Given Lady Inglis’s title, presumably her late husband was a viscount, baron or some such. Their house reflects that. It’s not the monstrosity Gray’s sister Annis lived in with her earl husband. It’s more like something I’d picture in a Jane Austen novel. A tidy house in the country with a bit of land.
As we approach, I glance at Gray, ramrod straight on the opposite coach seat.
“If you don’t want to do this, we can turn around now,” I say. “She won’t have spotted us.”
“It is fine.”
I sigh. “You’ve been saying that since last night, and it doesn’t get any more convincing with practice. I regret getting that signature?—”
“Nonsense. I am glad you got it, and I am the one who insisted on meeting Mr. Dickens. You tried to demur.”
“But if it feels like you owe her, you don’t. I can handle this on my own. Iamyour assistant, after all. I can take the meeting and say you were called away on an emergency.”
“An undertaker emergency?”
“Hey, it can happen. Lady Inglis doesn’t need an explanation. I can write down the details, and if I want to investigate, I can. On my own.I’mthe professional detective, after all.”
“If I seem out of sorts, it has nothing to do with the possibility of helping Lady Inglis. She is being blackmailed and cannot go to the police, and so she deserves help.”
“Does she?” I meet his gaze. “I’m trying not to pry here, Duncan, but I’ll admit I’ve been hoping you’d give me more on your own. I don’t need details. I just need to know if she...”
If she hurt you. If she did anything that means I don’t want to help her.
“If I need to be wary,” I say.
“Of Patricia?” He stops, and his lips purse, as if he didn’t mean to be so informal. “Not at all. She is a good woman, deserving of our help.”
Which doesn’t really answer my question. Lady Inglis can be a decent person and still have hurt him. Yes, I knowheended the relationship, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t do something to deserve it.
“Fine, I’ll drop it,” I mutter, less graciously than I’d like. The coach has pulled up to the house anyway. Too late to turn back. When it stops, I move toward the door.
“This is very uncomfortable for me,” Gray says.
“Which is why I suggested you stay behind.”
According to the dictates of polite society, Gray should disembark first, to help me down. Sometimes he does, but he’s just as likely to forget, lost in his own thoughts.
Today, when Simon—our groom—opens the door, Gray waves him back to the driver’s seat. Then he pulls the door shut.
“Lady Inglis and I had a... somewhat humiliating misunderstanding,” he says. “When I... am seeing a woman, I expect that I am the only person she is seeing, as she will be the only one I am seeing. I made the mistake of not being explicit about that.”
“Ah.”
“It was not my finest moment,” he says. “The fault was my own, for presuming the relationship was exclusive. I handled it poorly.”
“But shedidtry to win you back.”
He mumbles something I don’t catch, and my heart sinks even as I curse myself for that. I’d been under the impression that he’d lost interest or decided the relationship wasn’t working. That’s not the case and...
Shit.
I was trying to get past the awkwardness of taking a job from Gray’s former lover, and now I discover that their breakup wasn’t as clear cut as I thought. He hadn’t simply moved on. He’d been hurt and retreated and then been too embarrassed to reconcile. I’m caught in between Gray and a former lover he might very well still be interested in.
“I could go,” I blurt.
He startles and blinks at me. “What?”
“I could leave. Let you handle this. If you’d... prefer.”
