Page 30 of The Secrets of Lord Grayson Child
Izzy wasn’t sure whether to encourage or discourage him. Who was it he planned to ask? Would they know of her?
But he’d been back in the country for only a few months, and it was January. It was highly unlikely he’d made the acquaintance of any of the significant matrons of the ton as yet. “Is this a crony of yours?”
“So to speak. They live near Ancaster Park.”
His parents’ property. “Well, we definitely need the information.” She just hoped he didn’t mention her, and really, why would he, at least not in the sense of questioning her identity? As long as he referred to her as Mrs. Molyneaux, all would be well. She nodded. “Very well. You see what you can learn of the people in the photographs, and I’ll do the same.”
He rose, and together, they sorted the photographs into three sets. He reached for his greatcoat, shrugged it on, then picked up one set and slid it into the coat’s pocket. Meanwhile, she locked the second set in the central drawer of the desk, then picked up the last stack and eased it into her reticule. “Right.” She drew the reticule’s strings tight, pushed back from the desk, and rose. “You search, I’ll search, and we’ll pool what each of us learns.”
She glanced at him as she went to fetch her coat. “When do you think you’ll be back?”
He followed, lifted the coat from her hands, and held it for her. “Late Sunday. I’ll meet you here on Monday morning, and we can pool our findings and see where that leads us.”
She allowed him to settle the coat on her shoulders, then after sliding the strings of her reticule over her wrist, put on her bonnet. She waved him through the doorway, then followed and drew the door shut.
Automatically, she glanced down the workshop, her gaze coming to rest on the darkroom door. “I daresay Baines will return on Monday, and I would dearly like to have something with which to distract him when he does.”
Turning to Gray, she caught the smile that flashed across his face, then he glanced at her, reassurance in his eyes. “Don’t worry. We’ll find something.”
She wished she could be as confident.
They left the printing works, and she allowed him to walk her “home” to Woburn Square. They didn’t exchange words along the way, but there was comfort and support in their companionable silence. She was increasingly aware of the degree of reassurance she drew simply from his presence, and the relief she felt in knowing he would be with her on Monday, when the police came calling, was almost seductive.
As they walked along the boundary of Russell Square, she told herself that a large part of the allure of having him beside her was simply that—that it had been such a long time since she’d shared her day-to-day experiences with anyone. From that realization, it was a short step to warning herself not to get too accustomed to him being by her side; doubtless, once the killer was caught, he would be satisfied and move on…perhaps even sooner if clues proved thin on the ground and he lost interest.
She shouldn’t count on having him there, a shield of sorts against the world. While he might be intent on helping her out of this mess, she shouldn’t forget that his reason for doing so was to ensure that the news of the murder replaced and distracted all attention from her proposed exposé.
As they turned up the short street to Woburn Square, she inwardly frowned. She might not have been acquainted with Grayson Child for the past decade, yet burying the exposé seemed an exceedingly flimsy motive for his continued efforts on her behalf, his unabating insistence on protecting her.
That left her pondering the unsettling question of what else was keeping him pacing so determinedly beside her.
After seeing Izzy into the house in Woburn Square, Gray walked back to Woburn Place and hailed a hackney to take him into Mayfair.
He walked into his lodgings in Jermyn Street just after five o’clock.
His gentleman’s gentleman, Corby—who had instantly given notice and returned to Gray’s service as soon as Gray reappeared and hunted him down—came hurrying from the nether regions to take his greatcoat. “Good evening, my lord. I trust your day went well?”
“Well enough.” Gray surrendered the coat. “At the very least, it was interesting, apropos of which, I’ll be leaving for Ancaster within the hour.”
“Indeed, my lord. For how long should I pack?”
That was one of the things Gray appreciated about Corby; he was the epitome of unflappable. “Just one night. I’ll be back tomorrow, albeit quite late. Tell Sam to fetch the curricle and the grays from the stable and tell him he’ll be going with me.”
“At once, my lord.” Corby turned away as Gray headed for the small parlor.
Then Gray halted and spoke to Corby’s departing back. “Corby, send Tom in. I have a job for him, and you’d better come and hear of it, too.”
Corby looked faintly intrigued. “Yes, my lord. We’ll be with you in a moment.”
Gray went in and sat in his favorite chair by the fireplace. A cheery blaze warmed the room, reminding him of how cold it would be on the drive north to his father’s principal estate. At least it would be a fairly direct run, more or less straight up the Great North Road.
While he was away, however…
Two minutes later, Corby opened the door and came in, followed by Tom, Corby’s nephew. Tom, a more strapping version of his uncle, closed the door, then took up station beside Corby and nodded a greeting to Gray, then grinned, dispelling his until-then-bland expression. “You wished to see me, my lord?”
“Indeed, Tom. I intend to head to Ancaster Park shortly and won’t be back until tomorrow night. However, there’s a matter I’d like you to take care of while I’m away—say from seven o’clock tomorrow morning to seven o’clock in the evening.” Gray paused, eyes narrowing in thought, then grimaced. “Actually, I need two of you—I have two different places I want watched.”
He looked inquiringly at Corby and Tom. “Do you know of any likely lad who wouldn’t mind earning a few shillings keeping watch on a different place over the same hours?”
