“I might be Lilly. Who’s asking?” The woman opened her eyes fully. After blinking numerous times, she stared at the hulking figure of Mr Drake. “Well, ain’t you a big fellow.” One could not mistake the admiration in her voice. She glanced at Valentine. “Lord Almighty, have I died and gone to heaven?”
Ava knew how Lilly felt. Valentine was an exceptionally handsome man. But he was her man, and Lilly could put her eyeballs back in their sockets.
“We seek Mr Cassiel,” Valentine said, looking Lilly keenly in the eye.
“He ain’t here.”
Ava forced a smile. “You mean he is out?”
“No, I mean he left this morning and ain’t coming back. Maybe you should ask the dead where he’s gone as they know more than I do.”
Valentine muttered a curse.
The thought of Mr Cassiel roaming free to cause mischief left an empty feeling in Ava’s chest. What if he was at her home in Park Street, threatening her servants, tearing the place apart? What if he stalked Jonathan, watching him, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce? What if he had written to his employer, Mr Fairfax, seeking his assistance?
Ava touched Valentine’s arm. “We must hunt for clues as to his whereabouts,” she said in a hushed voice. “I cannot rest until we understand the part he is playing here.”
Regardless of the fact they were in company, Valentine cupped her cheek. “Rest assured I will do everything in my power to bring you peace.”
How she wished they were alone. She would kiss him deeply to show her appreciation, to thank him for being strong and dependable.
Valentine turned to the woman ogling them at the door. “How much to grant me access to your home? How much to tell me everything you know about the man named Cassiel?”
A smile touched the woman’s lips.
Money opened doors. Anyone who worked for a living understood the need to forgo loyalty if it meant filling their stomachs and keeping warm come winter.
“His name ain’t Cassiel. I can tell you that for free.” She wrapped her finger around a lock of blonde hair and cast a coy grin. “Ten pounds, and you can rummage through what’s left of his belongings.”
So Mr Dariell was right when he accused the mystic of using a fake identity.
“Agreed.” Valentine retrieved a note from his pocket. “Here’s twenty pounds. I want you to show me his belongings, tell me what you know of his movements these last few days.”
Lilly accepted the note. She checked the amount and then hastened away with her windfall, leaving the door open, an invitation to enter.
The apartment comprised of a large room with a rickety poster bed in one corner, a wing-back chair flanking the fire and a small table with two wooden chairs. The place was so cold one might freeze to death in their bed. The material panels hanging from the bed frame were once blue and now looked a dirty, muted grey. Washing—a chemise, a man’s shirt and white stockings—hung on a rope tied from one bedpost to a nail in the wall.
A small basket of wood by the fire drew Ava’s attention. The broken pieces looked familiar. She picked one up and examined the grain.
“I told him they were too good to burn,” Lilly said, locking the money away in a box she kept under a floorboard near the bed. “I was supposed to take them to the pawnbroker, but he smashed the pretty box when he came home last night.”
“The vanity box?” Ava’s heart missed a beat.
Lilly nodded. “He burnt the sloped desk, too.”
“Do you know how he came by the items?” Valentine said.
Lilly shrugged. “They’ve been here for a week or more.”
A hard lump formed in Ava’s throat. Her stomach lurched at the thought she may have been at home asleep while Mr Cassiel crept around her house. Her mother kept her private papers inside the writing slope. Had Cassiel been hunting for the licence?
“He took most things with him,” Lilly continued. “Though he left the morbid clothes he wore when entertaining the nabobs with his tricks.” She gave a curt nod. “No offence.”
“So you agree the man is a fraud,” Mr Drake said, unsurprised.
“He’s an entertainer, like me. Oh, he knows how to put on a good show.”
“You’re an actress?” Valentine said as he wandered about the room, examining the threadbare furnishings.