Chapter 33
Thirty-three
Grey
“This is the most dimwitted thing I’ve ever allowed myself to do.” Grey held still so Eleanor could straighten his cravat. He despised formal clothes. “Why does it matter if I look perfect if I am only to change once we arrive?”
“You will need to greet your hosts. It is generous of them to allow us the use of their hounds and soldiers.” His blamed assistant stepped back and nodded approvingly.
She was wearing a yellow slip of a gown that looked very well on her.
He ought to demand that she dress for dinner all the time, except he would forget to eat while wondering where she’d hidden that creamy bosom this past year.
Besides, she had no wardrobe to hold a host of gowns, even if he bought them for her, which he was tempted to do.
No matter how cold this rotten summer was, he was tired of seeing her in shapeless black wool.
It was akin to covering a Rembrandt with a charcoal sketch.
“I cannot imagine how our culprits will miss a hound patrol.” Grey greeted Andrew as he came down looking respectable in his made-over frockcoat, with gold buttons most likely clipped from some gentleman’s castoffs.
“And you say I am the one without imagination,” Eleanor scoffed. “The manor’s men are already stationed along the river road. When the carriage departs, they’ll move closer under cover of the commotion. Mr. Bradford’s yard is the difficult part.”
“I stationed one of the guards in the privy,” Andrew said in amusement. “It is a good thing it is newly dug. He’ll leave the door open and be able to see anyone approaching from that direction.”
“The pair of you would make good criminals.” Grey was happy to have them on his side. He’d always been alone, which had made it easier to leave a situation than fight back.
He was still apprehensive about any skirmish with Eleanor involved, but he had little authority over her. He could order her to stay at the manor. He couldn’t tie her up and lock her in.
He’d far rather have her where he could see her—and he was rather enjoying her enthusiasm for fighting back. He still thought he or his book was the more likely target than poor Comfrey. Stupid thieves shouldn’t be too dangerous.
Captain Huntley had ordered his barouche around, adding to the gossip that should now have spread even to the careless artists. If Black Dickie Bradford attended the tavern, then he’d be apprised of their invitation as well.
Grey was fairly certain nothing would come of this nonsense, but it appealed to his frustration and desire for action. Even if they couldn’t prove any thief they caught was Comfrey’s killer, it would be one less scoundrel off the street.
The housekeeper had gone home, as was her habit.
When the carriage arrived, it had the top down.
Grey assisted Eleanor into the forward-facing seat, where her maid excitedly joined her.
Young Silas slid their valise into the luggage rack and took the postilion position with a grin.
Miss Fields happily took the rear-facing seat, eager to see her friends in the manor kitchen.
Andrew sat beside the driver, leaving Grey to sit beside the cook and study their twilight surroundings for Hunt’s hidden guards.
A stranger in slouch cap strolled down the lane in front of the house, not unusual since a few locals lived nearby.
Grey thought he detected a silhouette on the stone wall bordering the yard, but the heavy shrubbery cast shadows, and the figure blended in.
Another pair of strangers appeared to be coming up from the river, carrying fishing poles.
Grey hoped if they were guards, they had better weapons than that.
At the manor, a stableboy ran out to take the carriage. The cook and lady’s maid excitedly hurried for the service entrance in the rear.
A footman carried the valise containing their change of clothing into the manor’s carriage entrance. Eleanor gripped Grey’s arm and waited for her brother’s slower progress before they followed the valise. The twins went together and, apparently, they went where Grey did.
Looking more elegant than Grey had ever seen them, the siblings did their best not to stare as they strolled down the entrance hall leading to what once would have been a grand ballroom and was now a sewing manufactory.
Past the ballroom was the central corridor of the original fortress, a once dark and dreary passage now illuminated with gas lamps, lighting the majestic white marble staircase to the upper floors.
A grandiose floor clock on the landing struck seven as they arrived.
Clare Huntley and Cousin Thea were just descending, decked out in their silks and laces. Thea scowled at him.
Clare hurriedly ran down the last few stairs to take Eleanor’s hands. “Miss Leonard, welcome! I want you to feel free to come and go here as needed. We have discussed my ulterior motives. I hope you will join us for dinner.”
Letting her flimsy shawl fall down to her elbows, Eleanor curtsied and shook her chestnut curls. “No, I fear we are only using you as a screen to cover our clandestine deeds.”
Studying this newly sophisticated version of his assistant, Grey almost missed the point of Clare’s laughter. He was brought back to the moment when their hostess turned to Andrew, welcoming him as well. “You are too handsome to go unnoticed. Surely you will stay and entertain us?”
Accustomed to being acknowledged first, Grey refrained from growling, appreciating that their hostess was putting the twins at ease.
He wasn’t entirely certain of the necessity since they were both openly studying their hostess and surroundings.
