All that would end soon. His pay as a Bow Street investigator would not run to keeping a horse of his own. And he had no idea how much longer he might be employed there. Even now he should be searching for new lodgings less expensive than the rooms provided by his patron, but where was he to find the time?

Easing the gelding back in stages to a walk, he settled into the saddle once more. The horse puffed a bit, but then again, so did Daniel. He used the end of his scarf to dry the wind-tears from his eyes.

Within the hour, he approached the gates of Lockewood Hall, seat of the Earls of Rotherhide. The current earl, Viscount Coatsworth’s grandfather, resided here. According to Agatha Montgomery, the earl had not come to London this Season, preferring his country estate. Coatsworth had reported that he was frail and infirm, being of an advanced age, and had been unwell during the fall and winter.

The hall’s gates of iron, with massive curls and bars held up by brick pillars, stood open. Beyond, a drive of pale rock, precisely raked, curved toward a massive, symmetrical house. Twin towers anchored the corners, and what seemed like dozens of windows ranked one above the other in the red brick.

A black carriage stood before the front door, a pair of grays waiting patiently in the traces. A servant clipped box hedges near the entrance, and Daniel pulled up nearby and leapt to the ground.

“Good day. My name is Mr. Swann. I’ve come from the Bow Street Magistrate’s Court to see the earl.”

The man continued to snip without looking up. “No visitors.” He cleared his throat and spit into the bushes. “His lordship in’t receiving.”

Daniel waved toward the carriage. “Clearly, someone is here. I’ve come a long way, and it is a matter of some urgency.”

“That in’t a visitor—that’s the doctor.” The gardener shrugged and spit again, his blades never stopping. “You can ask at the house, but the answer will be the same. He han’t had no visitors since his grandson came by last week. And left right smart, he did. Din’t even stay the night.”

Coatsworth was not here. Poor Agatha. The easy answer had proven wrong.

“And he left quickly?”

“S’wat I said. Came, marched inside, came out, and left.” The man shrugged and nodded, clip, clip, clip.

“Where are the stables? I’d like to tend my horse.”

“Round back on t’ left, but you won’t be here long enough to need that. You could just tie up right here. If Hillman lets you in to see the earl, his lordship’ll probably send you away quicker than he did his own grandson. He’s cross-grained always, but more so now that he’s ailing.”