The Incomparable Countess by Mary Nichols

Author:Mary Nichols
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2001-10-10T16:00:00+00:00

Marcus did not go home but ordered his coachman to take him to White’s. ‘I shan’t need you any more tonight,’ he told him when he set him down outside the club. ‘I’ll walk home.’

He had arranged to meet Donald Greenaway; though they might have a hand or two of cards, the purpose of the meeting was to exchange information and very possibly go on with their search for Harriet Poole. If he had known that Frances and his daughter were speculating about his nightly excursions and drawing their own conclusions, he would have chuckled. Far from enjoying himself, he had been combing the great city for a woman and child who seemed to have disappeared.

Donald was convinced that finding her husband first would serve them best and that he would be found among the low life of the city, the harlots and petticoat merchants, thieves and vagabonds, and they were creatures of the night. It was certainly the time when informers could be found and bribed for information. And so night after night, they had patrolled the streets, entered filthy taverns, questioned the people who lived in the rookeries. But so far they had had no success. Were the Pooles still in London? If not, where should he be looking?

Donald was waiting for him in one of the smaller rooms, watching a game of faro. He rose when he saw him and came over to shake his hand. ‘I’d nigh on given you up.’

‘I had an evening engagement.’

‘Oh, accommodating, was she?’

He smiled crookedly, remembering that kiss. She had been asking for it, wanting it as much as he had, or so he had thought. Had he misread the signals? Had it really meant nothing to her? If she was telling the truth when she said it was something and nothing, then she was an accomplished flirt, a tease. Perhaps he was not the only one to enjoy the favour of her lips. What about Sir Percival Ponsonby? Were there others? Why did it matter so much? He shook himself. ‘You are off the mark, my friend, it was a visit to the opera with friends, nothing more.’

‘You know, Stanmore, you are becoming a dull old fellow. This Mrs Poole seems to have taken your wits as well as your heart. I said you could leave the finding of her to me and I meant it. You should learn to enjoy yourself. I know a curvaceous little Cyprian…’

‘No, thank you.’ He looked about the room at the card players. ‘Do you want to play?’

‘No, for then we cannot talk. Come into the corner and I’ll tell you what I’ve learned.’

Marcus called the waiter over to order two bumpers of brandy, and they settled themselves into armchairs, facing each other and close enough to converse in low voices.

‘Poole is definitely in London,’ Donald went on, after the waiter had gone. ‘I had it from a Bow Street Runner…’

‘What business has a Runner with him? Has he broken the law?’

‘Not yet, but they are watching him.

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