The Hanover Square Affair (Captain Lacey Regency Mysteries Book 1) by Ashley Gardner & Jennifer Ashley

Author:Ashley Gardner & Jennifer Ashley [Gardner, Ashley]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Mystery
Published: 2014-01-06T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

After spending another three-quarters of an hour in unenlightening conversation with Lord Berring, I departed. I had tried to pry from him any information regarding Jane Thornton and Aimee, but he gave me a puzzled look and said he knew nothing about such goings-on. He could have been a master actor, but I didn’t think so.

Before leaving Hanover Square, I took a chance and knocked on the door of number 23. A footman answered.

“Mr. Preston is not at home, sir.”

“I’ve come to see Master Philip,” I answered. I handed him my card.

The footman studied it curiously, then me. “Master Philip is not here either, sir. He’s gone out in the carriage to take the air.”

I suppressed a dart of impatience, but there was little I could do. I did not know the family, and I could hardly force myself inside to wait. I made myself nod. “Please tell Master Philip that I called and that I will write to him for an appointment.”

The footman regarded me dubiously, but nodded. “Yes, sir.”

I made my way home then, intending to begin my search for Jane again, and to plan how to go about finding and getting myself introduced to Horne’s cousin, Mulverton. Then there was the matter of Charlotte Morrison to look into. But Grenville’s carriage stood in Russel Street, at the top of Grimpen Lane, and his footman politely informed me that Grenville was waiting for me at his club.

I was becoming irritated at Grenville’s arbitrary summonses, but he might provide me some information on Mulverton. I let the footman help me into the coach. The conveyance was truly luxurious, with plush and tufted walls and deep cushions, and it was so well sprung that the hard cobbles of London jolted me far less than they did in any hackney. I rested my foot on the cushioned stool and resigned myself to the comfortable journey.

I descended into St. James’s Street and made my way through the rain and lowering fog to Brooks’s club. This early in the afternoon not many gentlemen were about. The club would fill to the brim later in the night when men would risk their fortunes, estates, and family reputations on the turn of a card. Even now, the more hardened players sat in the games room, hunched over green baize tables taking chances on macao or whist.

I asked for Grenville and was shown to one of the parlors. Three gentlemen, necks swathed in starched white, stood at the window, discussing everyone who passed below. Grenville was enthroned in a wing chair near the fire, facing an avid audience of two young dandies, a young lord, and Mr. Gossington, a prime gossip who cared only for his clothes and for sport.

“. . . lime green waistcoat,” I heard Gossington say as I approached. “And his trousers so puffed out he had to turn sideways to enter the room. I ask you.”

Grenville saw me and lifted his hand to interrupt. “You must excuse me, gentleman. I have business with Captain Lacey.

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