Murder in Grosvenor Square by Ashley Gardner Page A

gazed at Leland in shock. He was dressed for an evening on the town, in one of his most elegant suits, his cravat pin a glittering emerald. Diamonds winked white fire on his fingers, and his cravat was tied in a complicated but perfectly symmetrical knot. All this refinement contrasted sharply to the fear on his face.
    “Forgive me for disturbing you,” I began, my voice cracking.
    The fear flared to anger. “Bloody hell, Lacey, do not become prim with me. Matthias came running into White’s with a message that I must go to you in a dark passage in Seven Dials. If it had been any man but you, I’d have flat refused, but I knew you’d have good reason for me to rush there. Except, when I arrived, there was nothing but a foul stench and blood, and then one of Denis’s men found me and sent me here. Who the devil beat Leland over the head, while you do not have a scratch on you?”
    I waited until his words ran out, and then I quietly explained.
    Grenville put his hand to his already rumpled hair and dropped to the nearest chair. “Good Lord, Lacey. Does Sir Gideon know?”
    “Not yet. I was about to send for him.”
    Grenville shook his head. “I’ll go, of course, my dear fellow. My apologies for lighting into you like that. This is appalling.”
    “I do not know what to do with Travers,” I said, my words heavy. “I don’t know who his people are, where he’s from …”
    Grenville got to his feet, his commanding personality taking over. “Do not move.” He strode out the door. I heard him giving orders to Brewster and whoever else was below, though I was too tired to comprehend them.
    In a few minutes, Grenville was back, carrying the box he kept in his carriage that contained brandy and glasses. He poured a substantial amount of liquid into a glass and shoved it at me.
    “Get that inside you,” he said. “Then we’ll decide what to do.”
    *
    I was never more grateful to have a friend like Grenville than I was that night. His brandy burned a trail of healing fire down my gullet, but his help went far beyond that.
    Grenville knew I was in shock, and he was putting aside his own to handle the situation. He’d known Leland and the Derwents far longer than I had, and yet he turned away sorrow to do what had to be done. He told Brewster to find more blankets and pillows to make Leland as comfortable as possible, to stock water and tonics in case of fever, and to build up the fire to chase away the chill the rain and wind had brought. Brewster did it all without complaining, his expression as emotionless as the surgeon’s had been.
    Grenville had never met Travers’s family either, it turned out, but the Derwents would know who they were. He made sure I was all right, told Brewster that he should not leave me alone, and departed.
    Brewster had no intention of going anywhere. “Mr. Denis’s orders,” he said when I asked him if he didn’t want to return home, despite Grenville’s instructions.
    Mr. Denis had long had the habit of assigning men to watch me. Since our return from Norfolk, it had been Brewster most of the time. The fact that Grenville wanted the man to stay with me attested to his worry about both me and Leland. Grenville thoroughly distrusted and disliked Denis and everything connected with him, so his insistence on Brewster remaining spoke volumes.
    It was not long before Leland began the fever the surgeon had warned me of. He did thrash, and I held him down. I was strong, but so was he, and I had to recruit Brewster to help me. After the better part of an hour of this, Leland sank back to the pillows in exhaustion. I hoped he’d open his eyes and look around, but he drifted off again, finding whatever comfort in his darkness.
    More time crawled by—there were no clocks in the room, and I seemed incapable of pulling out the watch Donata had given me to check the time. At long last, Grenville returned with Sir Gideon, and I could put off my sorrowful tasks no longer.

Chapter