CHAPTER7
A HAT MAKES A MAN
Earlier, in front of Weatherstone Manor
About to step up to the driver’s seat of the Castlewait coach, an idea had Parker pausing. If he waited for a few minutes, he might learn the identity of the hatless man he had passed.
He placed the Earl of Wilmington’s hat into the coach and made his way down the line of carriages, calling out greetings to other drivers as he took note of the gold crests on their coach doors. He recognized several as belonging to aristocrats who apparently preferred to play cards over dancing. It might be dawn before their owners took their leave of Weatherstone Manor.
“You still stargazing?” one of the older drivers chided.
“Always,” he replied, giving the driver of the Marquess of Reading’s coach a wave before he strolled on.
From the way the horses in front of the last coach were breathing and stomping, he knew the equipage had delivered the hatless man—none of the other beasts behaved as if they had been running in the last few mintes. He glanced up at the driver. “Haven’t see you ’afore,” he said. “Name’s Parker.”
“Thomas,” the young man replied, his expression sullen. “And I’m missing me bed, as are the ’orses.”
Parker gave an exaggerated shrug. “Your lordship still in the card parlor, too?” he asked, glancing back toward the house to be sure the hatless man hadn’t yet emerged.
Thomas scoffed. “I wish,” he replied on a huff. “Then Iwouldbe in me bed for the night.”
“What do you mean?” Parker asked, deciding the driver had to be the one who had brought the hatless man.
“The baron didn’t even attend the ball, but his business associate did. Left his hat behind,” the young driver remarked with a scoff. “Thought I was going to lose me job.”
“Over a hat?” Parker asked, pretending to study one of the horses.
“Over the coach not having anyone in it,” Thomas replied. Younger than most drivers, he displayed cheeks pocked with acne, and his top hat looked to be entirely too large for his head.
Parker gave a start. “Who’s your employer?” He glanced back towards the manor house, noting the front door had opened and a gentleman was making his exit.
“Kravets,” the young driver answered, saying the name as if it were a curse. “I leftexactlywhen I was supposed to,” he added, holding up a chronometer. “Can’t help it if some gent missed his ride to the baron’s house.”
Confused, Parker said, “If Lord Kravets didn’t attend the ball, and your other fare missed his ride...” He paused as it dawned on him exactly what the boy meant. “Then whose hat have you come back for?”
“Mine,” another voice said from behind him.
Parker whirled around to discover the hatless man from earlier approaching the coach. The short top hat Parker had returned only a few minutes before was on his head, and an expression of recognition was apparent on his face.
“You,” Elias Turnbridge said as he stopped in front of Parker.
“Me, sir?” Parker replied, pretending ignorance.
“Did you... did you just return a hat to the Weatherstone house a few minutes ago?” Elias pointed to the top hat on his head. “This one?”
Parker exchanged a quick glance with Thomas. “And what if I did?”
Momentarily speechless, Elias sighed. “Well, I would wish to thank you and to ask who might have ended up with it by accident,” he explained, attempting to sound reasonable. “So I could send a note of thanks,” he added. “I thought it lost, you see.”
Not recognizing the gentleman as someone who had seen attending Society events in the past, Parker furrowed a brow. He didn’t want to tell the man he had been sent by his mistress, nor did he want to say anything about Lord Wilmington. “Well, truth be told, sir, I found it out here. On the pavement,” he said, pointing in the direction from which he had come. “I like to stargaze, you see, and I nearly kicked it given the dark. I hope it’s not ruined, sir.”
His face falling at hearing Parker’s response, Elias merely shook his head. “It’s fine,” he said. He sighed again. Loudly.
“What is it, sir? What’s wrong?” Parker asked.
“I’ve lost a man,” Elias stated, rolling his eyes as he realized he had no news to share with Lord Kravets. The baron would be livid when he told him he didn’t know the whereabouts of Lord Wilmington.
“Sir?” Parker said, his eyes rounding in pretend shock.
