He had no response to that, because it was true, although his friends had always been warm and courteous toward her. But it was also true that she could not face her brother’s culpability. “I shall put you up at Grillon’s Hotel in Albemarle Street. It’s an excellent hotel and you are welcome to remain there under my aegis until your boat sails.”
She nodded, as tears filled her eyes. “I don’t understand my brother at all. I must confess I never did. Ivo was always wild.”
“He appeared to have lost his reason, Greta.” Andrew could not tell her why Ivo wished to kill him, or about the murderous group he intended to join.
She narrowed her eyes. “If you’d treated me as you had in Vienna, dancing attendance on me instead of disappearing off to London, it would not have come to this.”
“Marriage would have made both of us unhappy. I prefer country-life and you are happier in town.”
She shrugged. “The country is an utter bore. And it will make you one.”
They continued on in silence.
After Andrew deposited Greta at the hotel, he made his way to Whitehall. When he relayed what Jenny had told him a flurry of activity ensued.
Some hours later, as he sat with Castlereagh in White’s library, news reached them that the culprits lair had been located and the three Germans shot while trying to escape. A list of their victims was found, and Andrew’s name was at the top.
It had shaken both him and Castlereagh who begged him to remain in London to celebrate with him at the king’s ball, but Andrew wanted only to return to Castlebridge. To his children. And Jenny. And the unfinished business between them. These dreadful events had gifted him with the knowledge, that in the end, love was all that mattered.
