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Grand felt as if he had been brought before the strictest of headmasters. In many ways, he supposed he had.
“I understand, sir.”
“I do not think you do, Harlow.” Liverpool placed his cup upon the saucer with a definitive ‘clunk’. “All of our usual sources hold no knowledge of the necklace, which likely means that the thief is closer to Lady Jenest than the Prince would like to consider. Her Ladyship is hosting another evening at home the day after tomorrow. Miss Everley and ‘Mr. William’ will attend. You will not.”
“But—” Grand began.
“You will not,” Liverpool repeated.
Grandison wished to plead — to reason with Liverpool, to claim first right to the investigation, even when he knew the Prime Minister to be correct.
“Then you expect me to step away from the investigation?”
“Go on with your life, Harlow. You have done all I asked of you,” his lordship declared. “I will call upon you again when I next require your specific set of skills.”
“Dismissed?” Grandison frowned his displeasure.
“Not from the Home Office,” Liverpool explained. “However, even you must realise that you cannot make an appearance at Lady Jenest’s entertainment without creating another public row. The woman still decries your existence to anyone who will listen.”
“Such is exactly the reason I should call upon the widow in the midst of her at-home,” he argued.
******
Although Lord Liverpool had not agreed with Grand’s arguments regarding the necessity of his assisting Miss Everley, Grand had not been dissuaded by the Prime Minister’s disapproval. Departing his club, he set a course for Milk Street. He had not worked out all of the details in his head, but Grand was determined to be a part of retrieving the missing necklace.
“Good day, Jones.” He handed the man his hat and gloves. “Is your mistress in her salon?”
Grand took several steps in the direction of the stairs, before the servant’s reply stopped him in his place.
“Miss Everley is not in, sir.”
Grand’s eyebrow cocked in scepticism.
“Not in or not receiving? Surely the lady has risen from her bed by now. It is one of the clock.”
“Miss Everley spent only a few hours in her bed, sir, before she decided to go out.”
“To go out?” Grand turned back. “I assumed Miss Everley would take advantage of claiming her rest.”
Although few dared to go against an Earl, Jones regarded Grand with a challenge in his words.
“Miss Everley is never one to rest on her laurels, sir. Her day is still very full with her charities and such.”
“Charities?” Grand asked. “I was unaware that Miss Everley had her choice projects.”
Jones responded in tones which said there was much about Miss Everley which Grand had yet to learn.
“The mistress not only favours certain charities, she funds two very important ones.”
“Funds?”
Grand knew his ignorance was on full display, but it had never occurred to him that a woman on her own, who lived by apparent choice in Cheapside, would possess the type of money required to support a charity of any size — one that could make a difference in people’s lives. The thought made him wonder the source of the lady’s income. Did she exist on the ill-gotten money her father’s thefts had produced? The idea displeased him greatly.
“With the money Miss Everley inherited,” Jones clarified, evidently reading Grand’s thoughts.
“Naturally,” Grand pronounced in casual tones, knowing full well he meant to learn more of both an inheritance and the lady’s charities. “And where might one discover Miss Everley if he was to go searching for the lady?”
“I am not at liberty to say, sir.” Jones lifted his chin in a show of defiance.
