“Any... guests... making a fuss out front?” Elias hedged.
Pulling his head back so his chin doubled, the rather tall servant seemed to think on it a moment before he glanced about and then leaned in closer. “A young lady was caught being kissed by that Lord JW behind a hedgerow in the gardens out back,” he hoarsely whispered. “But I haven’t heard about anything amiss out front,” he added in a quiet voice.
Elias gave a start. “Lord JW?” he repeated in a whisper. “When... when was this?”
“Oh, it’s been hours ago, sir. Probably around midnight, if not ’afore.” His eyes suddenly widened. “It was definitely ’afore midnight. Supper hadn’t yet been served.” The servant grinned, apparently pleased with his powers of deduction.
Elias furrowed his brows. Given the amount of sleeping powder he had dumped into Lord Wilmington’s punch, he was sure the man could not have awakened, made his way out of a coach and into the house, descended the stairs to the ballroom, flirted with a young lady, and escorted her to the Weatherstone gardens for a tryst—despite his reputation as a rake.
Besides, Elias had been standing near the open French doors to the garden for nearly an hourafterhe put Wilmington into the coach. With the number of guests in the ballroom—the Weatherstone ball was always a crush—he needed the fresh air. Surely he would have seen Wilmington if the earl had exited by way of the French doors.
“You mentioned you were here to claim your hat, sir?” the footman prompted.
Pulled from his reverie, Elias nodded. “That one right there on the end,” he said, nodding to his beaver.
The footman blinked again. “Oy. If you had come any sooner, it wouldn’t have been here for you, sir.”
Elias frowned. “Whatever do you mean?”
Aware he might be speaking ill of one of his fellow footmen, the servant lowered his voice and said, “It was mistakenly given to another gentleman, sir, but it’s been returned and exchanged for the correct one.” He lifted the hat between two sets of fingers and held it out to Elias. “It doesn’t appear to have suffered, sir. You’ll want to check the label just to be sure it is yours.”
Turning the hat over, Elias confirmed it was the beaver he had purchased in New Bond Street only the week before. “When… when was it returned?” he asked. “And by whom?”
The footman had already begun searching for another guest’s coat but said, “Oh, only a moment ago, sir. By a driver. Don’t know his name, though.”
Elias inhaled sharply. “Do you know whose driver?”
Appearing to think on it for a moment, the footman shook his head. “Can’t say as I’ve ever seen ’im ’afore.”
Tossing the footman a coin, Elias rushed out of the house in search of the driver he had passed on his way into the house.
