‘Best to go to her,’ Miriam said. ‘Paulette can stay here with Mr Gregor just in case Makepeace puts his ear to the door.’ Both Gregor and Paulette looked enthusiastic about that suggestion, Lina noted. ‘Katy and I can cover both ends of the corridor—we’ll say we’ve come out for more wine or something if Makepeace or one of his bullies comes along.’
In the event they reached Aunt Clara’s door without any alarms other than a patron chasing a squealing girl out of one room and into another. Lina scratched on the panels and after a moment the key turned and the door opened.
‘Lina!’ She was in her aunt’s arms, both of them sobbing, hardly aware of Quinn behind her propelling them both firmly into the room and locking the door behind them.
It took a while for both of them to regain their composure, but eventually she was able to introduce Quinn.
‘Of course, the new Lord Dreycott. Thank you so much for taking care of Lina,’ Aunt Clara murmured, turning her handsome blue eyes on him. ‘I was so grateful to Simon for taking her in. I received the letter you sent to Cook, my dear, but I haven’t been able to get anything out. That wretched man watches like a hawk and I did not dare do anything to give away your hiding place.
‘I am never going to forgive him for what he has done to you,’ she added fiercely. ‘To sell you to Tolhurst like that and then for this to happen!’
‘It was Makepeace’s idea to introduce Celina to Sir Humphrey?’ Quinn asked.
‘Of course it was! Do you think I would do such a thing to my niece? The swine took control when I was so ill and forced her by threatening me and everyone here. He knew that her only role here was as my companion and to keep the books, but he threatened all of us, so she felt she had to obey him.’
There was silence as Clara twisted her handkerchief between her hands. Lina looked at Quinn. ‘I am sorry,’ he said, directly to her. There was regret and a sort of anger in his eyes. ‘So sorry.’
‘I had lied to you,’ she said, meeting his gaze, holding it. ‘I understand.’ She hated that he had misjudged her, but she understood why, admired him for his immediate apology. A lesser man would have justified what he had thought, what he had said, but Quinn was too honest for that. Perhaps it was why she loved him, that fierce honesty.
Aunt Clara was looking puzzled at the exchange and her frown deepened as Quinn turned back to her. ‘How much do you owe Makepeace?’
‘A thousand pounds. He controls one-tenth.’
‘Would you prefer a different investor, Madam? Myself, for example? I would be a sleeping partner—I have no desire to interfere with your management of the establishment.’
‘You? Yes, of course,’ Aunt Clara said, an incredulous smile spreading across her face. ‘But how would you make him sell?’
‘You cannot,’ Lina interrupted. ‘Just think what an outcry it would make if it became known! Lord Dreycott, part-owner of a brothel? You cannot afford more scandal if you wish to re-establish yourself in society, Quinn.’
‘Why should it become known? And besides, the name of a front-company would be on the papers. It would take a determined investigation to find the truth and why should anyone bother?’
‘But how will you persuade him? He enjoys running a brothel.’
‘Gregor and I have friends who, shall we say, walk on the shady side of the street. And they have been hard at work for us for several days. It seems Makepeace has been involved in transactions that verge on the treasonous and I think he would be very glad to take a thousand pounds and the opportunity to distance himself from them if he is warned that not to do so will result in him being betrayed to the authorities.’
‘It would be a vast relief—’ Clara broke off at the sound of raised voices outside the door, then relaxed when the speakers moved on. ‘To be rid of the loathsome creature would be bliss. But this does not help Lina’s predicament.’
‘That is the next problem,’ Quinn said. ‘Is Reginald Tolhurst an habitué here?’
‘Why, yes. He seems to bear no grudge for the circumstances of his father’s death. I wish he was more prompt in settling his account, I must confess—I suspect he has not inherited much to set beside his debts.’
‘Is he here tonight?’
‘I believe so.’ Aunt Clara got up and opened the door that led to the passageway to her secret gallery. Laying a finger on her lips, she motioned to them to follow and Lina found herself once more in the familiar darkness, peeping down through the grill at the salon below. Makepeace was greeting a group of noisy new arrivals, girls flitted back and forth, for all the world like a flock of exotic butterflies and men lounged, drinking, laughing, joking. ‘There,’ she whispered, pointing and Lina stiffened at the sight of the man who had accused her.
As he stood at her side Quinn slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him. His lips grazed hers, warm, gentle, conveying trust and regret as much as any physical desire. It was so quick she had no time to react before he was leading the way back to the drawing room. Lina felt comforted, strengthened. He believed in her now, even if he would not be able to forgive her for lying to him at the beginning and embroiling him in this scandalous crime at a time when he must, surely, be wanting nothing but social acceptability for himself.
‘I need to get to know him,’ Quinn said. ‘I’ll go down now—will it be safe for Celina to stay with you, Madam?’
‘What about Gregor?’ Lina asked The thought of some time to talk alone with her aunt was bliss, but she could hardly abandon the Russian.
‘I imagine he is getting our money’s worth out of a large bed and the undivided attention of three young ladies,’ Quinn said with a grin that took several years off his age and had her laughing back at him.
‘What a fascinating man,’ her aunt observed when the door closed behind him. ‘I do not blame you for falling for him. I did not know Simon until he was a good thirty years older than your Quinn is now, but I can see him so clearly in his great-nephew.’
‘He isn’t my Quinn,’ Lina protested, but she could hardly deny that she had fallen for him, not with the way Aunt Clara understood her. ‘But I wish he was.’
‘Why is he doing this for you, if he is not?’ Clara asked. ‘I know about the old scandal—he does not need to court more trouble. Are you lovers?’