Dangerous in Diamonds - Madeline Hunter [118]
“In the end, it is not about them, I am sure. It is all about Mrs. Joyes.”
Damnation. “Then let me put your philosophical quandary to rest. You will confide in me. Now.”
“I will share what I can. The first thing you should know is this. My wife is not at any party now. Not yet. She did ask me to be sure to be home by three o’clock. Very pointed on that, she was. I suspect that, at three o’clock, she is going to suddenly have to go somewhere, and ask me to accompany her.”
“That is odd.”
“Odder yet is that I saw Hawkeswell right before I came here. He also has been asked to be home at three o’clock. His wife is still at home too.”
“It is possible, I suppose, that Daphne and Lady Sebastian are holding a private conversation, and the others will join them.”
Albrighton did not look like he was convinced of that. Neither was Castleford, for that matter.
“You must forgive me for what I am about to tell you, Castleford. And for my actions, which were not requested or entirely honorable.”
“Hell, fine. You are absolved, but only if you speak plainly and be done with it.”
“I followed Mrs. Joyes when she left your house today.”
How like Albrighton to demand forgiveness before revealing that. Castleford did not hide his annoyance.
“How dare you.”
“I picked up a vague scent of intrigue two weeks ago, and it has only gotten stronger with time. I do not like smelling such things in my own home. As for why I turned my attention to Mrs. Joyes—two of the women involved are with child and unlikely to be the center of any scheme. Of the two that were left—Lady Hawkeswell’s life is an open book now, isn’t it? Her secrets are over. Mrs. Joyes is the only one of them who is still surrounded by questions.”
So Albrighton had noticed that. Of course he had. Spotting ambiguities and holes in stories was what he did. What he was.
Castleford began forming the words to put an end to this, out of loyalty to Daphne. He stopped himself. If Albrighton was here, there was a reason that had not been explained yet.
“So I found it odd that my wife wanted me home at exactly three o’clock when she never is so precise, and I took a chance this was all about Mrs. Joyes, and I followed her. She did not go to Lady Sebastian. Or to Lady Hawkeswell. She went somewhere else entirely.” He reached into his coat and handed over a small piece of paper with an address on it.
Castleford looked at it. “Who lives here?”
“I asked a local milliner, and she said the house had been to let until four days ago, when someone took it. So, having nothing better to do, I sought out the estate agent.”
“Who took this house?”
Albrighton looked at him somewhat oddly. Cautiously. “A woman named Miss Avonleah. Do you know her?”
Castleford gazed at the paper. “I know her.” At least, he had thought he did. “It sounds as if there will be a party at this house this afternoon, Albrighton. I trust that you will attend when your wife asks for your escort.”
“I think it best if I do.”
“So do I. I think that Miss Avonleah will be very disappointed if her salon is not well attended.”
Albrighton left then to return to his wife by three o’clock. He would be there at least, Castleford thought. And Hawkeswell and probably Summerhays.
That meant that the only person in their circle not invited to this party was the Duke of Castleford.
Daphne settled herself on a simple chair in the drawing room on Bird Street. The house was well-appointed and elegant enough. It spoke of gentility but not great wealth.
The street outside showed few carriages. There was only one shop on this block, a milliner’s. The residences lining it did not encourage many passersby.
“He is coming, I think,” Margaret said, running into the drawing room. She peered out the window. “That is his carriage stopping down there.”
Daphne got up and went over to look out. She turned Margaret around, and made a display of fixing the long frill of her cap. “Can you manage? I do not need a housekeeper. I can open the door myself and see him below in the morning room.”
“I