Page 116 of The Lyon Returns
Brice scowled. “You must admit, in general, you are a lucky chap.” He slanted Gideon a coy look as they made for their respective equipages. “You don’t find yourself lucky to have met and married Mrs. Devereux?”
“You make a good point.”
Brice slapped his thigh. “By God, I never thought I’d see the day some chit had you by the throat.”
Gideon studied Brice. He didn’t know if he was annoyed, amused, or appalled—because Brice had the right of it. He opted to leave it alone. “I’ll see you later.”
“What’s your hurry? What’s say we visit one of our clubs for a bite and a draught?”
Gideon shook his head. “Not today. I have need of a runner and want to get him started as quickly as possible.”
“A runner?”
“I went to have a conversation with the London customs official today, that man, Rory, and learned he’d recently retired.”
Brice arched his brows and fished in his pocket for change for the street urchin guarding their rides. “Why should you care if some government official has retired?” He handed the boy several shillings and then eyed Gideon.
“If you must know, I believe there’s a possibility he was involved in the rifle caper.”
Brice’s eyes went wide with evident shock. “How in God’s name did you leap to that conclusion? And why are you investigating, Gid?Let the Home Office do their job. I assure you, they are quite good at it.”
He arched a brow. “So good at it, they nearly accused me of treason.”
Brice tugged at his white, lacy cuffs. “There is that. All right, you have piqued my curiosity. Why do you think he’s involved?”
“I believe he lied about my shipments coming in light.”
He seemed to consider that. “What would that do for him?”
“Look Brice, I haven’t the time to—”
He held up a hand. “This is serious, Gideon. The man held a position of trust. I really must insist you explain yourself, and, in return, if I can assist you, I will.”
Gideon crossed his arms over his chest. “Assist me? How?”
“Through my connections at the Home Office, I may be able to track down this Rory’s address, if I feel there’s sufficient cause.”
“Very well. I believe he gammoned me with a purpose of misdirection. He wanted me out of the way, and he achieved that end.”
Brice rubbed an expertly manicured hand over his smooth jaw. “You’re saying Calcutta was all a lure? You found no evidence of any foul play, once there?”
“Correct.”
He nodded. “Then Kennedy and Rory were partners. They planned the whole thing.”
Gideon saw no point in defending his friend. It would only raise questions about where he’d learned of Rory’s involvement—Dirk’s wife. She was safely away from all of this, and Gideon meant to keep her that way. He had failed his friend in life, he would not fail him in death.
“Give me the rest of today to see what I can come up with. If you’re right, the Home Office owes you a bloody medal.”
Gideon deposited hisphaeton in the mews and started for the town house. A simmering anticipation coursed through him over the prospect of seeing his wife. He was fairly certain he’d find her home as he saw that the carriage was safely stowed in its stall.
Mayhap she would have time for a short break from her endeavors. Mayhap, a long break.
One of his footmen came trotting around the corner, breaking into his pleasant revery.
“You there, Murphy, isn’t it?”
The footman halted, coming to attention at once. “Yes, sir. Good afternoon, sir.”
