“Diana and I saw Melrose with one of the footmen at the bookstore in the small village near Grafton Manor. They were conversing in a secretive manner. After that encounter, they completely ignored each other for the remainder of the party.”
Dante leaned back and stretched. “This wouldn’t be the Lady Diana to whom I understand you’ve become betrothed? Our Lady Diana? The one who—”
“Stop.” Hunter glared at his youngest brother. “We are not discussing my fiancée. And I suggest you keep any derisive comments to yourself.”
Dante smirked and raised his hands, palms forward. “As you say, big brother. I merely wanted to wish you both well.”
Hunt snorted and continued. “Another point in this story is J. D. Mallory whose body was found in his burned-out studio. He didn’t die from the fire, but the two bullet holes in his chest. The man was apparently working with the group and planned on escaping to the continent. Why he was fleeing, I have no idea, but he might have been absconding with either money, information, or names. Perhaps all three.”
The men remained silent for a moment, then Hunt added, “I saw Melrose at the theater the other night, and he approached me about speaking with the two of you about extending him more credit.” He turned to Driscoll. “Apparently he has been cut off?”
“Yes. He has.”
“Here is where my favor from the two of you comes in. I have been asked by Sir Phillip to slip into Melrose’s house and gather whatever documentation I can regarding his involvement. I have guaranteed access to the house, but I need to make sure he doesn’t return before I finish.”
Dante glanced over at Driscoll. “How bad is Melrose’s account?”
“Bad enough, but we can certainly keep him busy enough here without adding too much to his debt.”
Driscoll turned to Hunt. “When?”
“That I must get back to you on. My valet has a contact with someone at Melrose’s house who will leave the back door open for me. We just need to coordinate with him, then I’ll know the day. How can we be sure Melrose will be here that night?”
Driscoll tapped the end of his pencil on the table. “Easy enough. He is currently banned, but I can send around a note that you spoke with us, and he is now allowed back in with a limited amount of credit. I can practically guarantee he will arrive the very night I send the note.”
Hunt slapped his hands on his thighs and stood. “Good. Let me know when the note goes out. Give me a few days to set it up with my man.” He moved toward the door.
“Wait,” Dante said, his annoying grin putting Hunt on alert. “When is the wedding?”
“We haven’t set a date yet.”
“Ah, some doubts on your part, perhaps?” Dante laughed. “Not that I am suggesting anything about the young lady’s past.”
Hunt glared at his youngest brother. “No. Actually the reticence is on Lady Diana’s part.” With a quick two-finger salute, he left the room with his brothers’ startled expressions on their faces and headed out of the club.
“Where is Marcus?” Hunt asked as he handed his hat and gloves to Peters, the man at the door. Another one of Marcus’s recruits.
“The last time I saw him, my lord, he was headed to the kitchen.”
Most likely to cajole Cook out of one of her apple pasties. The man had an enormous sweet tooth.
Hunt made his way to the kitchen where, as expected, Marcus was charming the cook, who, despite her age was giggling like a schoolgirl. “Marcus!”
He turned to Hunt. “Yes, my lord.”
“Grab your pastie and attend me in the library.” Hunt winked at Cook and left the room.
Marcus came through the doorway, swallowing the last of his treat. “What do you need, my lord?”
Hunt waved to the seat in front of his desk. “I need you to contact your man at Melrose’s house and work out a date he will leave the back door unlocked.”
“Any particular day?”
“Nothing specific but give me a day or two to work things out.”
* * *
Diana joined Hunt in her drawing room where he waited to escort her on a drive through Hyde Park. It was the fashionable hour for members of the ton to see and be seen.