‘You are mad, both of you. But we are here now, you can tell me later.’
Makepeace was in the salon when they arrived. His smile of welcome faded when Quinn said, ‘A word with you in private, sir?’ but he guided them through to an office and shut the door.
‘You have some complaint, gentlemen?’
‘Not at all. I merely wish to purchase your share in this establishment.’ Quinn could see no merit in beating around the bush.
‘It is not for sale, Mr Arbuthnott. I cannot imagine what can have given you the idea that it was.’ He sat behind his oversized desk like a spider in a corner and eyed them warily.
‘We are both sailing under false colours,’ Quinn remarked. ‘I am Lord Dreycott and you, sir, are Henry Foxton, wanted by the authorities for arms dealing with the enemies of the Crown.’
The man froze. ‘Nonsense. I have my papers in this drawer, letters from my attorney—’
‘And you also have a pistol in there, no doubt. Really, Foxton, do we look that easily gulled? I am insulted. And armed.’ Quinn brought his hand out of his pocket and rested it, and the small pistol it held, on his crossed knee. The man calling himself Makepeace froze. ‘There is no need for drama. I will not betray you to the magistrates if you will take a fair price for your interest here—and disappear.’
‘Why?’ Makepeace blustered. But Quinn could see from the calculation in the small brown eyes that he had already decided to cut his losses.
‘Because I have a fancy for the place and it is an insult that men who have fought for their country should be entertained here by scum like you. I have money and a deed of sale; our business can be dealt with here and now.’
Gregor took the wad of banknotes out of the breast of his coat and tossed them across the desk. Makepeace thumbed through them, his eyes flickering back and forth between the money and the gun. ‘Here.’ Quinn pushed a document across the desk. ‘Drawn up by my attorney today. You take the money and your personal belongings. You leave the keys and you walk away tonight. If you are seen here again, I will have the magistrates on you. Agreed?’
Makepeace looked from the money back to Quinn, then nodded abruptly. He reached for the pen in the standish. ‘Your real name,’ Quinn said softly.
Quinn signed and Gregor witnessed the document. ‘Now,’ Quinn said, handing the pistol to Gregor, ‘you will pack and leave. Give me the keys.’ He held out his hand. ‘My friend will see you out.’ The dark, sly eyes sent him a look of pure venom, but he had to give the man credit for sizing up the situation and knowing when to cut and run, not stay and bluster.
Makepeace pushed a bunch of keys across the desk. ‘Mr Vasiliev will search you before you go,’ Quinn added, getting to his feet. A second key appeared from an inner waistcoat pocket. ‘Thank you. Good evening. I trust we are never going to meet again.’ The look he received in return promised a slow and painful death, but Quinn merely nodded and left the room.
The salon was busy now, warm and fragrant with perfume, powder, the scent of flowers and candle wax. Quinn wove his way through, smiling at the girls he recognised, and made his way upstairs to tap on Madam Deverill’s door.
‘Lord Dreycott!’ She put a hand on his arm and drew him inside. ‘Is anything wrong with Celina?’
‘No, nothing is wrong.’ She did not look well this evening, even frailer than the night before. Knowing that her niece was in London, even closer to danger, could not help. He handed her the papers. ‘These are for you. Makepeace will be leaving very shortly.’
She read them, sinking down on to a chaise as she did so. ‘I am free of him? Truly?’
‘Yes.’ Quinn told her what had happened as he stood by the window, the curtain drawn back a little so he could see the street below. ‘Come, see,’ he said after a few minutes. Light spilled out as the front door opened and the figure of Makepeace emerged on to the pavement, a valise in each hand. Gregor followed, carrying another bag. He signalled for a hackney, bundling both man and bags inside. As he did so two other figures detached themselves from the shadows and entered the vehicle, one on each side. Gregor spoke to the driver and it moved off.
‘What has just happened?’ Madam Deverill asked. ‘You promised him his freedom, but—’
‘I promised not to give him over to the authorities. I said nothing about putting him in the hands of a certain sea captain who is going on a long voyage east. The captain’s an honest man, after a fashion. Makepeace will keep his money, and his life. He may even start a new career, a long way away. I do not like men who seek to make money at the expense of their own countrymen’s lives. He was dealing in weapons with our enemies during the war.’
‘Thank you.’ She turned and took his hands. ‘Thank you so much. You will want to see the figures, of course, so you know how much return you might expect every month—’
‘That is a gift,’ Quinn said, taking the papers from her hand and going to her pretty ormolu desk. He wrote across the bottom and signed it. ‘I intend marrying Celina and I would wish her to have no anxiety about your position.’
Madam Deverill’s thin face went so pale that the subtle macquillage she wore stood out against her skin, then she smiled and held out her hands. ‘I am so happy for you both! You love her, then?’
‘I feel it is only right, given the circumstances, which have, you will agree, compromised her utterly,’ Quinn said, trying not to wince at love. Why did women have to imagine that every man was capable of such softening of the brain? Marriages could be perfectly comfortable without all this damned emotion. He took her hands and dropped a kiss on one.
‘Hardly through your own fault,’ Madam said. ‘I honour you for doing the right thing despite your lack of feeling for her.’
‘I did not say I held Celina in anything but affection and regard,’ Quinn said, unaccountably irritated. He liked Celina. In fact, he was very fond of her, she had spirit and a sense of humour and intelligence. She was loyal and affectionate. She would, he was certain, make a good mother. And she would certainly be passionate in bed. Why should her aunt assume he felt nothing for her if he did not feel love? ‘I must persuade her of that, however.’
‘I wish you every success,’ Madam Deverill said with a faint smile. ‘And I thank you for my freedom from Makepeace.’
‘You will do,’ Quinn said. Lina stood in front of him, once more in her boy’s clothes, her hair concealed by the turban, but without any of the discreet jewels he had given her to wear the night before. ‘Stick to Gregor like glue; if anyone speaks to you, say something in broken English. You’re a servant, remember.’
‘Yes, lord,’ Lina said in imitation of the subservient tone Gregor had used that first night at Dreycott Park.