is behind this and put their plans to rest. Olivia believes Nettleford will have lobster cakes at his ball next week. Lobster cakes! I have things to attend to and places I need to be. The world is moving and I am standing still.’ He buttered a slice of toast. ‘At least tell me you are closer to finding out who is behind the shooting.’
‘The man who shot you is dead.’
Prinny’s knife clattered to his plate. ‘Dead? How is that possible? He was being held at the Tower. To my knowledge there was no hanging.’
‘He did not face the gallows. Although there was no blood nor sign of a struggle, it appears he was murdered.’
The colour left Prinny’s face and beads of sweat formed on his forehead. ‘Poison.’
‘We believe so.’
Prinny looked down at his food as one would a gutter rat and pushed his plate away.
‘You are safe here,’ Gabriel tried to reassure him. ‘And if that were poisoned, I assure you, you would be dead by now.’
‘Murdered? But how is that possible when he was being held at the Tower?’
‘I am not entirely certain, but I assure you I will find out.’
Prinny drained his wine and motioned for more. ‘You need to find him.’
‘We will. But for the love of all that is holy, do not leave this house, do not see anyone else and trust no one.’
* * *
Gabriel entered his house frustrated they hadn’t yet uncovered who was behind the assassination attempt. There was unrest up north and in the streets of London. Many people were unhappy with Prinny for the cost of his extravagant lifestyle. The threat could have come from anywhere.
He was about to walk into his study and write a note to Andrew when Bennett gave a discreet cough.
‘Lord Hartwick is waiting for you in the Gold Drawing Room, sir.’
‘The Gold Drawing Room?’ Gabriel echoed, reconfirming the location.
‘Yes, sir. I felt it was the safest place to keep his lordship while he waited for you.’
Striding into the room, he found Hart seated at one of the game tables with a row of cards laid out before him. He was just about to lower the Queen of Hearts onto one of the piles when he spied Gabriel.
‘It’s about time. I don’t know how many more rounds of patience I could play before I grew bored enough to begin searching for hidden passageways.’
This was why Bennett was so indispensable. ‘There are no hidden passageways.’ At least none that he wanted Hart to know about.
Hart lowered the card and picked up a glass of what Gabriel assumed was his finest brandy. ‘Bennett would not allow me to wait in your study, which I believe would have been infinitely more interesting than poking about here. By the way, one of your gardeners enjoys taking a nip from the bottle as he prunes your shrubbery. If Her Grace has noticed a lack of blooms recently, it’s because he is cutting them off and disposing of them along with the dead branches.’
‘I take it this is not a social call?’
‘At this hour? While I do enjoy our amusing conversations, you are correct. I have news. You may wish to lock the door.’
By the excited gleam in Hart’s blue eyes, Gabriel knew the news he had uncovered was of no trivial matter. He took his friend’s suggestion and locked the door before he took a seat at the table and waited for him to continue.
‘Have you determined who was providing the information on Prinny’s whereabouts to Mr Clarke?’ Hart asked, tossing his head to the side to shift a lock of hair out of his eyes.
‘I have not.’
‘Well, I have,’ he said through a smug smile.
Gabriel leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. ‘Who is it?’
Hart sat back in the chair and stretched his legs out. ‘I was at Lyonsdale House recently, when Julian mentioned the wedding portrait of his wife had been completed. Always the polite guest, I asked to see it.’
‘I do not understand what this has to do with the gunman.’
Hart leaned forward, their knuckles almost touching, ‘Because the signature on that portrait matched the handwriting on your note.’ He reclined back again and arched an arrogant brow.
‘You are certain?’
‘I wasn’t at first. Something about the signature looked familiar, but then today I realised where I had seen such handwriting before. Are you still in possession of the note?’
Gabriel nodded.
‘Let me see it and I will prove to you I have found your match.’
When Gabriel returned from retrieving it from his study, Hart spread the paper out on the game table.
‘See here the swirled loop of the “m” and the down stroke of the “j”? I tell you, I have found your match.’
Although Hart was known to have an uncanny memory, Gabriel was not completely convinced. However, this was as close to a lead as he had had since the attempt on Prinny’s life. He had to pursue it.
‘Whose signature is it?’
‘A Mr John Manning of Hanover Square.’
Gabriel’s heart dropped to his stomach and the hair on the back of his neck rose. That man spent time with his wife...with his child.
‘You have grown quieter than usual,’ Hart said. ‘What are you not telling me?’
‘The gunman is dead.’
Hart’s previously casual pose was replaced by one of rapt attention. ‘How is that possible? He was under guard.’
Pushing away from the table, Gabriel stood and walked a few paces in agitation. Spinning back around, he ran his hand through his hair. ‘I do not know. You are certain Manning might be involved?’
‘I tell you, that is the man’s hand. If only you had a painting of his, we could...’ Hart’s gaze bore into him as if he could read Gabriel’s thoughts. ‘Your wife is his patron. Surely there is a painting of his here?’
Dear God, this couldn’t be happening, not again. Never discount the obvious. His father had pounded it into his head. The more he considered the facts, the harder it became to steady his breathing. Olivia had arranged the meeting between Prinny and Mr Owen. She told him not to take the royal coach and that she would take him in hers. Her carriage had the Lyonsdale crest on the side, just as his did. Just yesterday she’d persuaded Prinny to go for a walk outside in his garden where anyone in the park beyond would have had an easy shot at him. And he had heard her discuss Prinny with Manning.
He did not believe in coincidences. He knew first hand anything was possible. His past had taught him that—at
