“Something of great value usually has a history and is known. And so, Lord Dalton, we must consult with a person likely to know of such things,” Daisy said, to alert him that she had more ideas than what he deemed obvious. “I must write to Lady Grayson.”
“Lady Grayson!” Lord Burke said. “Capital idea. I have always felt there was nothing she did not know something about, or could not find out about, and she has a plethora of learned connections. But must the letter travel all the way to Sweden and chase her from place to place? I do not recall when they were set to return from their wedding trip.”
“They have returned,” Daisy said, “Kitty wrote me of their expected arrival back to England some weeks ago. They have bought a house in town and are there overseeing renovations of some sort. Or, at least, Kitty is overseeing the library and Lord Grayson is overseeing everything else. I shall write her—she is a diligent sort of person, I doubt we will wait long for an answer.”
“Ah, she manages the renovation of the library,” Miss Minkerton said to Lord Burke. “Is she the lady you spoke of, the improbable match between the lady librarian and the dandy?”
“Most improbable,” Lord Dalton said. “I amstilltrying to work it out.”
“There is nothing under the sun that is not made probable by affection,” Mrs. Jellops said.
This idea seemed to strike the party strongly, as all looked in different directions. Daisy looked over Lord Dalton’s head, Lord Dalton stared at the window behind her, Miss Minkerton peered into her soup, and Lord Burke gazed at the picture on the far wall.
It was only Mrs. Jellops who seemed to find her idea at all comfortable. “Well then,” she said, “there is the solution. Daisy will write to Lady Grayson.”
When they had retired to the drawing room, Miss Minkerton played the pianoforte while Lord Burke turned the pages for her. As Daisy wrote her letter to Kitty, now Lady Grayson, about the mysterious Dagobert, she paused from time to time to glance at the couple. She was not so sure that Miss Minkerton was entirely correct in her assumptions—Lord Burke seemed as any man paying his attentions to a lady in a drawing room, and so perhaps he did not view her as a sister after all.
As for Lord Dalton, Daisy did not detect any jealousy on his part by Lord Burke’s attentions to Miss Minkerton; he was far too busy telling her of this thing or that thing that she must include in her letter.
That circumstance could not say anything conclusive, though. Lord Dalton was not the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, if he had such a heart to wear. If he suspected Miss Minkerton’s feelings lay elsewhere and was affected by it, he would never reveal it.
Before she could finish her letter, there was a sound heard, growing louder, of a carriage barreling down the drive. Miss Minkerton’s carriage stood outside, so it could not be hers. Whoever it was, they came at a furious pace.
Lord Dalton and Lord Burke looked at each other. Lord Burke left Miss Minkerton at the instrument.
“My pistols are in the cottage,” Lord Dalton said.
“Mine in the carriage,” Lord Burke said.
“We are idiots,” Lord Dalton said.
Both men looked round the room as the sound grew ever louder. Their eyes both settled on the fire pokers and they grabbed one each.
Miss Minkerton had stopped her playing and rose in alarm. “What is it?” she asked, just then becoming cognizant of the approaching hoofbeats.
“We ought to go above stairs,” Mrs. Jellops said, her face gone white.
“There’s no time,” Lord Dalton said, “lock the doors behind us.”
Daisy hurried to the doors as the men strode out to the hall. As she locked them, with a rather flimsy lock, she thought, she heard Lord Dalton say to Bellamy, “Stand aside, we’ll answer it.”
Mrs. Jellops and Miss Minkerton had moved to the very back of the drawing room. Daisy thought she ought to do the same, but she must know—was it Lieutenant Farthmore returning? Was it someone else? Was it the same person who’d broken into the house?
She pulled the curtain aside just in time to see a coach clatter to a stop. It was as well-made as any she had seen and had a coat of arms on the door, though she could not see the details in the darkness, only the glinting of gold paint.
A finely-dressed servant leapt out of the carriage and said, “A communication for Miss Danworth, daughter of the late Lord Childress, and Charles Battersea, Earl of Dalton, from His Royal Highness, The Prince Regent.”
“What?” Lord Dalton said from the front steps. Daisy pressed her cheek against the window to get a better view and saw that he stood there with Lord Burke, both of them with fire pokers raised.
The servant, who appeared slightly bored, as if he’d seen everything in his career and two lords threatening him with fire pokers was hardly enough to discompose him, repeated, “A communication for Miss Danworth, daughter of the late Lord Childress, and Charles Battersea, Earl of Dalton, from His Royal Highness, the Prince Regent.”
“Good God, man,” Lord Dalton said, lowering his weapon, “why are you coming up the drive as if the hounds of hell were on your heels?”
“I am in a hurry, my lord, as I usually am,” the man said with aspersion. “Will you take the invitation? I have more stops to make.”
“Invitation?” Lord Dalton went down the steps and took the paper from the man’s hands. The fellow bowed, hopped back in the carriage, and rapped on the roof. They were off as fast as they had come.
Daisy hurried to unlock the doors and Lord Dalton and Lord Burke came back in. Lord Dalton had unfolded the paper, which in fact was two papers. He folded it back up and said, “Good Lord,” before handing it to Daisy.