The educated Leonards had the ability to fit in anywhere, he was starting to understand—and respect.
So he glared back at his cousin. “I thought you told Mrs. Huntley our plans.”
Thea shrugged her bare shoulders. “I see no reason why you or your assistants should be involved. You could stay here, as normal people might. Let pirates tear Bradford House apart.”
His dratted cousin knew Grey preferred a simple existence, not one where he must be reminded of a position and responsibilities he never sought. Besides, he could be endangering infants simply by stopping here.
“Thieves have had years to tear apart the house.” His complacent assistant intervened before Grey could formulate a cutting response.
“We are curious as to why they have chosen now to cause trouble. Is it the professor? His book? Or did the arrival of new people bring interest that wasn’t here before? ”
“That doesn’t mean you must go haring off without your dinner.” His cousin could be as acerbic as Grey. “I’m sure Hunt and Rafe have the place surrounded.”
“They do,” Andrew replied, as imperturbable as his sister. “But the bailiff is unlikely to recognize an intruder who isn’t local. We fear an outsider is giving orders to people desperate for a little coin. We want to catch the ones giving orders. That takes a wider net.”
Grey shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. He was starting to enjoy the intervention. “We ate earlier. Miss Fields is quite creative with our improper hours. Now, if you will lead us to rooms where we might change. . . You are welcome to play spy along with us.”
Thea almost looked as if she’d like to, but she refrained. Clare Huntley signaled a footman, explained what was needed, and bid them good luck.
Grey didn’t believe anything would come of the evening, but he seriously disliked sitting about, waiting to be attacked.
Now that he had his own army, he wished to be the aggressor for a change.
Besides, roaming dark streets at night was just the sort of thing he enjoyed when the book was giving him trouble.
Bringing his assistants with him, one female, the other hobbled. . . was more problematic. Endangering others was definitely not the sort of thing he was inclined to do. He enjoyed their companionship, admittedly. If they were merely strolling down the street, taking the air, he’d be delighted.
But when they met at the service stairs as planned, Grey had fourth and fifth thoughts about the wisdom of this plan.
Eleanor no longer looked like a gentleman, even though she was garbed in the same dreadful coat, waistcoat, and linen that she’d worn to Harrowby. Grey simply could not erase the earlier image of her in fetching muslin. She was female and shouldn’t be engaged in dangerous expeditions.
He removed a cloak from an assortment hanging on the wall. “Put it on.” She frowned but did as ordered.
And he was asking too much of Andrew to be traipsing about on that foot. How would he escape if he was attacked?
This was why he shouldn’t be responsible for anyone other than himself. He was a selfish, thoughtless creature of habit with no ability to foresee consequences.
“This idea is ill-advised,” he decided. “Leave the law to those better equipped. We haven’t a pistol between us. If the soldiers catch someone, they can bring them here. If they don’t. . .”
Andrew raised his walking stick, pushed a button, and produced a blade. “I have a horse waiting, if that is your concern, sir. I can simply be a passerby, trotting down the lane. I’ve found a vacant lot from which I can watch.”
With an almost balletic twirl, Eleanor swept her own walking stick under her arm in a casual stance, then, in a move too swift to follow, gripped it in the middle with the brass knob in a strike position.
“We have been roaming city streets on our own for years, sir. We couldn’t afford maids and footmen to accompany us. ”
Grey couldn’t have swung that stick better himself. But things happened to people around him. . .
Alone, they might be safe. It was a village, not a city full of pickpockets and worse. With him. . . They were better off separating.
He frowned, revealed the small sword under his cloak, and gestured for the stairs to the service door.
“I will take the footpath down the front hill, to the brook, around behind the physician’s cottage, to the river.
I want to see if river thieves linger on that bridge.
” That should keep him safely from his assistants, who would be surrounded by Rafe’s men.
They nodded without argument.
“I’ll stroll down to the green,” Eleanor decided. “I’d like to keep a watch on Bradford, but if he has a third entrance on the side, I’ll have to hunt for a good hiding place with a view of both roads.”
“I’ll patrol both roads and hope the soldier in the privy will catch anyone going through the alley,” Andrew said cheerfully, taking the stairs at a decent speed despite his impediment.
They were grown adults, independent, not his servants, not his responsibility, Grey kept telling himself as they separated outside the manor.
But even his pathetic upbringing said letting a woman run about like a man was an extremely bad idea. He’d prepared for the eventuality, however. At his signal, Silas slipped from the shrubbery and followed Eleanor down the drive, sticking to the grassy verge and hedges where she wouldn’t notice.
She’d no doubt brain him with her stick if she learned he had her followed, but the physical pain would be preferable to the mental anguish should anything happen to the intrepid lady.
Grey would ponder that anomaly another time. Fastening a cloak over his dark clothing, he swung his own walking stick and trotted around the manor for the path into the village.