Read Online The Peacock Throne by Lisa Karon Richardson - Free Book Online Page B

Lord Danbury and I were just coming from my cousin’s home when you met us.”
    â€œAh, indeed? I suppose that explains such a late night visit.”
    â€œOf course it does.” Anthony pounced on the explanation. “Her aunt is very ill. Lydia was good enough to rush to her family in their hour of need.”
    â€œI suppose that also explains why Miss Garrett had to climb in through a window—her aunt was simply too ill to come down and open the door?” Harting narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, meeting Anthony’s hot gaze. The dandy had disappeared, to be replaced by a man who was no fool. “Listen, Danbury, this is not a game. I want to know why you would crack a rundown coffee house, and I mean every detail.”
    The blood drained from Anthony’s face and hands, already chilly in the crisp air. “What is this about?”
    â€œThat needn’t concern you. What should concern you is the fact that I will call for the beak unless you cooperate.”
    Seething, Anthony clamped his mouth shut.
    Lydia glanced at him and then back at Harting. “What possible interest could you have? Perhaps—”
    Harting smiled in a most unpleasant fashion. “Miss Garrett, I should be the one asking questions, not the reverse.”
    Lydia pursed her lips and regarded the inquisitor with a molten gaze. Quietly she sat back against her seat and folded her hands in her lap.
    Confronted with the brick wall of their silence, Harting changed tack. “Come now, I understand your feelings, and I give you my word of honour that I have no intention of trying to blackmail you with the information. I simply must know what all this means. Ennui is my greatest enemy and this promises to staunch its relentless tide for at least a few hours.”
    The patronizing demeanour was more than Anthony could bear. He half stood in the jostling carriage. “I have no desire to provide your entertainment for the evening.” Blood pulsed in his ears and he snorted like a bull. If someone were to wave something red at him he would likely have charged.
    He felt a tug on his arm. Lydia stood next to him, swaying to keep her balance.
    â€œWe are trying to discover who murdered Lord Danbury’s father and my cousin. Please search for amusement elsewhere. Our work is in deadly earnest.”
    Harting remained seated, but his eyes flicked to Lydia, obviously reevaluating her. “Perhaps I could assist you.” His tone had turned suddenly mild; all its mocking condescension evaporated as if it had never been.
    The carriage jolted hard, dumping Miss Garrett unceremoniously into her seat. Anthony tottered, but Harting placed a steadying grip on his elbow. Anthony wrenched his arm free, preferring to fall rather than allow himself to be assisted by the fop.
    â€œBelieve me, Danbury, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to see your father’s murderer brought to justice.”
    Anthony heard the ring of sincerity in his tone. What did Harting want? After a long moment he resumed his seat. They had little choice. And what would it hurt to tell the fellow what he wanted to know? In the meantime, Anthony would have the chance to find out why he wished to know. Perhaps Harting knew more of the murder than he let on.

    Lydia remained silent and all but forgotten in the dark corner of the carriage as Lord Danbury provided a terse explanation. How had she gotten mixed up in all this? The tension between the two men was so patent it might have been a fourth presence in the landau.
    The horses slowed to a stop before Lord Danbury’s house andthe two gentlemen stepped out. No one turned to assist Lydia from the landau, and she was more than happy to leave it that way for the moment.
    Lord Danbury led the way to his study and ushered his guests inside. “Let’s see what this night’s work has netted.” He pulled the paper-wrapped parcel from beneath his coat and tried to