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Gray kept going into his bedchamber. ‘Tompkins!’
‘Here, my lord. All packed. I have my own valise ready, as well.’
‘No. Stay here.’ He couldn’t bear the thought of being cooped up with someone else in a chaise for that long, having to maintain his composure in front of another human being. ‘Henry, tell Hotchkiss to deal direct with Miss Frost over the house in Half Moon Street. She’s at Grillon’s.’
‘Of course.’ Henry waited while he snatched up the bag from the end of the bed and followed him downstairs. ‘If there is anything I can do while you’re away, just write. I’ll pray for you all.’
That was the last thing Gray was conscious of before he strode out of the back door and into the mews. One of the footmen was stowing a hamper in the chaise, the postilions were mounting up, two of them for the four horses. He could always rely on his mother, they’d make the best possible time. ‘Shortest route to Harrogate,’ he ordered as he slammed the door and the coach lurched into motion.
* * *
The next morning breakfast was an almost-silent meal. Jane kept her attention firmly on a book in German on rock formations that she had found in the circulating library and tactfully remarked neither on the dark circles under Gaby’s eyes nor asked for details of her falling-out with Gray.
Eventually she took herself off, announcing that she had a ticket to visit the British Museum and assumed Gaby would not be interested.
Gaby agreed that indeed she would not, wished her a pleasant day and rang to have the table cleared, keeping back a cup of coffee.
She sipped it while she fought the strong inclination to book passage on the next ship back to Porto, however strange it might seem to her friends and neighbours for her to return so swiftly. She would settle on the house, take it for two months. Then she would go and call on her aunt, permit herself to be fussed over and, somehow, manage to break her false betrothal to Gray whilst not encouraging Aunt Henrietta’s matchmaking schemes for George. If she had no social life, she could meet no gentlemen and if she met no one there was little hope for her plan.
If it has any hope at all, she thought, cupping her chin in one hand and stirring far too much sugar into her coffee.
There was a tap at the door. Had she ordered more coffee and forgotten about it? ‘Come in!’
One of the hall porters entered. ‘Gentleman at the front desk asked if he might call, Miss Frost.’ He proferred a small salver with a card. ‘He apologises for the early hour, but begs the favour of a brief word.’
Gaby frowned at the rectangle of pasteboard. Henry Pickford. How very strange that Gray’s cousin should come to call at that hour. ‘Please ask him to come up directly.’
The porter escorted him in a few minutes later, then left, closing the door behind him.
‘Miss Frost, I do apologise for calling so early.’ Henry shook hands and looked around. ‘Ah. You appear to be alone. Forgive me, no doubt you would prefer to come downstairs and talk in one of the public rooms. If you can spare me a few minutes, that is?’
‘There is no need, Mr Pickford, I feel quite safe with you.’ He blushed, but took the seat she gestured to as she sat down. ‘May I ring for some coffee for you?’
‘Thank you, no. I came merely to let you know that Lord Leybourne has had to leave town for a few days. I know he has charged Mr Hotchkiss to speak to you directly about the house in Half Moon Street, but he left in such haste that he was not able to let you know about his absence and I felt you might perceive it as some unintended neglect.’
‘Nothing is wrong, I hope?’ Surely Gray had not fled London because of her refusal to become his lover? He was neither a man who sulked, nor one who lost control of his temper, she was certain. Henry Pickford was looking uncomfortable and she immediately apologised. ‘But I am prying into family business.’
‘Not at all. You are concerned, I understand that. It is a family matter of some urgency, but I do not know the details and I am not in a position to speak of it.’
‘Of course not.’
‘Forgive me, Miss Frost. I realise this is not something that one should say to a lady, but you seem a little pale. Might I offer you my escort for a stroll in the park, perhaps?’
‘I—’
I want to go back to bed and pull the covers over my head and pretend none of this has happened. I want to be back home at the quinta with nothing to worry about but the price of barrel staves and an outbreak of mould. I want Gray. And I do not want to dissolve into a wet puddle of feebleness and throw away everything the Frosts have worked for over the decades. Everything I worked for.
‘Thank you, I would appreciate your escort very much, Mr Pickford.’ Gray, whose judgement she trusted, thought well of his cousin, considered him an honest and honourable man. He was a perfect, safe escort.
Chapter Fourteen
‘When do you expect to move house, Miss Frost?’ Henry tucked her hand under his arm as they strolled through the north-eastern gate of Green Park.
‘Within a few days, I hope, Mr Pickford.’ They paused on the brink of the reservoir and looked out towards Westminster Abbey in the distance. ‘The air is very smoky again today.’
‘It must seem
unpleasant after Portugal. I imagine clear blue skies and sunshine every day,’ he said as they began to walk again.
