“I don’t like to read. I’d rather daydream and come up with my own stories. Napoleon and I go on many adventures that way.” She turned and looked at the dog, who had curled up by the fireplace. His only reaction was to move his pert ears.
“Then it will be a wonderful idea for you to write a story about all the exploits you two will have.”
Josephine walked closer to her. “And you really think the duke will let us play in his garden? He won’t make us stay inside all the time like you do?”
“I’m certainly going to ask him if you may go outside any time you wish.”
“All right, Essie,” Josephine said in the same cheerful voice she’d used when she’d first entered the room. “I guess I’ll go.”
Esmeralda’s body relaxed and she smiled. Now she could start to make plans.
Chapter 7
Don’t ask anyone to do something you are not willing to do yourself.
MISSMAMIEFORTESCUE’SDO’SANDDON’TSFORCHAPERONES, GOVERNESSES, TUTORS,ANDNURSES
It was a hell of a dark night for Griffin to be huddled in the shadows watching a man’s back door. Griffin wore his hat low on his forehead and his cloak high around his neck. Still, the icy chill of damp air seeped into his bones, making him wish he’d thought to stuff a flask of brandy into his pocket.
He’d moved slowly between dark unfamiliar houses in search of the one he was looking for. Shifting banks of fog had whirled and scattered before him as he had walked. Many were the times as a boy, and later as a young man, when his father didn’t know he was out, Griffin had made his way through the lighted streets of Mayfair in the cold dead of night. He knew every house, yew hedge, and garden along the way. This quiet area of London was new to him. Clouds shielded any glow of light from the moon and stars but even in the pitch-darkness Griffin could see the houses were smaller and less affluent. Lamplights, cobblestone lanes, and garden walls were nowhere to be found.
His first thought had been to approach the man at White’s to find out what he knew. In mulling over all the possibilities of what might be said between the two, he’d decided it was best to see him in private. Sir Welby might be blind, but the barkeep wasn’t. Griffin planned to get the information he wanted from him.
Time passed slowly.
The air grew colder. Leaves rustled noisily as wind whistled softly around the corner of the house and whipped at Griffin’s cloak, forcing him to wrap it tighter about his shoulders. From somewhere on another street he heard the lonely baying of a hound and was reminded that the captivating Miss Swift would be bringing a dog with her to his house. He coughed out a soft laugh. He’d gone to great lengths to obtain her.
Thoughts of her made him smile. She knew how to play her hand better than any man he’d dealt with. She’d held him off until he was willing to give her anything she wanted just to hear her say yes. The arrangement he’d made with her might be unorthodox, but he didn’t expect it would cause any problems even though his aunt Evelyn had strongly disagreed with his decision to hire Miss Swift.
When Griffin heard the faint rattle of harness and wheels and the clipping sound of a horse’s hooves on a hard-packed street in the distance, he straightened. At last he heard the shuffling of feet and was soon rewarded with the figure of a man hunched against the biting cold walking up to the doorway he’d been watching for the better part of two hours.
Griffin’s footsteps were silent as he stepped out of the shadows and said, “Holsey.”
“Arrah,” the old man moaned as he jumped back and threw up his hands as if to thwart an attack.
Hellfire!
He hadn’t meant to scare the barkeep senseless. There wasn’t much light but he could see the man was shivering from fright. “It’s Griffin, Holsey, I mean you no harm.”
“Your Grace.” The man gave him a low bow and in a shaking voice murmured, “I thought you were a footpad out to rob me of my purse. What are you doing out here this hour of morning?”
“I’ve come to see you about an important matter. I didn’t want to talk to you at White’s, and it couldn’t wait.”
“Ah, important you say?” He wiped his mouth with the back of his woolen-gloved hand. “Did you want to come inside? I can stoke the fire and put a kettle on for you.”
“No. I don’t want to keep you and this won’t take long.”
“What can I do for you?”
“I understand you were working the taproom last night when Sir Welby was there. The time was between seven and nine. I want to know who else was in there at that time.”
“I don’t know, Your Grace,” the barkeep said without hesitation.
Griffin frowned and shifted his stance. “Think back, Holsey. It wasn’t tonight but last night. You know Sir Welby always sits at the table nearest the door so everyone will speak to him when they enter and leave. You had to have seen him, served him.”
“I don’t remember him being there.” Holsey’s voice was shaky again. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his nose. “I don’t know who was there.”
Griffin hadn’t expected the bartender to be so unequivocal about his answer.
