Perversely, he found himself ridiculously glad that he would see her again today after all. For some reason, she made his world brighter.
“Kelburn House,” he told the driver. “Park Lane.”
***
Promenading in the park at the traditionally fashionable hour had seemed to Grizelda the perfect cover for meeting an acquaintance “by chance.” On the other hand, the park was likely to be full of people who knew her family, so she could hardly go unaccompanied.
Before she changed her dress, she scribbled a note to her married friend Annabelle and sent a footman scurrying across to Brooke Street to deliver it.
When she had changed her dress to a full, cambric gown embroidered with lavender, over several wide petticoats, she brushed out and repinned her hair in a still plain but less severe style.
Without warning, a pang for Nancy hit her. To have lost everything, and in such a way… She must not lose sight of that. Her excitement should be for discovering the truth, not for encountering the intriguing Mr. Tizsa again. But if they went hand in hand… well, she would rather like him for a friend. He wasn’t like anyone else she had ever met. His words were rarely serious, and yet his eyes were never anything else.
Blinking away the vision, she stood, donned the matching mantle and the new hat her sister Azalea had given her. Then, she picked up the leash, much to Vicky’s delight.
Half an hour later, she and Annabelle made their way toward Hyde Park on foot, Vicky alternately tugging at the leash and trying to hide among Grizelda’s skirts.
“So, am I assisting at an assignation?” Annabelle asked hopefully.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Griz, who had expected just such a comment at some point in the expedition. “We’re meeting someone who is helping me find out what happened to Nancy.”
Annabelle frowned. “Yes, that was terrible, horrible. But Griz, finding her does not make you responsible. The police will catch whoever did this horrible thing. It isn’t up to you.”
It is. She blinked several times to dispel the emotion.
“Griz—”
“Look, it’s quite busy,” Griz interrupted brightly, nodding ahead. They entered the park by the Grosvenor Gate and turned down the path toward the Serpentine.
Annabelle said nothing for some time, then, “I suppose I understand and am even willing to help. But Griz, have you considered, this could be extremely dangerous?”
“That is why I have Mr. Tizsa,” Griz said.
“Hmm. I look forward to making his acquaintance, but frankly, one of your footmen would make a better bodyguard.”
“Mr. Tizsa is a soldier.”
Annabelle squared her shoulders as though ready to do battle, which amused Griz and caused a rush of affection for her old friend.
“How are the Timothies?” Griz asked, covering Annabelle’s husband and son in one question, and for some time was able to lose herself in the happy anecdotes of her friend’s household.
However, behind everything, she was aware of a faint tension, a worry that Dragan would not come. She had sensed a distance in him when she had suggested the meeting, as though he regretted their alliance.
“I have to say,” Annabelle broke off to comment as they approached the Exhibition Hall, “this is the most extraordinary building I have ever seen. I thought it would look ridiculous, but somehow it doesn’t.”
It was, indeed, a spectacular structure of steel and so much glass that the newspapers had dubbed it the Crystal Palace. It was to be a temporary building only, to house the Great Exhibition due to open next month. A few bits of scaffolding remained, but it was more or less ready.
“If the exhibits are half as fun as this edifice,” Griz remarked, “I shall enjoy coming here.”
“Timothy says there will be so much to see that we will need to come several times to take it all in.”
Grizelda’s gaze was darting around the passers-by. “I think I shall buy a season ticket so that I can drop in whenever I… Ah, there he is.” The last words spilled from her as she caught sight of him. Carelessly, shabbily elegant, he held his hat in his hand, his head tipped up to examine the structure before him. The spring sunshine glinted on his raven hair, emphasizing the sharp, sculpted lines of his face. Her heart gave a funny little leap.
“That is your Mr. Tizsa?” Annabelle hissed. “Oh, my dear, he may not be respectable, but he is…gorgeous!”