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“Nothing at all, except for the fact that you departed at an ungodly early hour, before I could properly brush it,” Basil replied with clear annoyance. “This one is ready for you, my lord, and much more suitable for daywear in Town.”

With a clenched jaw, Hugh tugged off his greatcoat, then his morning coat and tossed both aside without care of where they landed. Rivers scrambled to catch them, and Basil whisked forward to help his employer into the tailcoat.

“Fetch your own coat and hat, Basil,” Hugh said as he waved away his valet’s attempt to fasten the buttons. “I’ve had an idea. I believe you can be of assistance to me this morning.”

Basil blanched. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” Hugh eyed Audrey. “It seems everyone is pitching in. Meet Sir and me outside. Norris is coming around for us.”

As Sir disappeared through the open front door, and Basil went to the coat room sulking, Rivers approached with Hugh’s greatcoat and settled it around his shoulders.

Without reaching for Audrey again, Hugh merely nodded. “I’ll see you later this afternoon.”

He left her with those cool departing words, and Audrey spent the next few hours pushing aside the knowledge that not only had she started a new argument with Hugh, but she’d also wounded him.

By one o’clock, the acceptable hour to begin making social calls, she had eaten a few bites of a late breakfast and sent Rivers to Alfred Place with a calling card. He’d nosed around until he found the Earl and Countess of Tenney’s residence and had returned with a reply from the countess, welcoming her to visit.

Audrey’s anticipation and anxiety increased as Carrigan drove her to the address. Rivers had also returned from Alfred Place with a bit more information about the family. Apparently, Lady Susan was the eldest daughter of the earl and countess. That Audrey was calling on a family of higher peerage rank than she and Hugh didn’t truly bother her, but she had found in the past year that there were some people who would never overlook Hugh’s less-than-pristine history, not only as a Bow Street principal agent, but also as the scandal-laden ward of Hugh’s father, the late Viscount Neatham.

It had been proven beyond a doubt that Hugh had not ruined his half-sister, as he’d been accused of many years ago—an accusation that had seen him ejected from any good society at all. And it had also been proven in the courts that Hugh wasn’t a by-blow as had been thought; he was the true heir to the Neatham title, not his half-brother Bartholomew. But for some members of the ton, even the legitimate transfer of the title to Hugh had not eradicated what many saw as his working-class stink. It infuriated Audrey, and she only hoped the earl and countess were not snobs of that order.

Carrigan stopped outside the north crescent of Alfred Place and indicated the residence Rivers had discovered earlier. Audrey approached the front door, which opened before she could attempt to knock. A footman bowed and invited her in.

“Her ladyship awaits you in the drawing room, Viscountess,” he said as he took her coat and gloves. He then led her to a ground-floor room beyond the stairs.

Audrey’s calling card had been sent specifically to Lady Susan, but she’d suspected that the countess would be present with her daughter during the call. It was a good thing, too, since the news of her friend’s death was sure to be distressing. However, when Audrey entered the room, only one woman was there to greet her.

“Welcome, your ladyship,” the countess said with a fixed smile. She remained seated, her eyes probing as they combed over Audrey’s figure. Her eyebrow arched at the prominence of her middle. “We were pleased to receive your card earlier. I am afraid, however, that my daughter is indisposed.”

Audrey followed the countess’s gesture toward a seat on the settee across from her own. Indisposed could mean that the young woman was ill. Or it could also mean that she was disinclined to meet with their caller. As the countess’s smile did not reach her eyes, leaving them cool and unreceptive, Audrey presumed it to be the latter.

“I see,” she replied as she took her seat. This wasn’t as she’d planned. She had expected to speak to Penelope’s friend, not the countess. “I am aware my call is quite unexpected, Lady Tenney. I do wish it was a social call, but I’m afraid I bring sad news.”

No emotion crossed the countess’s face as she replied, “We have already heard the tragic news about Miss Harwood.”

Audrey blinked, surprised. “Have you indeed?”

“Indeed,” Lady Tenney echoed. “Mrs. Jessamin Harwood, dear Penelope’s sister-in-law, sent word around late this morning. She wanted Susan to hear the news directly from her, and not from some…other people.”

There was no ignoring the disdain in the countess’s tone, especially as it was accompanied by a haughty sniff.

“As is only correct,” Audrey forced herself to reply.

“Imagine my surprise when Mrs. Harwood divulged that Viscount Neatham was investigating the incident,” Lady Tenney continued with false wonder.

It seemed the countess was, after all, one of the snobs Audrey had been concerned about. She girded herself for more of the woman’s contempt.

“Sir Gabriel Poston asked for the viscount’s assistance. My husband is quite skilled in these matters.”

“I am aware of his past endeavors, Lady Neatham, but surely, there is no reason for him to resort to his old skills, as you call them.”

“A young woman has been murdered,” Audrey said bluntly, her patience beginning to wear thin. “Considering where she was discovered⁠—”

“Victor Messinger’s carriage house, if Mrs. Harwood informed me correctly.”

Audrey nodded before explaining, “Sir Gabriel and Mr. Messinger wished for someone who could handle this kind of inquiry among the ton and gentry.”

“How very fortunate we are that a former Bow Street Runner is among our number,” she said, a twitch of amusement on her lips. The lady did not even attempt to stifle her sarcasm. Her gloves were off, so to speak, and so Audrey threw hers off as well.