“And if what we need is whatever you are hiding?”
“I have kept back nothing that is relevant.”
“Are you the best judge of that?”
She smiled serenely. “Yes, I am.”
Along with his frustration at that blind confidence came the thought,Where the devil is Constance when I need her?
*
Constance, in fact,was at the dressmaker’s.
In an effort to learn more about St. John’s family, the women in particular, she was seeking a source of gossip. She began with her own favored modiste, who had not dealt with Mrs. St. John, but directed her to a more likely establishment. It was at the fourth of those that she finally found what she sought.
Madame Veronique herself clearly recognized a lucrative customer when she saw one, for she stopped an assistant from rushing up to Constance and approached her in person.
“Is madame seeking something in particular?” she asked. Her accent was very subtly French. Genuine or not, it was perfectly done. “Whatever it is, we shall have something uniquely ravishing for such an elegant lady.”
Constance spared her a glance—a smartly but modestly dressed woman of some forty years, her figure trim, her manner submissive, and her eyes hard and assessing. A businesswoman who had struggled upward from very little and had no intention of going back down. Constance understood that well enough.
“Nothing in particular,” she said. “I am merely considering a subtle change in style and looking about for inspiration. Someone recommended you, so I thought I would look in.”
“May I know who?” asked Veronique, preening slightly.
Constance shrugged carelessly. “I can’t remember. One of my friends with whom I was discussing the matter… Mrs. St. John, perhaps? Yes, I believe it was, for you are making all the gowns for her daughter’s wedding, are you not?”
She had used the same line three times that afternoon, but it finally struck home.
Madame Veronique’s eyes positively sparkled. “Indeed, Mrs. St. John is one of my most valued customers.”
“Not soimmediatelyvaluable, I imagine,” Constance said, minutely examining the gorgeous golden silk evening gown in front of her, “if the wedding is postponed.”
“Oh, but it is not,” the dressmaker said smugly. “Such an appalling tragedy, of course, but madame and mademoiselle come for their next fitting tomorrow. Madame confides in me that her late husband would wish the wedding to go ahead without postponement. Mademoiselle persuaded her.”
“I am so glad for their sakes,” Constance said. “You know, this gown is gorgeous, but I rather doubt it is my color, and the style is too busy for me, with all those flounces and trims…”
“You will be surprised, madame. You will carry the style most beautifully, and I have other colored silks that might please you more. Why don’t you try it?”
She condescended to try the gown and let Veronique fuss about her for some time while Constance flitted from subject to subject before bringing the conversation back to the St. Johns, wondering how many gowns there were to be for Miss St. John’s trousseau.
“At least Mr. St. John can’t balk at the numbers and veto any,” she added callously.
Veronique didn’t bat an eyelid. “He never did,” she said simply. “He liked to be generous.” Perhaps she caught Constance’s look, for she added hastily, “To his family.”
“Such a kind man,” Constance agreed. “Did you know him well?”
If she had hoped to surprise a betrayal of an illicit liaison between St. John and the dressmaker, she was disappointed.
“I never met him,” Veronique said. “I know him only through the affectionate chatter of his daughter and his wife.”
“I do like to hear of affectionate families,” Constance said. “Do you know, you are right about this gown? I really can carry this style. Perhaps you could show me the other silks you mentioned.”
Unfortunately, another customer entered the shop, and though Veronique was happy to leave this person to her assistant, there was too much possibility of being overheard to hope for further confidences.
Still, having ordered the gown in a bold scarlet silk for an extortionate amount of money, Constance returned to the Silver and Grey offices with new theories buzzing around her head.
Catching sight of Janey at the end of Chandos Street, Constance alighted early from the hackney to greet her.
