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“So we think this redheaded woman stole the dress now?”
“I do indeed.”
“Does this mean we are investigating this mystery woman then?”
“We?” She shook her head. “No. Iam.”
“I think you keep forgetting that you are not ridding yourself of me so easily, Ellie.”
“I should imagine you have better things to do with your time than chase missing gowns, Ollie. Use your flirtatious manner for something else perhaps.”
“I only flirted with her to aid you,” he stated. “But, alas, I do actually have a meeting with my accountant shortly.” He tugged out his pocket watch then put it away to meet her gaze. “I expect word on what we are to do next.”
Her dark brows lifted. “Youexpectword?”
“Or else you shall find me on your doorstep tomorrow and the next day.”
Eleanor puffed out her cheeks. “I do not see why you wish to involve yourself in this.”
Oliver did. And he didn’t like it. He could say it was for Demeter and Blake—which it had been initially—but Blake was a grown man, he could solve his own problems. However, seeing Eleanor’s face light up at the thought of solving a mystery had him intrigued. What else made her eyes bright like that? He had to find out, damn it all.
“I’ll walk from here,” he offered when they reached her carriage. She would be safe enough with the footman and driver, and he needed very much not to be in close confines with her. At least for the moment.
“Are you certain?”
“Quite certain. It’s only a short way.”
He waited until the carriage rolled away and caught a glimpse of her face against the window. Shaking his head to himself, he made his way down the street in the direction of White’s. He hadn’t lied about meeting his accountant, but he had lied about it being a short walk to meet with him. It would take him a good hour to get there, and he would most certainly be late. Still, he paid the man generously enough—a short delay would not kill him.
By the time he arrived at the gentleman’s club, the accountant had installed himself at a round table by the empty fireplace and had nursed at least two drinks by the look of the empty glasses in front of him. The man waved at him, but Oliver paused when he spotted one of his brothers lounging on a long red sofa that lined one edge of the club. Given it was only just past visiting hour, not many men occupied the seats, but it looked as though Nicholas had been here some time. Oliver motioned to the accountant to give him a moment, then spoke to one of the waiters.
“How long has he been here?”
“Since we opened, my lord.”
Oliver grimaced. Barely a year younger than Oliver, he and his brother had always been close, but he’d seen less of him since he’d wed a woman far too much like their mother for his liking. He sat beside Nicholas and gave him a shove on his shoulder.
“Is it not time to go home, Brother?”
Nicholas grinned blearily at him. “Not on your life.She’sthere. Decided she did not want to see anyone today.”
“You cannot avoid your wife the entire Season.”
“Watch me try,” Nicholas declared and motioned for a drink.
Oliver shook his head at the waiter. “As soon as this meeting is done, I’m taking you home. In the meantime, you can have a coffee.”
“You’re a cruel man, Oliver.”
Grimacing, Oliver rose and ordered a coffee for his brother, glancing back at a man who used to be so like him. They shared similar good looks, however Nicholas looked like the older brother now, with shadows under his eyes and a constant look of strain upon his forehead. He shook his head to himself. A classic example of what marriage could do to a man. And a fine reason for him to avoid it.
Chapter Six
From Demeter’s sunny demeanor at breakfast, Eleanor could tell Blake had yet to tell her about the wedding dress. Perhaps he’d been waiting to hear what she and Oliver had discovered but, either way, Eleanor was useless at fibbing and Demeter should be told. Anton and his wife were blissfully unaware of the whole situation and talked of the redecoration of what they affectionately called the throne room, despite the Prince Regent rarely visiting and there being no thrones at all in there.
Her older sister wore a necklace with a glass crocus hanging from the gold chain. Eleanor couldn’t remember exactly what the flower meant but Demeter only wore that piece of jewelry when she was happy. Because of her hearing problems when she was younger, Demeter had taken to using the language of flowers to communicate her emotions.
Now if only Eleanor could manage her emotions so easily. Since yesterday with Oliver, her stomach had not ceased acting as though it were part of an acrobat show at Vauxhall. If there was a flower for confusion, she should be festooned with it.
