“Oui,ma dame.”
He hurried to knock at the servants’ entrance of the neighboring house.
Moments later, he returned. “A Corsican gentleman,ma dame. Count Forney.”
Genevieve shrugged. “I do not know him.”
A lady entered the pretty park at the square’s center and with a smile, left the gate open for them. Hetty and Genevieve chose a seat facing the house and opened their parasols. Hetty hoped it would afford them some disguise if Guy should walk past them.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Guy was relievedwhen Count Forney’s butler admitted him. At least he wouldn’t fall at the first fence. And with time to consider, he was eager to succeed in his mission.
He was shown into the grand salon where the count greeted him in surprise. “I did not expect to see you again, Lord Fortescue.”
