“Surely he wouldn’t frequent prostitutes? Not if he can have any socialite he wants?”
“Can he, though?”
Couldn’t he? There was the girl he wanted to marry, I suppose, but she couldn’t be an heiress or socialite, or his parents would surely have approved of her. And other than that…
“There was a long list of women in the dossier that he’s had some sort of relations with. He shouldn’t have to visit brothels to have his needs met.”
Christopher shrugged. “Was there anything in Grimsby’s notes other than women? You mentioned a car accident?”
“Drunk in charge,” I nodded. “He crashed a car into a light pole somewhere in the West End. And walked away laughing, apparently. He destroyed one of the rooms in Sutherland House when he came home drunk and angry. He’s showed up without his wallet, and without his cufflinks, and without all his clothes on. I assume he must have brought some of these women to Sutherland House, too, for the staff to know about them.”
“So he’s a cad and a bounder and a few other of those old-fashioned words.”
I nodded. “Other than that—” And it was plenty, really, “the only interesting thing was the circle and the initials around his birthdate.”
“So we’re walking to the village to see if Doctor Meadows is available.”
“Among other things,” I said, rather pleased that he’d figured it out on his own. “I also wanted to get out of the house for a bit, and to have a chance to talk to you about Grimsby’s notes.”
“And now we’ve done both.”
Indeed. “As I told Tom Gardiner last night, there really wasn’t much in the notes that’s likely to be helpful. A lot of information about St George’s misdeeds. You and me going about life in London, shopping and taking tea and things like that. Nothing very damning in any of it. Tom already knew about Kitty, and it’s not like St George is keeping it a secret, how thoroughly wicked his behavior is.”
Christopher shook his head, just as the village came into view below us. The vista of Wiltshire opened up, with rolling fields to the left and right. We had made it to the other side of the copse of trees we could see from the Hall, and now the Hall was visible in its turn from the bend in the road. The afternoon sun shone on the warm stone of the walls and made the many windows reflect glints of light. A small figure in black moved across the courtyard past the fountain, perhaps Tidwell or one of the footmen or, if they’d taken to dressing in mourning for the late duke, Francis or Crispin.
The next second there was a loud sound, and something slapped hard against my arm.
“Ow,” I said, putting my hand to it.
The second after that, Christopher had tackled me, and I was rolling down the incline into the ditch on the side of the road, shrieking.
“Sorry,”Christopher said a minute later, when we had taken stock of ourselves and each other. “So sorry.”
We were still sitting at the bottom of the ditch, and he was apologizing profusely. “Sorry. I thought you’d been hit.”
“I’m not sure I wasn’t hit,” I told him, eyeing the blood seeping out of my arm and into the tweed of my jacket. For a second, before my head started swimming and I had to look away. “That was a gunshot, wasn’t it?”
“It sounded like one,” Christopher said grimly. “Then, when you saidOwand grabbed your arm, I thought you’d been hit. Or I didn’t think at all, I guess. I just wanted you out of the way. So I pitched you into the ditch.”
“I appreciate the quick thinking.” Even if there hadn’t been another shot. There might have been one if we’d stayed on the road, visible.
“Someone shot at us,” Christopher said.
“I think you’re right.”
“Do you suppose they’ll come to see whether we’re dead?”
They might. Although— “There was only one shot, so I’m sure they—whoever they are—realize that at most, one of us is dead. But it might be a good idea if we move from here.”
“Where do you want to go?” Christopher asked. “Back to the Hall? Or down to the village?”
Back to the Hall held very little appeal, when there was someone there taking potshots at people. Although eventually it couldn’t be avoided, I assumed. We lived there for now.
But also for now— “The village. It’s a perfect opportunity to visit Doctor Meadows. And while I talk to him and have my wound bandaged, you can ring up the Hall and arrange to have someone fetch us.”
“Can you make it to the village?” Christopher sounded concerned.
“I’m fine,” I said. “It’s just a scratch.”
