after day. We knew. Once I had no one to command me, I rather blundered about. I must cease.”
“I do understand. When I returned from the Peninsula, I was sunk in melancholia. Wounded, with little but my half-pay packet, knowing no one … that is why I grew interested in helping others when the magistrates could do little.”
“Convivial of you. Ah well. I will hit upon something. Please do not suggest I marry, as every other person does. A married man must support a wife, and we have already exhausted the topic.”
“Right then.” I capped my ink bottle and tossed the pen to its tray. “We will work tirelessly in the next few days to clear your name and then you can return to deciding what to do with the rest of your life.”
“Done.” Eden lifted his cup in a toast, and I did likewise.
I PLANNED to spend another agreeable evening indoors with Donata, but Eden, who’d departed some time after our brandy and coffee, sent me word that he’d run Mr. Fitzgerald to earth at White’s. Fitzgerald had been pleased to meet Eden again and invited him, and by extension, me, to dine with him at the hallowed club.
I did not like to leave Donata alone, but she told me to go, that she’d enjoy the hours to herself. She never had many, and I know sometimes she found me hopelessly underfoot.
I kissed her, had Bartholomew dress me in one of my better suits, and departed.
Brewster accompanied me in the hackney south to St. James’s Street, where we had begun our day, though this time we stopped shy of Jermyn Street, in front of the imposing edifice of White’s.
“I’ll be waiting,” Brewster told me as I prepared to enter. “If you need me, shout out of a window.”
“I hope to be safe from Creasey’s men here,” I told him. “I doubt they’d be admitted. The doorman is formidable.”
“You joke, as per usual, but you never know. His Nibs has plenty of acquaintances inside White’s, and Creasey probably does to. Don’t let any of them stick a knife in your back.”
With that, he gave me a scowling nod and faded into the shadows.
I realized Brewster gave me good advice. I would take care to whom I spoke.
I was not a member of this bastion of upper-class gentlemen, but I had entered its hallowed halls as a guest of Grenville. Eden met me on the doorstep, and together we went inside. We were greeted by the doorman, who was indeed formidable—none would pass who did not belong. When Eden told him our names, the doorman gave us over to a butler, who led us upstairs and through a vast hall to a dining room.
The elegant room boasted a ceiling of gilded plaster leaves surrounding a large chandelier of glittering crystals. A fireplace graced one wall, the fire built high. A large dining table reposed in the center of the room with smaller tables off to the sides.
The butler led us to one of these private tables where a round-stomached man in a finely tailored suit waited. He vaulted to his feet as we entered the otherwise empty room.
“Major. Thank you so much for joining me.” The man’s voice was smooth, his smile warm. His face and hands were brown from the Caribbean sunshine, his portly build attesting to his love of meals, but his suit was as well-made as any Grenville wore. His hair, going to gray, had been slicked back with pomade, his watch chain gleamed gold, and the stickpin in his lapel bore a winking emerald.
“Captain Lacey,” Orlando Fitzgerald said, shaking my hand. “Well met. I am so pleased you could come along. I love meeting new people. And a friend of Grenville’s no less.”
His final words told me how Eden had persuaded Fitzgerald to include me in the invitation.
We were seated, and the efficient butler brought red wine, sugar, and a bowl to set in front of Fitzgerald. While he proceeded to make these into punch, I accepted a glass of dry white hock to drink unadulterated. Eden took some of the punch.
“One grows used to sweet concoctions in the tropics,” Eden told me apologetically. “It takes the sting out of the torpid weather and the biting insects.”
Fitzgerald laughed heartily. “Indeed. Rum is best when mixed with orange, lime, and a dash of sugar. Delightful. To your good health, sir.”
He raised his glass to me and took a fulsome gulp. Eden and I sipped more modestly.
“Pity about Warrilow,”