Page 34 of The Secrets of Lord Grayson Child
Gray tapped his coat pocket. “We had the assistant make three sets of prints. Izzy has one set and is consulting her mother and sister. Meanwhile, I thought I’d come and consult you.”
Therese’s face lit. “An excellent notion!” She looked at Devlin. “Shall we return to the parlor?”
They did. Therese sat in the center of the old sofa, with Devlin on her left. Gray drew out the stack of seven prints and handed them to Therese, then pulled out a small notebook and pencil and sat on her other side.
Therese flicked rapidly through the prints, then returned to study the first closely.
Gray glanced across; it was the photograph of the riders in Hyde Park.
“That’s Lord Compton.” Therese pointed to one rider. “And that’s Frederick Ashfield.”
Between them, she and Devlin named almost everyone in the Hyde Park and Regent’s Park photographs; Therese even identified the two nursemaids pushing perambulators in Regent’s Park, at least in the sense of which household they worked for.
Of the other four scenes, they picked out two gentlemen in the scene of the museum’s forecourt, one of whom was tooling his carriage along the road, and in the Fleet Street photograph, Devlin was fairly certain the well-dressed gentleman standing before the coffeehouse and speaking to another neatly dressed but portly individual was something to do with some government office, but couldn’t remember more.
Neither Devlin nor Therese recognized any of the people in the picture of the building near the new station or the view from London Bridge.
While Therese looked over the photographs again, Devlin sat back.
Gray noticed his old friend was frowning at the photographs.
Then Devlin raised his gaze and, over Therese, met Gray’s eyes. “You know Drake Varisey, don’t you? Winchelsea?”
When, puzzled, Gray nodded, Devlin continued, “He’s taken up where his father left off.”
“Wolverstone?” Gray clarified.
“Yes. And I suspect”—Devlin shared a glance with Therese—“that Drake might be interested in this murder of yours.”
Therese nodded decisively. “Even if it’s not something in his bailiwick, Drake will want to know of it, and he wields a lot of clout with the authorities.”
We might need that.The thought popped into Gray’s head. A second later, he caught himself and wondered at that “we.”
Glancing at Therese, Devlin smiled. “And if Therese’s reaction on learning that Isadora is the proprietor ofThe London Crieris anything to judge by, Louisa—Louisa Cynster who is now Drake’s wife—will fall on your neck and drag you inside and avidly listen to all you have to say, which means Drake will as well.”
Therese added, “If anyone can guess what in these photographs might have moved someone to murder, it’ll be Drake.”
Gray dipped his head in agreement. “I’ll contact him. It can’t hurt.” He accepted the photographs from Therese and slipped them into his pocket.
He glanced at her, then ventured, “While investigating the murder, I’m obviously going to be associating with Isadora, with whom, you might recall, I was acquainted before I left the country. What can you tell me about her life now?”
He was absolutely certain that, despite the years, Therese would remember exactly how close he and Izzy had been. In truth, it hadn’t been only Isadora who had been expecting him to propose.
When Therese arched her brows, he acerbically added, “I don’t want to find myself stumbling over further misconceptions.”
She grinned. “I suppose I have to thank you for the news about Isadora owningThe Crier—and please do assure her that neither Devlin nor I will breathe a word of that to anyone.”
He nodded and looked at her pointedly.
Still grinning, she settled into the cushions and waved airily. “Fire away. What do you want to know?”
Voicing his questions would expose his interest. Nevertheless, he knew of no better source for the sort of information he needed to know.
Over the next twenty minutes, he confirmed that, despite a veritable horde of suitors who had swarmed about Isadora after he had left, she’d never come close to encouraging, let alone entertaining, an offer. “That drove the grandes dames quite to the brink,” Therese said. “Even when the truth of the family’s finances started to leak out, on birth alone, Isadora still ranked as a highly eligible young lady.”
Therese explained how, in the way such things happened, word had slowly seeped through the ton that the late earl had all but bankrupted the family. “The situation became obvious when they were forced to sell the Mayfair house.” She frowned. “That must have been the year after you left.”
When Gray inclined his head, she continued, “Sometime after that, Isadora’s brother, Julius, who had succeeded to the title—I believe he’s younger than her by a year or so—contracted a marriage with the granddaughter of a wealthy millowner.”
