The Marquise of Glauster’s corpse was not yet cold. “Dalton is there. Shall I allow him to set me aflame in my sleep?”
Sunken cheeks drew wan, Griggs sucked in a confused breath. “Dalton resides in Bath, wooing the Countess Strand’s daughter. Had it not been for the funeral, he was not set to arrive until Parliament took their seats after Christmas.”
Looking to where Payne stood silent, Arabella frowned deeply. “That cannot be the case. Your informant is incorrect.”
“William Dalton has not come to London in over three months, my lady,” Griggs affirmed. “Why would you think otherwise?”
Because the gypsy, Ion, had told her Dalton was on her heels. He had whispered terrible things in her ear. “And you have proof of this?”
“The journey is not so far,” Mr. Griggs admitted, thin fingers steepled before him. “But a man of his rank, his movement would be noticed.”
Had she fled from a phantom? “I paid a gypsy to stalk Dalton’s movements. He was set to arrive in London when I was last there. This man warned me the Baron was coming. That is why I fled.”
“You were misinformed, my lady. The very night I got your letter, he attended a grand soiree in Bath. William Dalton was seen by many.”
It could not be. Pacing, her
skirts catching on her ankles, Arabella fretted. “Why would Ion lie? How could he have known the things he said?”
Payne stepped in, stilling Arabella’s agitation and addressing the old man. “If what you say is true, does Dalton avoid London because of his creditors?”
The Solicitor seemed reluctant, if not baffled, to explain, “That is another topic we needed to discuss. A great deal of his debt has recently been settled.”
“What?”
“Almost twenty thousand pounds.”
That was a vast fortune...
It all seemed too clever. What little joy she’d known from the Marquise’s death was slipping from her fingers. “Settled or transferred?”
“Considering how brazen he’s grown at the gaming tables, how flagrant with his tailor, it must be assumed it was settled.”
No, that was Gregory. She knew it in her bones.
Arabella had seen Mr. Harrow at that game with the farmer he’d ruined. Deceit and misdirection were the man’s specialty. He wielded such a talent against everyone, even her. “If I were to go to London, as you say, what would I do there?”
“You will attend the Marquise of Glauster’s funeral.”
A dry, horrid laugh escaped before Arabella could suppress it. “You would have a better chance convincing me to woo Countess Strand’s daughter in Dalton’s place.”
Griggs gave her a long look, rheumy eyes sharpening. “That is not so terrible an idea. Dalton will attend the funeral in London and would never anticipate you might travel to Bath.”
It was Payne who answered before Arabella could consider, “Bath is only a day’s ride from London. If Dalton were to hear of it, if he were to march, we would pass on the road, unprotected. Any attack could be attributed to highwaymen.”
Where she was or was not going was not nearly as important as the question that had yet to be answered. “Why did Ion lie? Why go to all the trouble to make me flee town?”
Griggs sighed. “I do not know this Ion and I cannot say.”
It was necessary to find out. As if Payne could read her thoughts, he took her hand, prepared to argue her out of her scheme. “The last trip to London made you unwell. You do not have to go. Stay here, I will go for you.”
It was fear that had sickened her. It was the doubt and self-loathing. Gregory had warned her against weakness, he had told her she had to fight or lose. London would bring her face to face with her enemy, but she could do more than stand her ground amidst mourners eager for gossip to trade. She was tired of being used.
Arabella shook her head, hardly believing she was about to agree. “Whether Ion told the truth or a lie, Dalton would never anticipate I would show my face.” Not after he’d seen her cower and beg for mercy three years ago. Not when he’d beaten her with a candlestick like some dog. Not when he’d heard her cry for the mother who had abandoned her. Not when he’d told her he’d cut her throat if he ever saw her again. “And he certainly would not anticipate I would send Magdala to Bath.”
The men looked confused.
“It would be best, after all, for a letter of such weight to be delivered by my lady’s maid directly into Countess Strand’s hands. I think she should know what type of man courts her daughter’s fortune. Solicitor Griggs, if you could have the figures prepared on the Iliffe estate for me before you go, along with a list of his recent known debts, I would appreciate it.”