But finally he settled his affairs, bade his brothers farewell, and made his way out of the city, across the river. Traffic was surprisingly heavy on the road, and it was evening by the time he reached The Duck and Dog on the southernmost outskirts of London. Reluctantly he told his man, Bragg, they would stop for the night here. He had wished to be farther along, but he was hungry, and at least tomorrow they could be off at first light.
After a hearty dinner and an excellent bottle of wine, he took out the pernicious letters once more. Two had been sent from Bath and one from London. The fourth postmark was smudged beyond reading, but as it was the first and oldest letter, Gerard set it aside. Why would they be sent from different towns? The blackmailer must travel, fairly often, between London and Bath. The first letter was dated almost a year ago. The second letter, bearing a Bath postmark, was dated eight months ago; the third, mailed from London, almost six months ago; and the fourth, again from Bath, was just over seven weeks old. Did that mean another letter would soon follow? Or would Durham’s death change the blackmailer’s calculations?
Gerard leaned back in the chair and thought. Properly, the blackmailer would assume his demands should be directed to Charlie, unless the fellow knew anything at all about their family. Charlie might be the heir, but anyone familiar with the de Laceys would know that appealing to Edward would yield swifter and surer results. Naturally in public Edward deferred to Charlie, but in private, Edward was the unquestioned authority behind the Durham name. Perhaps the next letter would ask for money again. Perhaps it would demand something completely new, given the changed circumstances. Gerard pulled off his boots and slouched deeper into the armchair, letting all the mysteries run laps around his brain in search of an answer.
He had just begun to doze off when someone tapped at the door. It was a light, quick knock-knock-knock, almost as if the person were testing the wood rather than requesting admittance. Gerard stayed slumped in his chair, his eyes unwilling to open just yet. Perhaps the intruder would go away, and he could drift back into the pleasant, half-asleep state he’d been in. But the knock sounded again, faster and a little harder. With a sigh, he pushed himself up from the surprisingly comfortable armchair. The blackmail letters he tucked back into his saddlebag. He’d read them enough to know every word by heart even when he wasn’t too tired to see straight. He stretched his arms and rolled his head, feeling the muscles in his back tighten and twinge. Sleeping in the chair was probably a bad idea. Sleeping in the bed sounded pretty damned good, though.
Snapping his braces back over his shoulders, he padded across the room in stocking feet and pulled open the door. To his surprise, it wasn’t the innkeeper nor even a chambermaid, but a woman of moderately advanced age, thin and short, a pinched expression on her weathered face. She wore all black except for the ivory lace cap on her gray head. Someone’s hired companion, or the mistress of the local girls’ school. Either that, or Newgate had begun hiring female warders. Gerard couldn’t think of a single reason for a woman like her to be at his door, particularly since he hadn’t told anyone except his brothers where he was going. It put him on guard. “Good evening,” he said, keeping a firm grip on the door.
“Good evening, Captain.” Her faded green eyes flickered up and down him, clearly unimpressed. “You are Captain Lord Gerard de Lacey, are you not?”
Gerard’s gaze darted left, then right, but she was alone in the corridor. “Yes.”
She gave a small nod. “My mistress will see you.”
His eyebrows went up. “Will she, indeed? And who, pray, is your mistress?”
“A lady.”
“What is her name?”
Her lips pursed up as if she were trying to swallow them. “Will you come, or will you not?”
Gerard met her glower with a shrug. “Not. Good night, madam.”
“I cannot say her name,” hissed the strange woman as he moved to close the door. “But she must see you. I beg of you, sir, please.”
“Why can’t you tell me?” He crossed his arms. “If she wishes to see me, she won’t be able to conceal herself for long.”
“She does not wish to conceal herself from you,” muttered the woman with a ferocious scowl.