Chapter Eleven
A fter Lady Edith’s duet, their hostess coaxed Alicia to sing while Lady Edith again played accompaniment. Lady Kettering had been so impressed with Alicia’s singing that she’d asked her to sing yet another song. After that, the lady escorted Alicia around the room so everyone could congratulate her on her voice.
“What an evening!” After they returned home several hours later, Alicia beamed at him as they mounted the main staircase to retire to their bedchambers. “I’m not sure I will be able to sleep.”
As for himself, he’d fallen asleep quite easily and slept through the night. Waking refreshed, he realized he felt more energetic than he had in a long time. Even with frequent exercise, he often felt sluggish in the morning.
Although, with the amount of light coming through the crack in the curtains of the single window in his bedchamber, he didn’t think it was still morning. A glance at the carriage clock on the mantle informed him it was nearly noon.
There was a knock at his bedchamber door.
“Come!”
Branson entered with a tray. “I took the liberty of bringing you some sustenance, my lord. It’s not like you to rise so late.”
“Very good.” He climbed from the bed in his small clothes and reached for the banyan at the end of the four-poster bed. After putting on the silk robe, he walked to his writing table, where the valet had deposited the tray. “Thank you, Branson. I’ll ring for you when I’m ready to dress.”
Nathaniel sat down and poured himself a cup of coffee. After a fortifying sip, he placed the cup back on its saucer and devoured the meal on the tray.
He would have to wait for Cecil to update him on any information Bones may have found out about the abduction of their missing veteran. Well rested, the last thing he wanted to do was remain idle. Lady Louisa had mentioned at the rout that Charlotte was feeling under the weather; he wouldn’t call on Ashford.
Nathaniel shouldn’t be in a pleasant mood with a veteran missing, but he believed the disappearance must be a misunderstanding. The former seaman was not a logical target for kidnappers. Perhaps the man owed a moneylender? If so, he was sure Mr. Bones would uncover that information.
When he had dressed and went downstairs, it was to find Cecil waiting for him in the formal parlor.
“You have too many rooms,” the viscount said with a shake of his head. “I feel like I’m at the ancestral pile in Kettering. Although your home is a lot less gloomy.”
“Why are you here?” he asked, taking a seat on a sopha matching the one Cecil sat on.
“Bones has discovered no further information about the carriage seen when Mr. Fleet went missing. He is currently infiltrating Sir Henry’s household to ascertain if his servants know anything about the veteran’s disappearance.”
“You drove here from Curzon Street merely to tell me that?” He frowned
Cecil shook his head. “Charlotte tells me I need to spend more time with my friends, so here I am.”
“Did she? When was this?”
“At her dinner party. I’m at loose ends today and thought perhaps we could find an activity to do together.”
Cecil looked a bit uncomfortable at the suggestion. The man must value Charlotte’s friendship to want to please her.
He grinned. “What activity do you suggest?”
“Let us take a walk to Manton’s Shooting Gallery and try our hand at smashing wafers.” Cecil rose to his feet. “It’s a fine day out.”
He could think of no reason not to go along with his friend. The shooting gallery at 25 Davies Street was a short five-minute walk from Grosvenor Square.
“That sounds like a splendid idea. You’re always telling me what a crack shot you are. Now you can prove it.”