Murder in Grosvenor Square by Ashley Gardner Read Free Book Online

Gareth did not mean he would look for a friend in a man similar to you. He meant you specifically. You are his new confidant, the one he will turn to now, not me.”
    Oh, Good God. I thought of Travers hailing me in the park this morning, appearing at an hour when I’d never seen him before. He’d sought me out on the Strand last week, then looked stunned but pleased when I’d asked him to second me. I truly wanted the drink.
    I’d observed such occurrences in the army—I’d seen, time and again, younger lads develop a hero-worshiping interest in competent officers or good sergeants. The interest usually faded in time, or else either the lad or hero was killed in battle. Not pleasant memories.
    “I am flattered,” I said—more because it was the polite thing to say than because I, indeed, felt flattered. “But I am far too busy these days to cultivate a new friendship. Travers will tire of the idea, turn to you again, and all will be well.”
    “No,” Leland said with more emphasis, and even triumph. “I am at the end with Gareth Travers. I told him you’d want nothing to do with him.”
    I held on to my patience. “I didn’t mean it quite like that, Leland …”
    “Gareth is a fool,” Leland said. “You have always been my friend, always understanding. Always there for me.” He reached out and clasped my hand. “I told Gareth, in a way he would not mistake, that I had met you first.”
    I stared, nonplussed, at Leland’s soft but determined face. I was a very slow thinker, in many ways, and I could not fathom how I had become the bone of contention between two lads who’d been friends since they’d been mites at school.
    That is, I was slow, until Leland caressed the back of my hand with his thumb. The scales, as they say, fell from my eyes, and the world became crystal clear.

Chapter Five
     
    “Leland,” I said sharply.
    Leland’s thumb drifted across the sensitive skin on the back of my hand, a gentle contact, tender even. He dropped his gaze to where he touched me.
    My ideas of his innocence evaporated like boiling mist under sunshine. Here, in Grenville’s private sanctuary, I was confronted with the truth.
    “You have always been kind to me, Captain,” Leland was saying. “Not disparaging, like so many.” He gave me a shy look from under his lashes. “Gareth told me the tale you gave him—of the two soldiers.”
    I couldn’t breathe under the bath of cold water he’d just thrown on me. “Two soldiers?”
    “Who were lovers,” Leland said. “And did better in battle for that. He told me how you admired them.”
    Oh, for God’s sake.
    I closed a hard grip over Leland’s fingers and firmly moved his hand from mine. “Leland,” I said clearly. “You are mistaken.”
    He stared at me, confusion in his young eyes. “But … Gareth said …”
    “Then Mr. Travers was mistaken.”
    Leland’s confusion grew, his pupils narrowing to black dots of panic. His chest rose with a harsh breath, and his face suffused with red. “He told me … He told me …” He began to gasp.
    “Sit down,” I said, my voice firming.
    Leland’s breath grew wheezing, but he didn’t obey. I seized him and marched him back to the leopard chair, pushing him down into it. Leland clutched the gilt and ebony arms, his breathing rapid and clogged. I returned to the console table and poured another brandy.
    Leland didn’t want to take the glass, but I waved it under his nose until the brandy’s fumes made him jump. He seized the goblet then and drank down its contents in desperation. His gasping quieted, but his face remained blotchy red.
    While I waited for him to calm, I thought back over my two-year acquaintanceship with Leland and Gareth Travers, and saw things in a different light.
    Leland and Travers, inseparable. Travers dressing far beyond his means, likely funded in whole by Leland, as Donata had speculated. Grenville had once told me of rumors of more than friendship between the two young men,