“We moved last fall from Chelling Meadows to a more convenient and modern town house. I thought you knew.” Hancock fixed her with a haughty expression.
“No, I didn’t. Your brother was the one who bought Chelling Meadows. I suppose it’s hard to make someone else’s house yours.” Lady Westover matched his disdainful look before turning to her butler, who hovered at her shoulder. After a moment, she announced, “I’ve been informed dinner is ready. We’ll go down now and hope our last guest arrives soon. Eddy, if you’d escort Miss Daisy down, and Georgia, you’ll have to bring up the rear on your own.”
Eddy, Lady Westover’s grandson and a Scotland Yard inspector who much preferred to be called Edward or Inspector Grantham, winced but did as he was bidden. He flashed me a look that clearly said, What are you up to? before he offered Miss Daisy his arm.
We entered the dining room and faced Lady Westover’s large square table with two seats on each of the four sides and a stunning floral arrangement in the center. With the amount of time and effort Lady Westover spent on her heated glasshouse, I shouldn’t have been surprised at the gaily colored spring flowers that decorated the table.
Once we were all seated, the vacant chair next to me drew all eyes. Lady Westover had told me earlier my missing partner was the son of an old friend and suspected in Drake’s disappearance, but she refused to give me the man’s identity.
Naylard shared a corner of the table with me, giving me an excellent opportunity to question him about Drake. As soon as the soup course was served and the footmen retired, I said, “I’ve heard a friend of yours has gone missing.”
His unlined face scrunched up in a frown. “Who?” he asked around a mouthful of creamy asparagus soup.
“Nicholas Drake.”
“Yes. Shocking, isn’t it?”
“How did you meet?”
“It’s dashed embarrassing. How we met, that is.” Naylard turned pink. “I was standing on the riverbank watching some friends practice rowing at Henley. I slipped and fell in. Drake fished me out. Saved my life.”
“Can you swim, my lord?” I asked, staring into his eyes. Around us, other conversations were going on. No one was paying us any attention.
“Not a lick. I’m terribly uncoordinated.”
“I imagine you keep that secret.”
In the pause as Naylard took a spoonful of soup and then a sip of wine, I heard Lord Hancock touting the benefits of his newest invention to Inspector Grantham. Grantham’s responses were toneless noises.
“Oh, no. Everyone knows I sink like a stone. This is the second time I almost drowned. The first was at school. Friends still tease me about it.”
“How did you come to slip and fall in?” I took a quick sip of my soup. It was hot and creamy, the perfect thing on a cool, drafty night when I was expected to display a good deal of my neck and shoulders.
“The riverbank was wet and slick. I lost my footing when a wind gust hit me.”
“Those strong winds must have made practicing rowing on the river difficult.”
“No, there was no wind on the river.” A startled look crossed Naylard’s face. “Oh. Someone must have bumped me. I felt a nudge but I thought it was a strong breeze. Drake was the only one nearby to rescue me.”
Just as I suspected. Drake helped Naylard into the river so he could rescue him. In the silence as distrust slowly penetrated Naylard’s mind, I heard Lady Westover question someone about their favorite charity. I watched as Naylard’s expression changed from cheerful to questioning to surprised and then worried.
Was the man really so naive? “So you’ve been friends with Drake ever since he saved your life,” I said. “Any idea where he is now?”
Worry disappeared from his face. “No. I haven’t seen him since Lady Florence, the Duke of Merville’s daughter, had her engagement party last week. He’s not been in any of our usual haunts.”
“It is worrying when a friend vanishes.”
“Quite. It’s dashed disconcerting having people pop in and out of your life. Lucinda says it’s God’s will, but I’m afraid I don’t share her faith.”
I took a mouthful of soup, trying to think of a reply that would keep Naylard talking when the dining room doors opened and the butler announced, “The Duke of Blackford.”
It was all I could do to keep from choking. Blackford here? I’d spoken to him under my own name at his house and then at Sir Broderick’s. I’d told Lady Westover I’d met him. What was the old woman thinking of? He’d give me away.
My face heated as I stared at my soup, afraid at any moment my deception would be exposed. Mercifully, the Duke of Blackford began to talk to Lady Westover and Miss Daisy Hancock. I had only a few minutes before he would turn to face me and give away my true identity. I had to learn what I could from Lord Naylard.