Murder in Grosvenor Square Read Online Free PDF Page B

or two.” Donata set aside her glass and cigarillo, rose, and came to me. Her fingers in my hair were distracting, as were the scents of tea and spice that clung to her.
    “I am surprised you did not accompany Gabriella to Bath,” I said. “Surely you feared she’d get herself married to an aging squire with bad breath without your supervision.”
    Donata rested her hip on the arm of my chair. “I preferred to remain in London, with you.” To know whether you lived or died , she did not say, but I read in her eyes. “I would never have let Gabriella out of my sight, of course, if she hadn’t gone with Aline. I trust Aline’s judgment completely.”
    “Do you?” I thought of the tall, white-haired, loud-voiced Lady Aline. True, any aging squire with bad breath wouldn’t stand a chance against Aline and her stout walking stick.
    “Of course I do.” Donata kissed the top of my head. “Aline likes you .”
    I snaked my arm around my wife’s waist, overbalancing her until she landed across my lap. My glass of brandy, which had rested on the other arm of the chair, fell to the carpet in a wave of pungent alcohol, but at the moment, I couldn’t be bothered to notice. The brandy tasted better on Donata’s lips, in any case.
    *
    As was her habit, Donata lay abed far into the next day while I, restless, had to be out and about, riding, walking, or tending to business. I rose at daylight, sliding quietly from the bed so as not to disturb her, and made for my dressing room to wash and dress.
    Bartholomew put me into yet another new suit, this one with leather breeches and a warm coat, made solely for riding.
    “If her ladyship keeps on in vein,” I said to Bartholomew, “I’ll have more clothes than Grenville, and we’ll be obliged to hire another house in which to store them.”
    “A gentleman should have a suit for every occasion, sir,” Bartholomew said, somewhat haughtily.
    He had begun his career as Grenville’s footman, but now as my valet, Bartholomew was becoming quite the snob. He brushed my coat to an inch of its life and sent me off.
    Hyde Park in the morning was fairly empty. Only the robust of Mayfair climbed out of bed and rode this early—the fashionable hour was much later in the day.
    I preferred riding at this time, when the paths were clear. A good gallop woke me up better than sedate trots, and I put my horse through his paces. The gelding belonged in truth to young Peter, but the understanding was that I took him for exercise whenever I liked. Peter was currently staying with Donata’s parents in their elegant house in Oxfordshire—sent away as Gabriella had been in light of my duel—and I looked forward to riding with the boy again upon his return.
    The park looked very different today from when I’d stood on the misty green and shot Stubby Stubbins. The air was clear, slightly warmer with gathering spring.
    “Well met again, Captain,” a voice called out to me.

Chapter Four
     
    I slowed my mount to a walk as Gareth Travers, riding a large bay mare, came trotting toward me, his high hat moving up and down as he rose and fell with the horse’s gait. Gareth pulled his horse to a walk, guiding it next to mine, and gave me a cheerful grin.
    He wore a riding habit of skilled tailoring and gloves that hugged every finger. The hat, which he tipped, spoke of expense. I’d restrained Grenville’s tailor from making my coat too ostentatious, but Travers obviously hadn’t stopped his man from adding throat-stabbing collar points, wide lapels, and an unnaturally tight waist. He wore the ensemble well—I suppose the exuberance of youth made what would look ludicrous on me rather natty on him.
    “Good morning, Mr. Travers,” I said, giving him a polite bow. “A fine day for a ride.”
    “It is indeed.” Travers took a long breath and gazed up at the sky. “I always enjoy an early canter.”
    I had never seen Travers out at this hour, and I’d been coming every day, but I held my