The Custom House Murders (Captain Lacey Mysteries #15) - Ashley Gardner Page 0,94

anything, send word to me, and I will do all I can.”

I gazed at him in frank astonishment. “I thought you preferred to keep all your acquaintance under your firm thumb.”

“I do. But I also know when a debt has been paid and exceeded. The advantage is to you.” Denis paused. “But never ask me to play chess. I am exceedingly bad at it.”

I looked for amusement in his eyes but found none. If he made a joke, he would not let me know.

Denis bade me a formal good morning, then ascended into his carriage once more.

“I’ll be off, meself,” Brewster said. “Now that Creasey is dust, I’ll tell Em to come home. Would be fine to see the old girl.”

“I may still have need of your help,” I said. “I have not yet cleared Eden, and he is becoming even more evasive.” I gazed up at Donata’s home that stretched high above me. “I will let him go for the moment. Now, I will rest—or perhaps hunt for somewhere else to live. My wife is not happy with me.”

“She’ll come ’round,” Brewster said with confidence. “Now that the little lordship is safely home, and all is well.”

“That remains to be seen. Donata was correct when she blamed me for this.”

“If you don’t mind me saying so, your lady is much more sensible than you. She’ll work things out.” Brewster shrugged. “You can always go back to your old rooms. Lucky you kept them, innit?”

With that cheerful observation, he trudged away up South Audley Street to make for St. Giles and home.

I entered the house. Barnstable had been caught in his shirtsleeves, polishing silver in the dining room with the footmen. He now stood in the hall, mouth open, holding a rag in a gloved hand.

Donata was busily giving him orders to have fires laid in the bedchambers and a cot made up in her room for Peter. Mrs. McGowan had remained in Gloucestershire, and Donata did not want Peter sleeping in the nursery alone.

“Can I sleep in Papa’s chamber?” Peter asked. “His snoring don’t bother me.”

The footmen, who’d lined up behind Barnstable as he struggled into his frock coat, barely hid smiles. Donata glanced from her hopeful son to me, her gaze frosty.

“Very well. Barnstable, please have the cot readied in the captain’s chamber.”

She stalked upstairs, leaving the rest of us behind, back straight, poise unaltered.

Grenville touched my sleeve. “Why don’t you clean yourself up, Lacey, while Peter and I find some grub? Mind if we invade the kitchen, Barnstable? We’re too hungry to wait to be served, I think.”

Peter brightened at this chance to go down to the kitchen with the great Mr. Grenville. I knew Barnstable and the cook would minister to them both, and I truly was appallingly dirty.

I left them to it and ascended to my bedchamber. A footman brought me hot water and helped me peel off my clothes. Fortunately, some of my belongings had been left here, and I was able to dress in a fresh suit.

I was exhausted, my eyes grating, my legs too shaky to support me. I had kept hold of the walking stick Brewster had taken from Denis’s house, but I would ask Barnstable to return it when we made once more for Gloucestershire.

If we did. Donata might simply remove herself and Peter to Oxfordshire on the morrow and fetch Anne, uncaring what I did with myself.

I moved through my dressing room and entered Donata’s bedchamber, lightly tapping on her door before I did so.

I found her flung across the bed, sobbing.

“Love.” I sank next to my wife, my hand on her hair. I did not know if she wanted me to touch her, but I could not leave her distraught without offering comfort. “Peter’s home. He’s safe.”

Donata continued to weep. I leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll go, if you like,” I whispered.

Donata started up, nearly colliding with me, then she threw her arms around me. “Do not dare leave me. Do not dare.”

“No.” I soothed her. “I’ll stay.” Something inside me unclenched, though I knew we were a long way from reconciliation. “I agree that I am to blame. I have allowed Denis to pull me into his machinations, when I should have torn myself from him long ago, no matter what he threatened.”

Donata raised her head and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Even with her face splotchy and tear-streaked, she was beautiful. “You are not to blame. If