“Well it is all true to some degree,” Solomon said. “Do you not have many facets?”
For an instant, something very like discontent flickered across Cordell’s face. “No. I am my father’s heir, a good son and a jolly good fellow all round. Ask anyone.”
“And if I were to ask you?”
“You already did.”
“Then allow me to be more specific. What exactly are you heir to? Land?”
“Yes.”
“Private wealth?”
“Yes. I am a gentleman of leisure who employs business managers to look after his interests. No trade tarnishes my blue-blooded hands. Nor profession.”
“Do you want one?”
He shrugged. “I have no interests and less aptitude, so no.”
Solomon smiled faintly. “I believe that is the first lie you have told me.”
Cordell reared back in outrage, his eyes hardening. Then an unexpected bark of laughter broke from him. “You are quite good at this, aren’t you? Yes, it was a lie, about the interest, at least, if not the aptitude. I remain untested. My father is very averse to risk—financially, socially, and every other way you can think of. Failure, you might say, can never be contemplated.”
“Failure in what?”
Cordell hesitated, betraying uncertainty for the first time since Solomon had met him. He shrugged. “In my case…occasionally, when I’m bored or discontented, I consider going into politics. Amusing, is it not?”
“Not so far. What are you discontented with?”
“The way things are run in this country, and in others. With the poverty that is all around us, only a few hundred yards from where we walk now. With crime and violence. With a foreign policy so out of date that we could easily go to war over something that is not our business and would be better negotiated by all parties concerned.”
“Meaning that what kept the peace in Europe after 1815 no longer works in 1853?”
“Exactly.” Cordell smiled ruefully. “My father tells me I don’t know what I’m talking about. And he is right to some degree. I would like to know more.”
“And you have the leisure to learn.”
“But no possibility of using that knowledge.” Cordell waved a hand. “But we have strayed from the point somewhat. My ambitions, or lack of them, don’t really help with the murder of my almost-father-in-law.”
“Did he have enemies?”
“Not that I ever heard. Everyone liked him. Amiable man, happy to talk about anything. He even listened to my political ramblings when I’d had one too many glasses of port. He seemed to take me seriously.”
Which implied that other people, including Cordell’s father, did not.
“Was he involved with politics?” Solomon asked.
“No, but he was interested in many things. A good man to converse with, whether on serious matters or amusing ones.”
“Good company,” Solomon said.
“Exactly.” Cordell grimaced. “I shall miss him. Quite aside from Bella’s grief and the possible postponement of our marriage.”
Solomon’s impression of the dead man was growing but still elusive. “You mentioned a mistress. Did Mrs. St. John know about her?”
“If she did, she was a good wife and pretended not to.” Cordell’s eyes widened. “You cannot suspect Jacintha St. John of murder!”
“It often is the spouse, you know,” Solomon said mildly, “and there is a view that poison is a woman’s weapon. But no, I have no real reason to suspect Mrs. St. John. Did you notice him behaving differently in the previous few days or weeks? Did he seem worried or unhappy?”
