“Now we find ourselves in a place where we wish very much to reach out to one another again but are held back by confusion and fear,” he finished. “I know that Christina is afraid of what might happen should we announce our connection to society. Her reputation could be in danger, for that would be an easy way to try and separate us both, would it not?”
“And since you have no knowledge of who it might be working to separate you, you cannot be sure as to what lengths they might go to to injure you.” Lord Kinsley ran one hand over his chin. “I am sorry to hear of this, Coventry. I know how much pain you have endured, believing that she sent you that letter, and now… now to be in a place of confusion and uncertainty must be very difficult indeed.
“It is.” Looking back at Lord Wickton, Isaac saw his gaze darting this way and that around the room, just as they always did when he was in deep thought. There had come a relief in speaking to his friends about this heavy matter, as if sharing the weight of it had lifted part of it from his shoulders.
“You trust me, clearly.” Lord Wickton offered Isaac a small smile. “I am grateful for that, and I can assure you, I have done nothing at all to bring this about. I am not in any way involved, if that was something that you are considering.”
“Nor I!” Lord Kinsley shot to his feet, his eyes flaring. “You cannot think that I had any part of this, surely?”
Isaac waved his friend back down into his seat. “If I had any concern, I would not have spoken so openly, would I?” he suggested, as Lord Kinsley resumed his seat again, his eyes still rounded. “In fact, I would be grateful for your help.” Isaac did not speak of his hesitancy nor his whispering suspicions, thinking it best to set that aside. “I am trying to remember the other gentlemen who were there that evening. Do you remember any of them?” Rising quickly, he picked up the paper and read out the names. “Lord Kinsley, you were present, as were you, Lord Wickton. I also recall Lord Hogarth, but there were three others I cannot remember.”
Lord Wickton rubbed at the spot between his eyebrows, his eyes closing. “You want to know who they were for fear that one of them had something to do with these notes, yes?”
“Yes.”
Lord Wickton’s mouth tugged to one side for a long moment. “Lord Seaforth, I think?”
“Lord Pennington also,” Lord Kinsley put in, lifting his glass of now finished brandy in Isaac’s direction. “He was there.”
“And Lord Granton!” Isaac exclaimed, recalling the final gentleman present there that night. “Capital. I thank you, my friends. I hope now to – ”
“To do what?” Lord Kinsley frowned. “You are not going to question each of them, are you?”
Isaac shook his head. “No. In one way or another, I am going to make it clear to each of them that my attention has been caught by Miss Oldham. I will not speak of courtship nor of my affections, only that my interest has been piqued.”
“And from that, you hope that something will make itself known?” Lord Wickton glanced towards Lord Kinsley. “Lord Seaforth is not present in London, however. He is on his honeymoon, having wed Lady Ellen, the daughter of Lord Berwick.”
“Then I must speak to Lord Pennington and Lord Granton at the first,” Isaac responded, filling his lungs with air as a sense of purpose wrapped around him. “You will help me, will you not?”
Lord Kinsley and Lord Wickton shared a glance. “If there is more we can do aside from simply listening to you, then yes, by all means.” Lord Kinsley set his glass down. “I do not know what more we can do, however.”
Isaac smiled lightly. “Listening to the ache in my heart is more of a blessing than you realize, my friend.”
Lord Wickton lifted his glass. “Then I am glad to do it,” he responded, although no smile settled on his face as Lord Kinsley nodded in fervent agreement. “Let us hope you discover the culprit and can step into happiness with Christina once more.”
The following morning, Isaac was not at his writing desk but at White’s, seated in the leather chair nearest the bow window where the light was strongest and where conversation could be most easily overheard. He had not come for the papers, though he held one open before him with studied casualness. He had come for information.
Lord Granton arrived at half-past eleven, as Isaac had been told he would. The man moved with an easy confidence, greeting acquaintances as he crossed the room, before settling into a chair near the fire and calling for brandy.
Isaac waited three minutes before folding his paper and crossing the room.
"Lord Granton." He kept his tone light. "I trust I am not interrupting?"
Granton looked up with surprise that seemed genuine. "Not at all, Lord Coventry. Please, join me." He gestured to the adjacent chair. "I was hoping for pleasant company this morning."
Isaac sat. The leather creaked beneath him. "I wonder," he began, choosing his words with care, "if you might knowanything of Lord Pennington's situation. I ask only because I have been considering an investment and his name was mentioned in connection with a particular venture."
It was a lie — a calculated, deliberate lie.
Granton's expression shifted. "Pennington?" He swirled his brandy but did not drink. "Why do you ask me specifically?"
The question — pointed, deflecting — was not what Isaac had expected. "You are acquainted with him."
"I am." Granton studied Isaac over the rim of his glass with an attention that felt more like assessment than casual interest. "Between ourselves, Coventry — Pennington's finances are not what they once were. His father left matters in a poor state. The estate is mortgaged, and there were debts." He lowered his voice. "Significant debts." He paused, then glanced at Isaac with an expression that was almost pitying. "Four thousand pounds, at last reckoning. Perhaps more. The sort of sum that would require a very advantageous marriage to resolve."
Isaac kept his expression neutral. "I see. That is useful to know."
"I would not invest with a man whose own house is not in order." Granton paused, then added, with careful lightness: "Though I confess I feel some sympathy for him. We all carry burdens, do we not? And some of us are owed a good deal by those who carry them."
