“Let’s take him for a short talk in private,” Constance murmured. It was important for the business that she be seen here, but she did not want to stay late. She had thought she would miss this place, the company, the friendships, her lovely, private rooms upstairs, but she didn’t. Or, at least, not nearly as much as she’d imagined. The new house, full of Solomon, had become home very quickly.
As Constance and Solomon approached, Hildie strolled off toward the bishop who was her regular.
“So how would I make a donation to this establishment?” Cordell asked as they led him from the room and across the hall to the currently empty small salon.
Solomon closed the door. “In any form you wish. A few coins, a bank draft, banknotes—all are welcome.”
“And I can do this without being—er…a member of your club?”
“Of course.”
“And do you report on how my money is used?”
“Indeed we will. As a formal charity, it has only just begun, but we now have a board with a duty to oversee accounts and so on. Basically, donations are kept separate from our other sources of income, and are spent on education, apprenticeships, suitable clothing and equipment, and rents to give girls a start in decent lodgings if they need them.”
“And your own salary, Mrs. Grey?”
“Oh, no,” Constance replied. “My income is quite separate. You need not rush into anything, you know. We shan’t keep you here until you pay up.”
He blushed. “I never suspected such a thing. But this is all new to me. I have never come across quite such an establishment before.”
“I don’t believe there is another,” Constance said brazenly. “We are unique. Shall we sit and be comfortable? Have you learned what you wanted to this evening?”
“Some, certainly, in unexpected areas.”
“Mr. St. John was not a member here,” Constance said. “He never visited in any capacity.”
“I never truly thought he did,” Cordell said. “He was an innocent, in many ways. Unworldly. To be honest, I doubt he even knew what this house was, or if he had heard of its existence. Which makes it even odder, for me, that he was found on your doorstep.”
Solomon sat down beside Constance. “I imagine you are acquainted with many people around Grosvenor Square. Have you ever heard of any ill feeling toward the inhabitants of this establishment?”
Cordell looked slightly surprised, but thought about it before shaking his head. “No, I don’t think so. A few men regard it as something of an amusing joke, but no one ever admits to seeing it from the inside.” His lips twitched. “Though some clearly do.” He glanced at Constance and then back to Solomon. “To be frank,” he said, “I did want to speak to you about poor St. John’s murder. It troubles his family deeply, and I know you are curious on your own account to know what happened. I daresay you don’t like this household living under police suspicion either.”
With difficulty, Constance kept her face as politely expressionless as possible. “The situation is not good for anyone. Least of all for the two dead men.”
“Exactly. Which leads me to my other reason for coming. You intrigued me, Mr. Grey, when you told me of your inquiry business. I would like to employ your firm to discover the truth about the murder of Terrence St. John.”
*
“Why do youthink he did that?” Constance asked suddenly. She and Solomon were lying in bed together, wrapped around each other in those peaceful moments before sleep overwhelmed them. Or, at least, it should have done. For some reason, she felt wide awake.
Solomon’s eyes didn’t open. “What? Employed us?”
“Yes.”
“Probably because he thinks he can control what comes out of our investigation.”
Constance propped herself up on one elbow. “He thinks he’sboughtus?”
Solomon pulled her down again and kissed her forehead and mouth. “He hasn’t signed the contract yet. I’ll make sure he understands the limits of our loyalty to our clients.”
“It isn’t just that… Whom is he afraid for? It must be his betrothed, Bella.”
“Not necessarily. Families tend to rise and fall together. The ruin of one affects them all. And he could just want their innocence proved beyond doubt.”
“Do you think he would jilt Bella if we couldn’t prove that?”
“Such disloyalty would not look good for him either—unless we find proof that she or her mother or brother committed murder, in which case, the world might well be more understanding. His father appears to be a stickler for convention, but young Cordell is reaching for his own independence.”
