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“My Lady?” a male voice said from behind her. “What are you doing out here?”
She turned to face the Earl of Diggar. One of her father’s good friends. “Just getting some air, My Lord.”
“Are you well?” The Earl of Diggar was a frightening gentleman, although solicitous. She wondered, often, if that was a front.
“Yes. Well enough to go back inside, My Lord,” she assured him cheerfully. She didn’t want to be alone out here. Not with him.
“Very good, My Lady.” He pulled out his pipe, and took her place along the balcony of the terrace.
Arabella walked back inside, regretting that she had to give up her place out on the terrace. She couldn’t stand the scent of tobacco smoke, however. The Earl of Diggar made her uncomfortable, to say the least.
She stood near the French doors to the terrace, her eyes traveling the room. It was filled with members of the ton, as well as some lesser personages of wealth, but not title.
She looked for Mr. Conolly, but didn’t see him. She finally spied him, deep in discussion with the Marquess of Winterbourne. He was smiling, she noted. As she watched, Lord Winterbourne pulled a golden pocket watch out of his jacket pocket.
Mr. Conolly took it, slipping it into his own. Lord Winterbourne said something, his face stern. Mr. Conolly nodded. Then, they both shook hands. Mr. Conolly walked back across the room. She moved so as to be in his path.
When he saw her, he smiled.
“My Lady,” he said.
“What, pray tell, just happened with Lord Winterbourne?” she asked.
“Unfortunately, that’s between me and my client,” Mr. Conolly replied. The smile fell from his face.
“Who is your client?” she asked.
He studied her for a moment. She kept her eyes on his, drawing herself to her full height.
“My Lady, if I told you my clients’ business, then I would be out of work,” he explained, gently.
She nodded. “Very well, keep your clients’ secrets.”
He sighed. “I wish I could, though. I’m sure that you would find it all very amusing.” He was softening it for her. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have to go and find my client.”
She nodded. Glancing around the room, her eyes met her father’s gaze. He had clearly just watched her exchange with Mr. Conolly. His head was tilted to the side, curiously.
He frowned thunderously. Then he turned away, to say something to Lord Greyfield. Arabella felt a chill rise across her skin. He had seen and realized much, she knew.
* * *
Charles returned the pocket watch to the Earl of Diggar, whom he found standing out on the terrace, smoking his pipe.
“Here you are,” he said, handing it to the delighted Earl.
“You’re a miracle worker, Mr. Conolly,” he said. “How much do I owe Lord Winterbourne?”
“Fifty pounds,” he replied.
“Good, good.”
“He expects it delivered to Winterbourne Manor tomorrow morning,” Charles said.
“I’ll send one of the servants,” Lord Diggar said, nodding. “I’ll have your fee sent, as well.”
“Thank you, My Lord.”
“No, thankyou, Mr. Conolly,” Lord Diggar said, patting him on the arm, and then leaving the terrace.
