He lifted his chin to indicate another rider, near the Hyde Park Gate, watching us. I recognized the portly figure of Lord Alvanley, astride a big roan. I bowed in his direction, and he returned the greeting, but he did not urge his horse forward. Not joining us, then. Apparently, this conversation with George was to be private.

“I am glad to have found you here alone,” he said, compounding my sense that our meeting was not just happenstance. “I have come across some information that may involve you and your sister.”

“Indeed?” I prompted, trying to keep the wariness from my voice.

“Is it true that you have Lady Hester Belford staying with you?”

I had not expected such a blunt question. I stared at him for a long moment—too long—then busied myself with my reins. I had thought we had managed to keep the existence of our guests quiet, since most of society had already left the city for their estates. Then again, the Prince Regent had delayed going to Brighton due to the war with America and so a small number of his cabinet and entourage were still in London. How much did George actually know? Had he heard about Julia and me rescuing stolen children a month ago or liberating women from an asylum?

“Whoever told you that?” I finally asked.

He smiled across at me but said nothing.

I had always had my suspicions about George Brummell: a man so close to the Prince Regent would be in a prime position to gather intelligence. I also knew for a fact that underneath all that frippery and pleasure-seeking was a fine, strategic mind. The Home Office would, no doubt, pay well to know the activities of an unpredictable royal and the factional lords around him. And since the idea of informing upon one’s own regent and nobility was far too French for any British official—the bloody Terror being still so raw in all our minds—I was sure such a role would be designated “custodial” rather than espionage.

We walked on. Leonardo leaned his big head over and mouthed at the black’s bridle but got no response. He shook his head, snorting. I understood his frustration.

“What if Lady Hester was in fact staying with us?” I finally asked in my best nonchalant manner.

“If she were,” George said, “then I would mention that Lord Deele, the lady’s brother, is aware that she is no longer in the town of King’s Lynn and is making inquiries.”

I digested this for a few paces. George seemed to know a great deal about Hester’s situation. Did he also know about the illicit return of her other brother, Lord Evan, from the penal colony in Australia, and his involvement in our activities? Tempting to ask, but a question would be offering up information to a man whose motivations I did not fully understand.