Darius nodded, accepting the reprimand. But he had only spoken the truth.
“However,” Graham went on, “I am interested in some aspects of last night. Permit me to assure you that we may be on the same side in this matter, and working together would aid us more than fighting. With your family’s reputation, I doubt my initial suppositions were true. I would like to explain what I was doing there, if you will do the same.” He glanced around, as if noticing the press of humanity for the first time. “Should I call on you?”
Darius shook his head. “Someone is always about my business at my house.” He did not intend for anyone to know about this matter unless it proved significant, and especially if Graham was involved in it. “I will come to you. Later today, if it suits?”
Graham nodded. “If you would. You are welcome to stay for dinner, should you wish.”
Darius had an infinite store of curiosity. He had never eaten in a Cit’s house before. Although, as a lawyer, Graham was not precisely a Cit, but he lived like one. Rumor had it Cits lived extremely well. “I appreciate the invitation, thank you. Until later, then.”
Without waiting, he strode away, feeling Andrew Graham’s eyes on him until he reached the corner.
Chapter 3
As he’d expected, Darius received a quiet request to visit his father in his study on his return. He sent a courteous message via a footman that he would attend when he was fit to do so, in about an hour. He doubted Lord Strenshall would welcome a visit from his son in this state.
When he walked into his bedroom, he caught his valet’s response. Richardson’s nose twitched.
“I agree,” Darius said, stripping off his coat as he walked across the room. “Order a bath, if you please. Nothing less will get this stink out. And I do not wish to see this suit of clothes again. Remove the buttons and get rid of the rest. Everything.”
“I have already ordered the bath, my lord. It will be here directly. May I suggest you allow me to comb through your hair?”
“You know where I spent the night, then?”
Richardson lowered his eyes. “A watchman had the temerity to call at what your father referred to as an ungodly hour, although in fact he himself had only been at home for half an hour.”
“Good,” Darius said absently. “I trust he sent the man away with a gentle reprimand.”
“More than gentle, sir.”
The door opened to admit a maid and two footmen followed by another maid carrying the tub and four cans of hot water. The half-full tub was deposited in front of the fire, and Richardson supervised them placing the soft white towels precisely in place, so Darius wouldn’t have to sully his precious flesh with bare metal.
Darius strode into his dressing room, shedding garments as he went. By the time he entered the small room attached to his bedchamber he was down to his underwear, shoes, and stockings. He used the chamber pot, washed his hands, and studied himself in the mirror. Considering he’d had no sleep last night, he was holding up fairly well.
An hour later, dressed more soberly in dark red cloth and cream, smelling a good deal better, and his damp hair tied back neatly but clinging to his neck, Darius felt ready to face his formidable parent.
He had a problem with interviews in his father’s study. While his father had delivered his fair share of physical punishment, his father’s displeasure and deep disappointment was far worse. When they brought sorrow to their father, his children truly grieved. He made sure of it.
Darius sighed, glanced in a nearby mirror, and made sure his neckcloth was straight before he tapped on the study door. A footman standing on duty in the hall gave him a sympathetic glance he was not meant to see, so he chose not to see it.
Opening the door, he braced himself for a confrontation of some kind. He would have to explain himself, but he was damned if he’d explain yet again what he was and why.
His mother barely acknowledged his other life, and his father referred to it in passing. The effect had separated Darius from his family somewhat.
Situated on the ground floor, the room was of modest size and lined with bookcases holding various items. Books, naturally, but also folders, some tied in red ribbon denoting their legal nature, others of worn and cracked leather, some brand-new. A few souvenirs propped up the volumes, and on the remaining bits of wall, miniatures of the family hung. This room was most certainly not for public consumption.
The marquess’s chair creaked as he leaned back and propped his elbows on the scratched old-fashioned mahogany desk that took up most of the floor space. Darius had often wondered how they’d managed to get it in here, since the windows were not large and only one door led in. He preferred to leave it as a mystery. Life should hold some mysteries.
His father motioned to the chair on the other side of the desk. After a perfunctory bow, Darius accepted the offer and sat, waiting for the axe to fall.
“What happened to the bastard?”
Darius’s eyes widened. “Which particular bastard are you referring to, sir?”
The marquess’s mouth flattened. “The one you were pursuing last night. The young man with a remarkable number of names.”
Ah. He should have guessed his father would discover his true purpose. Relief swept through him. Not another lecture, then. “Who told you?”
“That interfering fool General Court.”
Darius groaned. “He knows? Damnation. I wanted to clear the matter up cleanly.”
“By killing the man?”
Darius shrugged. “If it became necessary. I had actually planned to find out what he knew and get him out of the country. I want to discover what he knows so that we know what, if anything, is compromised.”
“How did you find out?”
“That we had a spy creating mischief?” Darius paused, but this was his father. If he couldn’t trust him, he could trust no one. “Julius suspected it, but he is busy about other matters, so I offered to investigate.”
“Your cousin has fingers in far too many pies, but your mother is fond of him.”
Julius Caesar Vernon, otherwise the Earl of Winterton and heir to the Dukedom of Kirkburton, did indeed have a considerable network of intelligence. However, the Strenshalls could rival it, if they wished to, and Darius had his sources.
Darius crossed his legs, relieved he was not to be subjected to a reprimand, or worse. “A rumor at Lloyd’s put me on the track of the man. He’d been offering a particularly tempting document for sale. Where else than in a coffeehouse where gentlemen make agreements every day? I had a name, and I went in search of it. I met the youth and befriended him, after I discovered we had a few interests in common.” He grinned. “It was not difficult. He said he was going to Mother Fleming’s, so I naturally offered to accompany him. I had thought to seize the document from him there. And then we were raided.”
“Yes,” the marquess said. “That was most unfortunate.”
“More than unfortunate. I think that raid was no accident. Someone wanted that youth in custody.”