Page 37 of The Secrets of Lord Grayson Child
Cottesloe reappeared, bearing the silver coffeepot. He poured Gray a cup, then took up his customary position by the sideboard.
Izzy caught Gray’s eyes with a look of warning. Any words spoken before Cottesloe would find their way to her mother within hours.
Gray lowered the coffee cup. “I learned the names of several people in the photographs. Did you get any further with your inquiries?”
That, she could safely answer. “Mama, Marietta, and I had a quick look at the prints before we went to church. Marietta recognized a few faces, and after lunch, she and I strolled in the park, wracking our brains, then returned to pore over the photographs with Mama again. We’ve put names to most faces in the Hyde Park and Regent’s Park photographs, and a few of those in the museum scene, and we think we know two of the ladies on the edge of the London Bridge picture.”
He nodded. “When we reach the office and write everything down, we’ll have names for most of the members of the ton who feature.”
Izzy interpreted the comment as a statement of intent, namely that he was going to accompany her to the office and, presumably, continue by her side, at least as long as it suited him.
Normally, such high-handed interference in her day would provoke immediate resistance, but she wasn’t averse to him being at the office when the police returned.
“Indeed.” She drained her teacup. “Once you finish your coffee, we can go.”
The smile that curved his lips was more predatory than warming. He drained his cup, set it down, and waved. “Lead on.”
She rose and sent Cottesloe to summon the carriage, then walked with Gray to the front hall.
He helped her don her coat. “Your mother and sister?”
“Are rarely seen downstairs before eleven o’clock.” She settled her bonnet on her head.
He shrugged on his greatcoat. Cottesloe returned to hand him his hat and open the door.
She’d left her reticule on the hall table. She picked it up and led the way outside.
Fields, her coachman, stood beside the carriage, holding the reins and the open door.
She informed him, “Lord Child will be accompanying us this morning.”
Fields’s surprise showed only fleetingly, then he bowed to Gray. “Your lordship.”
Gray nodded back, grasped Izzy’s elbow, and steadied her up the carriage steps.
She felt the imprint of his long fingers through the two layers of fabric.
His hand slid away, and she gathered her skirts and sat, and he climbed into the small carriage and settled on the seat opposite. Fields closed the carriage door, and the body dipped as he climbed to the box.
Until that moment, she hadn’t felt claustrophobic in the carriage—hadn’t even noticed it was that small—but with Gray shut in with her, she felt as if air was in short supply.
Breathless. She felt breathless.
The carriage jerked into motion, then settled and rolled smoothly along.
They both had long legs and sat angled to accommodate each other in the cramped space, leaving his trousers brushing her skirts.
She drew in a constrained breath and was almost grateful when, his gaze on the passing streetscape, he said, “Therese, of course, knew only about the ton side of your life.” Shifting his gaze to her face, he said, “Tell me about Woburn Square.”
She debated spinning him some tale, but he was too intelligent to bamboozle. “A Mrs. Carruthers owns the house. She’s an elderly lady, the relict of a country squire and an old friend of Silas Barton, my brother’s grandfather-in-law.” She met Gray’s amber eyes and smiled. “Silas was an unexpected benefit of Julius’s marriage. He’s a self-made man—a wily, wise, and sound one—and he befriended us all. You might say that, in our time of need, Silas was a godsend.
“With respect toThe Crier, he’s acted more like a godfather to me. It was he who helped me acquire the printing works and rebuild what was an ailing business into the profitable enterprise it now is. Woburn Square was also Silas’s idea—he insisted that, if I was to go into the newspaper business, it was imperative that I conceal my identity, and using Mrs. Carruthers’s house as a staging post when going there and back ensures no one can readily follow me from the paper to Norfolk Crescent.”
Still smiling, she added, “In true Silas fashion, me dropping in on Mrs. Carruthers twice every workday—I almost always stop to exchange a few words while passing through the house—gives the old dear something to look forward to.” She refocused on Gray. “That gives you some idea of Silas’s character.”
Gray shifted restlessly. “Therese explained something of what happened with your family. I hadn’t realized, back then, that your father had left the family so deeply in debt.”
“For obvious reasons, we concealed as much of the impact as we could, but there was no avoiding the reality. We sailed very close to the rocks in the years immediately after Papa’s death. With James still in the nursery, Julius at Oxford, and Marietta in the schoolroom, it was left to Mama and me to cope as best we could, riding out the storm of creditors. That dragged on for several years. It turned out Papa had mortgaged everything he could to fund his gambling, and there really wasn’t anything left.”
