Elias Turnbridge gave his head a shake. For a moment, he was sure he was about to learn the whereabouts of Lord Wilmington. He could barely hide his disappointment at learning his hat had been found on the pavement. “My friend was terribly drunk, you see, and in my haste to get him out of the house and into the coach, I apparently put him in the wrong coach.” He glanced up at Thomas, who just then realized he was supposed to get down to open the coach door for the gentleman. “I’m surprised someone hasn’t reported a stowaway,” Elias added as his brows furrowed. He glanced down the line of coaches. “Unless...”
The young man jumped to the pavement next to Parker. “Sorry, sir, about all of it.” He moved to open the door.
Elias held up a gloved hand to the young driver. “Start checking inside these coaches,” he ordered. “My drunk friend may be in one of them.” Although his expression conveyed finding the missing gentleman was still possible, Elias had already given up hope. After what the footman had said about Lord JW kissing a young lady behind a hedgerow in the gardens, he was fairly sure Lord JW and Lord Wilmington were two different people.
Parker exchanged a glance with the younger driver, immediately aware that Elias would not find the drunk friend in any of them. “I should get back to her ladyship’s coach,” Parker said as he gave the gentleman a slight bow. Although he desperately wanted to return to the Castlewait townhouse with the information he had learned, he knew he couldn’t leave directly. Both the young driver and his passenger believed he was merely waiting on his mistress. “But I can help your driver look if you’d like,” he offered.
“Your help would be most welcome,” Elias stated.
“We can see to this, sir,” Thomas said.
“All right,” Elias replied. He climbed into the coach as Thomas and Parker made their way to the next coach in line.
Parker called up to Lord Reading’s driver. “Any chance you have a stowaway in your coach?”
The older driver scoffed. “Not a chance. Been sitting here all night,” he replied. “But you can look if you must.”
Thomas opened the door and peeked in, whistling his appreciation at seeing the interior of the marquess’ coach. He closed the door and they moved on to the next in line.
“This gent that was drunk... who was he?” Parker asked as they made their way.
Pausing, Thomas shrugged. “Near as I can tell, some bloke who’s friends with Mr. Turnbridge.”
“Turnbridge is that gentleman back there?”
Thomas nodded. “What I can’t sort is how he knew the man was going to be drunk and exactly when,” he remarked as they looked into the next coach. He shut the door. “I was just told to drive to the baron’s house no later than half-past-ten. So I did.”
Parker had no trouble pretending interest in what the young driver had to say. “Was Mr. Turnbridge in the coach at the time?”
Stopping to consider the query, Thomas frowned. “No, he wasn’t.”
“Well, didn’t you just bring him here from the baron’s house?” Parker asked, now confused.
“I did.”
“Well, how did he get to the baron’s house if he wasn’t in the coach when you left at half-past-ten?”
Thomas waved a gloved hand. “Oh, he didn’t get to the baron’s house until much later,” he explained. “Arrived in a hackney… mayhap an hour ago.”
Parker gave a start. Turnbridge had apparently been instructed to send his drunk friend in Lord Kravets’ coach and then remain at the ball. “So... when you arrived at the baron’s house with the empty coach, what happened exactly?”
Thomas threw up his hands in despair. “When Lord Kravets opened the door and discovered the coach was empty, he was fit to be tied. Kept asking me where Lord Waterford...Waddleston...”
“Wilmington?” Parker offered.
“Yeah, Wilmington. He was supposed to be drunk, in the coach.”
Parker grimaced. “Any idea why?” he asked before he called up to the next driver. “Can we look inside your coach? Like to see how the rich folk ride.”
The driver looked up from a book he was reading by the light of a coach lantern. “Fine by me.”
“Accordin’ to the servants, his lordship thinks his daughter was ruint by Lord Wilmington, so he’s going to make ’im marry her,” Thomas said as he opened the coach door. The scent of floral perfume spilled out, which had Thomas coughing and Parker sniffing in delight.
“Well, I can tell you, it wasn’t Lord Wilmington doing the ruining of Lord Kravets’ daughter,” Parker remarked dryly. “He’s a right proper gentleman.”
Thomas gave a start. “Well, if it weren’t ’im, who was it?”
Parker furrowed his brows as he shut the coach door. “Well, now that’s the question, isn’t it?”
