It had already been opened by the butler, who bid him welcome and took his hat and gloves before leading him through the house. They exited onto the terrace where Harlowe was sitting, a massive dog that looked more like a wolf curled at his feet.
The dog lifted its head and peered up at Peter, its body shifting forward as though preparing to pounce. Harlowe dropped a hand to its large head and ruffled its mottled fur. “Easy now, Major. It’s only Kendrick.”
The dog maintained a wary look even as it pulled back. Harlowe gestured toward a vacant bamboo armchair, and Peter slid into it, happy to have a table between himself and Major.
“Coffee?” Harlowe asked. Peter nodded and the butler promised to have a maid fetch him an extra cup. He departed and Harlowe sent his gaze out across the garden. “It’s marvelous weather for early September. I savor each day I can sit out here without catching a chill.”
Peter looked toward the path coming out of the forest beyond the lawn and followed it to a series of fences, an ornamental bridge, and the staggered columns that arced toward Clearview’s roofline. Thestructure appeared like nothing more than a curious folly, but having seen it in practice, Peter knew it was so much more.
“I’m sure your charges are hoping the mild climate will last well into winter.” He couldn’t imagine what it would be like for them to complete the obstacle course in freezing weather as he suspected they would.
“Of course they do, but they also realize the value of training under various conditions. Besides, I’d hardly be doing a very good job if they can’t withstand a bit of rain and wind. Ice is a different matter. They train indoors when the ground is slippery.”
So the man did show some concern for their safety. Peter had wondered after watching them sprint along the columns and disappear onto the roof that one time. A fall from such a great height could get them killed.
A maid arrived with the extra cup and filled it before departing once more. Peter took a sip. Although Harlowe believed the climate comfortable, Peter found the air a bit too cool. The coffee helped warm him.
“I’ve come directly from Carlton House,” he said, deciding to broach his reason for visiting. “The Prince Regent summoned me and Sir Nigel. Lord Carver was there too. He demanded to know why it was taking Bow Street so long to find the evidence needed to lock Croft away.”
Harlowe shifted in his chair, angling his body so he could face Peter more directly. He scratched Major behind one ear. The beast closed its eyes and pressed upagainst his hand while slowly thumping his tale on the granite tiles.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing. I was still wracking my brain for an answer that didn’t involve passing blame to Sir Nigel when Carver demanded that he provide an explanation for the delay.” Peter relayed what Sir Nigel had told the viscount, and Harlowe frowned.
“Was he convincing?”
“I didn’t think so. Especially not when bearing in mind another conversation I had with him a few weeks ago. He specifically told me the order to leave Croft in peace had come from the highest authority. I naturally believed the Prince Regent had been advised by someone close to him.”
“A man like Carver could have had enough sway.”
“Agreed, but he and the prince both appeared to be in the dark on this matter.”
“Someone else is pulling the strings then.” Harlowe didn’t sound as surprised as Peter would have expected. He wondered at that. More so when Harlowe said, “No sense in speculating who might have forced Sir Nigel’s hand, with their attempt to control the situation thwarted. They’ll have to step back now if they’re to avoid drawing attention to themselves.”
“I suppose so,” Peter said, not quite understanding Harlowe’s disinterest in figuring out who the person might be.
“We’ve more important matters to consider.” Areasonable enough explanation of sorts. “Did Carver give you a deadline?”
“No, but he spoke with a sense of urgency. I assume he’d like the matter handled as swiftly as possible, which is why I came here at once. My most recent conversation with Mrs. Croft did not go well, besides which I fear the risk my interaction with her might pose to the mission.”
Harlowe nodded. “The last thing we want is for Croft to become suspicious of her. Leave it with me, Kendrick. I’ll issue the order. Now that she’s comfortably settled in her new home, it shouldn’t take long for her to acquire the proof we need. I’ve no doubt she already knows where it’s kept.”
It was late afternoon by the time Dorian Harlowe reached Number 5 Portman Square. When the butler there informed him that Samantha and her husband were both out, he elected to leave her a message, informing her that he’d come to Town on some errands and inviting her to meet him at Gunter’s, if she were able. He’d be there from five until six, he told the butler.
Choosing to walk, Dorian stopped by a book shop and an optician on his way to the tea shop. The visits resulted in the purchase of Sir Walter Scott’s latest novel and a new pair of spectacles.
He arrived at Gunter’s at precisely five o’clock and procured a table at the back of the shop. It wasnearing six by the time Samantha arrived. Thankfully, she was alone. Dorian set the novel he’d started reading aside on a vacant chair and stood in order to greet her.
“Would you like some cake? An ice, perhaps?”
She glanced at the remains of his frozen mousse. “Any good?”
“The best I’ve ever had.”
A smile curved her lips and she immediately ordered the same thing for herself, along with some tea. They sat and she folded her hands in her lap before dropping a glance to the empty chair standing between them. “I’ve been meaning to get ahold of that story myself. How is it?”
“Entertaining. You’re welcome to borrow it once I’ve finished.”
