I couldn’t see his face, but the elegantly lounging figure straightened up with a jerk. ‘Hell.’
‘So I thought a little pretence was in order. The next time someone voices such thoughts aloud in their hearing they’ll say, Franklin? Never. Did you see the way he was plastered to that American cousin of his? If she is his cousin…’
‘You know? I mean – ’
‘Yes, I know. And it is none of my business and I don’t care what turns you on.’
‘Turns me…’
‘Arouses you. Your sexual preferences are no business of mine.’ I think I could feel his blush across the carriage. ‘So, what did you discover?’ I asked.
James cleared his throat, searching for his composure, I presume. ‘No-one would admit to seeing Arabella at any of Welney’s little affairs and I do not think they were lying to me.’
‘No, I agree. I think he is testing suitable marriage partners. They have to be well-bred, innocent and well-dowered – but the hypocrite wants to make certain they are good girls who will not stray. If they sneak out and turn up as invited, then he’ll cross them off his list. He is after Arabella for a wife, not to casually ravish her. He had already seen her at a masquerade. If she had accepted his invitation then he would have lost all interest and from what he said to me, the masquerade might be quite enough to condemn her as unsuitable anyway.’
‘He would be interested in her money, though. He sails close to the wind, always has,’ James said thoughtfully. The carriage slowed and stopped. ‘We are back.’
He helped me down and we walked across the entrance courtyard arm in arm.
‘Evening, Mr James. Evening, Miss Lawrence.’ The porter touched the brim of his tall hat as we passed through the entrance of the main house and out into the Ropewalk behind with its double row of pleached limes and the doors to the individual apartments on either side, like little terraced houses in a very quiet street. Just outside this tranquil sanctuary was a city teeming with life, danger, dirt and somewhere within it, perhaps, a very frightened young woman.
Chapter Thirteen
Lucian was reading in front of the fire when we got in, a branch of candles on a table at his side. He looked totally relaxed but I had the indefinable sense that he had been pacing about and had only sat down when he heard us come in.
‘Any luck?’ He reached over and tugged the bell-pull. ‘We might as well have Garrick in to hear this, saves bringing him up to date later.’
They listened in silence as we went through the evening. I recounted my conversations with Welney and with Lady Collinson and James reported to whom he had spoken and the negative reports of recent sightings of any innocent young ladies, let alone Arabella.
I explained what I thought Welney was about and Lucian gave a bark of laughter. ‘The old hypocrite!’
‘Very amusing,’ I said sourly. ‘Not so amusing for whoever finds herself married to him.’
‘We are eliminating possibilities, but we are not moving forward,’ Lucian said. He slumped – elegantly, naturally, the man never seemed to do anything without grace – over his brandy glass on the table and studied the amber depths. ‘She is not at the house, dead or alive. Welney was courting her, but only if she remained a pure young lady he could rely on not to stray after marriage. If she had risen to the bait and attended one of his parties he would have crossed her off his shopping list and she was probably off it anyway because of the masquerade.’
Garrick cleared his throat. ‘Unless, if she did such a thing, he might, shall I say, take advantage of her and then… discard her.’
‘Or one of his friends might,’ James said grimly.
‘Welney did not seem very interested in innocence. Not in a perverted kind of way,’ I offered. ‘He might be a dreadful rake but I am not convinced he is getting off on deflowering virgins.’
Garrick turned a pleasant shade of puce. James looked as though he was taking mental notes of my vocabulary.
‘There was a note from Cottingham while you were out,’ Lucian said, picking up a piece of paper from the side table. ‘His Runner has not come up with anything at all yet.’
‘More negatives.’ I searched for something encouraging before we gave way to complete gloom. ‘At least a body hasn’t turned up. That is good news, surely?’
‘Oh hell.’ Lucian sat up abruptly. I saw James turn pale. ‘Do you think the Runner thought to check with the River Police?’
He was looking at Garrick, but it was James, even grimmer than his brother, who said, ‘The morgue?’
Lucian re-read the note. ‘He says the man has been enquiring at the terminals for all the coaching routes out of London, in all directions, and the livery stables. Nothing about the river.’
‘Then that must be investigated.’
‘I will go, my lord.’
‘No. Thank you, Garrick, but I will,’ Lucian said.