He was raising the issue of thecomteandcomtessehimself. How interesting. Perhaps he really had been sent to find out what had happened and was coming to them as a likely source of information, knowing they kept abreast of events?
‘Oh? Do you have anyone particular in mind?’ asked Dora.
‘You must have seen it– the horrible double murder of two French exiles.’
‘When did this happen?’ asked Jacob, looking puzzled.
‘Last month. The Comte and Comtesse D’Antraigues.’ Percy was watching Jacob’s face closely as he was aware Jacob was not the actor of the pair.
Jacob frowned as if consulting his memory. Not bad, my love, thought Dora. ‘I believe I did read something about that– but Dora and I were in the north country at the time, enjoying a holiday at my cottage in Cumberland. It’s a beautiful area. Have you ever visited?’
‘I can’t say that I have. Is it not a place where it rains all the time? I don’t have the tolerance for wetness that you English have.’
‘It is damp, that is true, but we get the reward of green hills, waterfalls and lakes. It may not be as grand as the Alps but it is more congenial to human existence. You might live among these wonders without fearing an avalanche. It is favoured by many of our men of literature– Wordsworth and Coleridge to name but two.’
Percy was not going to accept the change of subject without putting up a fight. He was here to gather information and wanted to herd them back to his theme. ‘You really didn’t take note of the case? There can’t be many murders of this kind even in London.’
‘That is true. Normally I would be as interested but if it happened in July that coincided with the death of my father,’ said Jacob. ‘My mind was not on gossip.’ He was playing his most pompous self. Dora would have to be careful she didn’t give the game away by smiling.
‘Ah yes. I had read…’ Percy changed tack. ‘I apologise. I should have offered my condolences. You sit here in black andyet I did not enquire or even recall that the viscount had passed. I do so now. My condolences on your loss. Your brother has succeeded to the title, of course?’
‘He has.’
‘And you are content with the change? It must come as a blow to be demoted to the brother and not the son of a viscount.’ Percy was probing to see if he could find any cracks, but it was a half-hearted attempt, thought Dora, not up to his usual subtle line of questioning.
Jacob’s chin shot up, the Sandys’ stubbornness in his profile. ‘I find your line of questioning impertinent, sir. I am not happy that my father has died. What son would be? But as for the rest, it is the natural order of things. The new viscount will doubtless be a credit to the family.’
Mischief peeped out of Percy’s expression. If he were a god, he would be Loki, Dora decided, the Norse trickster. ‘Despite having a mistress who objects to your marriage?’ he asked.
So that was why he led them down this path! Dora jabbed her ham with her fork to express her frustration, imagining it a vulnerable part of Percy’s body.
Jacob gave Percy his best supercilious stare, his tone bored. ‘I thought you were more sophisticated than that,monsieur. You disappoint me. My brother’s amours are not a subject I air in the presence of a lady.’
Percy chuckled. ‘Forgive me. I am being impolite, and I know that is a worse sin in English society than… well… sin.’
He was an amusing sparring partner, to be sure. There was movement on the stage, giving Dora a chance to shift them off this subject. She greatly preferred not to discuss the murders with Percy, but it was interesting that he was– or was feigning to be– ignorant. ‘Look, the performers are gathering. Have you seen Madame Catalani perform before, sir?’
‘An exquisite.’ Percy kissed the tips of his fingers. ‘Italians so often are.’
Dora flattened the concert bill out on the linen tablecloth, consulting the programme. ‘I’ve heard the Portuguese baritone is excellent, but the Spaniard is too nasal.’
Jacob raised a brow. ‘Oh? Who told you this, my dear?’
‘I was visiting friends at Covent Garden,’ said Dora. ‘The doorman is very well informed.’
‘Ah yes, the men no one notices but who see all. I will look forward then to…’ Percy checked the list of songs, ‘“É Delícia Ter Amor” and visit the necessary during “Quando el bien que adoro”.’
‘You should stay and form your own opinion,’ said Dora. ‘I believe they will be singing with the ladies. I’ve heard the Russian is an excellent alto.’
A spark of interest lit Percy’s eyes. ‘Yekatarina Petrovna? Yes, her reputation goes before her. I was told that she was a favourite performer in Dresden for a time. Have you met her?’ He was probing again. The fact that he knew about Petrovna’s presence in Dresden was evidence that he had done his research into the D’Antraigues’s life before London. Additionally, that he’d offered Petrovna’s name freely suggested she was not a French agent, or not one he controlled. Dora and Jacob had experienced the French government running rival intelligence operations in England before, so they could not eliminate that possibility.
‘I don’t recall. One meets so many people and attends many concerts. Has she been in the country long?’ asked Jacob, answering for Dora.
‘Only since July,’ said Percy. ‘Or so I heard.’
‘Then it is unlikely our paths have crossed. We have been out of town,’ said Jacob. ‘As I told you.’
‘Yes, yes, of course. I adore Russian women– so fiery and always speaking excellent French. It is the language of the court, of course. I was hoping for an introduction, but I must look elsewhere.’ Percy lifted a slice of ham from the platter, looking to see if the light really did pass through the wafer-thin slices as was their reputation. ‘How do they do that? Is there a special machine?’
