“God no, though I’m sure the old bat was in for the kill. Look at the maid.”
Dear God, could it be that simple? “Veronique?”
“Never heard of her,” Madly said blankly.
Solomon almost groaned, for this time, it sounded like truth. Still, the maid could have told Veronique…
“Did you know Terrence St. John?” he asked on impulse.
Madly shrugged. “Sure. I didn’t move in his circles, but I knew who he was. Amiable cove, preferred the more refined aspects of life, music and learning. Not this”—he waved an arm to encompass not only the room but the entire lifestyle—“filth.”
“You don’t have to live in filth,” Solomon said.
“I don’t have to live,” Madly retorted. “You’re in danger of boring me.”
“Sol,” David murmured.
At almost the same moment Solomon looked up, two men playing cards shouted out, “Kenny!” and Solomon saw a large, floridly handsome man stroll across the room as though he owned it.
Surely, Veronique’s husband.
Chapter Sixteen
The big mangreeted as Kenny wore an expensive dark suit, with what looked a very fine wool overcoat over his arm. He walked with a swagger, soaking up the fawning admiration of his acquaintances, his violent face smug as though he realized the honor he was conferring on this squalid den of iniquity by his mere presence. A pace or two behind him came his friends or minions, lean, whippet-like men who looked both malnourished and vicious.
Two men at the largest drinking table in the middle of the room—which also boasted the most comfortable chairs—sprang up and effaced themselves to let the great man sit at what was, presumably, his customary place. Kenny enthroned himself without acknowledging their courtesy.
Solomon glanced back at Madly and found the man watching him with a sardonic curl to his sensual lips.
“A friend of yours?” Solomon asked.
“Why, do you want an introduction to the newly great man?” Madly’s contempt was more pronounced now, though whether for Kenny or Solomon and David was not clear.
“Newly?” Solomon prompted him. “Who is he?”
“Minor criminal like so many around here, hired muscle like those on the doors—until a year or so ago, when he came into a wife with some money.”
“Does he live around here?”
“Not anymore. He has a place near Bond Street, so he says. What’s your interest in the great man?”
“Is his wife called Veronique?”
Madly’s eyes changed, though Solomon could not quite read their expression. “That name again. Is he responsible for the troubles of this lady of yours?” He spoke very softly.
“He’s one of several possibilities.”
Madly stared at him, then barked out a laugh. “As am I? Who the devilareyou two?”
Solomon passed a card across the table.
Madly looked at it, then at David, who smiled. “Not me. I’m only here for pleasure.”
“This foiled elopement of yours,” Madly said. “The father would never have told. And a duchess vouched for the young lady herself.”
“Which leaves the maid.”
“And the husband. An honorable woman would have told her husband.”
