The Mystery of Mr Daventry (Scandalous Sons 4)

“I have spent twenty years wondering what happened to you.” He had spent most of that time carrying the guilt, taking the blame. “One more day won’t make a difference.”

She muttered incoherently, clearly displeased at his response.

“Forgive me if you find my manner a little cold,” he said, feeling the need to explain, to make her understand just how her absence had affected him. “But when one has spent so long alone, one develops a need for caution.”

His mother touched his arm again. “You don’t need to be alone anymore, Lucius.”

He should have pictured a family scene, laughter around the dining table where Julia Fontaine spoke of her son’s quirky habits as a boy. Instead, he pictured himself in bed with Sybil Atwood, all tangled limbs and clasped hands as they struggled to catch their breath.

Lucius forced a smile. “Are you staying with friends? A lodging house, or hotel?”

“I’m staying out of town. Old habits die hard, and I fear your father will make a sudden recovery and learn of my unexpected arrival.” She paused. “I followed you from Brook Street tonight. A friend told me you live there.”

Strange that he hadn’t noticed her lingering in the shadows. He was usually quite thorough when it came to scanning the street for pot

ential threats.

“I own the house, though have never received an allowance from the duke.” Oddly, he had always hoped his refusal to accept the devil’s charity would make his mother proud. “I might have bought a commission had it not been for my grandmother’s legacy.”

Her dull blue eyes widened. “The duchess despised me. I’m surprised to hear she made provisions for you.”

“I speak of your mother, Katharine Fontaine, not the duchess.”

“My mother?” Her look of surprise turned to disbelief. Perhaps Katharine Fontaine had believed her daughter was dead, too. Perhaps they were estranged. Perhaps Julia knew nothing of his grandmother’s gift. “I had not spoken to her for some years before her death.”

“I should like to learn more about her when we meet tomorrow.” The solicitor had been vague in offering explanations for the bequest. “Come to Brook Street at eight.”

She inclined her head. “Until tomorrow then.”

“Shall I hail a hackney? A woman should not walk the streets alone at night.”

“You’re the gentleman your father never could be,” she said, her smile barely hiding a terrible sadness. “But my friend is waiting in a carriage on Swallow Street.”

“Then I shall walk with you.”

“No.” She seemed flustered. “It’s a short walk. You know how the gossips are. Should anyone see us together, your father will hear of it before the first cockcrow.”

“Then I shall have someone else accompany you.” Lucius’ conscience would not allow her to walk alone. He bid his mother good night, gestured to a groom and paid him to escort the lady to Swallow Street. Upon the groom’s return, Lucius asked, “Was there a carriage waiting?”

“Not a carriage, a hackney, sir.”

“Did you see if there was anyone else inside?”

The scrawny fellow shrugged. “A man called to the jarvey, but I didn’t see him.”

Lucius thanked the groom, who was keen to return to his work.

Again, Lucius found himself standing, staring into the dark, replaying what might have occurred in Julia’s life during those missing decades. The thoughts were as frustrating as not knowing whether she was alive or dead. Painting his father as the wicked villain was easy. His mother’s frightened face and thin frame marked her as the victim. Yet Atticus had advised him not to create stories in his mind to suit his mood or purpose.

Releasing a loud sigh, he strode closer to the brazier, pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at the time. He could go in search of Newberry. A fight would ease the tension in his shoulders. He could go to Bideford Park, barge into his father’s chamber and torment him with news of Julia Fontaine.

Instead, he strode out of the mews and headed towards his carriage parked on George Street. Furnis woke from his nap as soon as Lucius opened the carriage door.

“Back to Brook Street, sir?”

“No. I wish to return to Bronygarth. Can you take me to the Wild Hare to collect my horse and be back in time to fetch Miss Atwood?”

He would not leave Sybil waiting with the Wycliffs, worrying about what might have happened. He would not have the Wycliffs think him negligent or tardy.