Page 31 of The Secrets of Lord Grayson Child
Corby and Tom exchanged glances, then Corby looked at Gray. “Young Bill would be happy to help out, we’re sure. He’s my other sister’s youngest lad.”
Corby came from a large family, each member of which, barring only Corby, seemed to have had multiple offspring. Gray arched his brows. “How old is Young Bill?”
Tom, who was all of twenty, replied, “Seventeen, my lord. A good lad, if a bit tall and gangly still.”
Corby nodded his agreement with this assessment.
“Very well. I’ll leave it to you both to organize Young Bill. I want him to keep watch over the Molyneaux Printing Works, which is also the office ofThe London Crier. It’s in Woburn Mews, just a bit up from Bernard Street.”
Tom nodded. “We’ll find it, my lord. It being Sunday tomorrow, will there be anyone there?”
“There shouldn’t be anyone inside, but it’s possible the police will have thought to put someone on watch. Unlikely, but Bill needs to bear that in mind and not let any other watcher spot him.”
Tom grinned. “I’ll explain that, my lord.”
Gray went on, “I’m not anticipating any action, but if Bill should see anyone attempting to break in, he should alert the nearest constable—he’ll probably find one in Woburn Place. The local police know that the premises in question was the scene of a murder yesterday, so they should act with all the promptness we might wish.”
“Indeed, my lord,” Corby said. “You can count on us to take care of that.”
Gray inclined his head. “Now, Tom, I want you to watch a house not far from the printing works—Number twenty, Woburn Square. It’s off the northwestern corner of Russell Square.”
“Aye—I know it, my lord,” Tom said.
“I want you to make sure you’re not noticed by any of the occupants of that house, and if the owner, a lady, Mrs. Molyneaux, goes out, I want you to trail her—hanging well back so she doesn’t spot you. I want you to keep her in sight and follow her wherever she goes, even if that means catching a hackney. However, if she goes anywhere, it’s likely to be to the local church or, possibly, the printing works, which she owns.” Gray focused on Tom. “If she does appear there, she’ll have a key to the door. Make sure Bill knows that and doesn’t raise any alarm.”
“Of course, my lord,” Tom said. “How will I know her?”
“She’s a trifle taller than average, a slender lady with dark hair. She’s a widow, so usually wears dark colors, and her customary bonnet is black silk. Wherever Mrs. Molyneaux goes, I need you to keep her in sight at all times and take note of anyone who approaches her, especially if she doesn’t appear to know them. I don’t believe she’s in any danger at the moment, but if, for instance, some man attempts to force her into a carriage or in any way harm her, you are to do whatever you can to keep her safe.”
Tom straightened to attention. “You can count on me, my lord. And Young Bill as well.”
“I’m sure I can.” Gray had Tom repeat his orders, then nodded and rose. “My thanks in advance to you and Young Bill.”
Both Corbys stepped aside as he made for the door. “Corby, let’s see about that packing.”
“Yes, my lord.” Corby fell in at Gray’s heels as he started up the stairs.
As Gray led the way to his bedroom, he sifted through the possibilities; as far as he could see, he’d covered every eventuality that he could.
Fifteen minutes later, with his greatcoat flapping about his top boots, he strode out of the house, climbed up to the box seat of his curricle, took the reins from Sam, and set his grays trotting for the Great North Road.
Chapter 5
After catching a few hours’ sleep at Ancaster Park and spending half an hour with his parents, Gray rode his hunter across the snowy fields to Alverton Priory.
Despite his ten-year absence, the Priory staff hadn’t forgotten him; he left his horse in the stable and entered the house via the side door, then made his way to the front hall, where he found Edwards, the butler.
He greeted the man, asked for the earl and countess, and was directed to the family parlor.
Gray walked quietly into the parlor and grinned at the sight of Devlin, Earl of Alverton, and his countess, Therese, stars in the firmament of the haut ton, sitting on the carpet before a roaring fire and playing a complicated battle of toy soldiers with all three of their youthful brood.
Gray drank in the sight and inwardly acknowledged that the comfort of home and family inherent in the scene embodied the essence of what, ultimately, he wanted to secure for himself.
Then the boys—Spencer and Rupert—saw him. With shouts of “Lord Grayson!” they leapt to their feet and came pelting across to seize his hands and tow him farther into the room.
Laughing, he allowed them to lead him to where, abandoning the game, Devlin and Therese were getting to their feet, little Horry, their daughter, in Devlin’s arms.
Horry ducked her head under Devlin’s chin and smiled shyly at Gray; she’d yet to decide if he was an acceptable person, which suited him, as he had no idea how to respond to a female of her age.
