“I ain’t interested. Off to pastures new.”
“Yes, I heard about your spot of bother. Thought this might help set you up—and give you a spot of revenge into the bargain.”
“Revenge ain’t my game,” Kenny said virtuously.
“Really? But someone’s stuck their nose into your business and set the peelers on you. I happen to know who. And I’ve got the information you need for one last job—help finance your travels, and you can do it at once. She’ll pay up at once, being rich as Croesus. And off you go laughing into the sunset.”
Kenny took a step nearer. “What’s in it for you?”
“I’ll take a quarter only, since it’s to my satisfaction too. Fair?”
“Depends on your information.”
“The woman who foiled and humiliated your man last night is Constance Silver, the madam of the Mayfair brothel. You must have heard it. Costs an arm and a leg just to get over the door—which is, I’m told, only four down from the scene of your man’s, er, failure.”
“What’s she to me?” Kenny demanded.
Madly smiled with some malice. “Currently masquerading as Mrs. Grey, the wife of the shipping magnate. Society doesn’t know who she is. I doubthedoes, the doting fool. Either way, she’ll pay not to have her name plastered all over the newspapers. So will he. Allyouhave to do is turn up with me. I’ll get you in and play the innocent while you do what you do best. You can be out of the country by morning.”
Kenny thought about it. And he wasn’t a fast thinker.
“Wait,” he said at last, and brushed past Madly to go up to the attic.
Madly waited, his smile crooked. It was, he reflected, his only way into Constance Silver’s establishment. And oh, the carnage he could cause once he was there…
Kenny emerged, his coat fatter with documents, and ran down the stairs. “Let’s do it, then. You can get your quarter.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Idon’t trustMadly,” Constance said abruptly to Solomon during a quiet moment.
They were both in the upper salon of the establishment, entertaining guests. It was still the early part of the evening, though the daylight had faded.
“Neither would I, if the matter did not concern Jacintha.”
“But if Kenny vanishes,” Constance insisted, “so does any danger of her exposure. Madly will just warn him—if he does anything at all—and use our agreement to get into this house.”
He caught her gaze, which was anxious behind her social smile. “It isn’t like you not to allow someone the benefit of the doubt.”
“I’ve met men like him all my life,” Constance said. “Even before we heard about Jacintha, I knew what he was. Keeping his mouth shut about the past is not the same as making an effort or forgoing an imagined pleasure.”
“He gets under your skin,” Solomon observed. “Why?”
Constance sighed but didn’t drop her gaze. “Because he tempted me once. On a personal level, when I was young and lonely. Not enough to overthrow my instincts, but enough to regret them occasionally. That always annoyed me.”
It would annoy Solomon, filling him with rampaging jealousy, if he let it. But he wasn’t a schoolboy, and he understood her past and her present.
He brushed his fingers against hers in a deliberate caress, felt their instant response. “Why?” he said gently. “You’re only human. And thereissomething likeable about him, when he remembers.”
“You trust him,” she accused.
“Not entirely,” Solomon admitted. “But if he can find Kenny, I think he’ll do as we agreed.”
“Maybe tonight is too soon,” Constance fretted. “After all, four of us and the Metropolitan Police couldn’t find him during the day.”
“I don’t think so.” Solomon nodded toward the salon door. Max was making his way purposefully toward them through the chatting, flirting couples.
“Two gentlemen at the door, madam,” he said to Constance. “They have no cards but say they’re invited. One of them gave the name Madly.”
