He chuckled. “Very diplomatically asked. Let me just say that when I heard that a woman met with a fence in your club, I became curious. I reached out.”
A sudden chill iced my core. “Members are using my club to meet with a dealer in stolen goods?” I thought I ran a tight ship. I had a doorman, footmen who kept an eye out for trouble. It hardly seemed likely that clandestine meetings with criminals were occurring in the Tea Room.
He nodded. “And I assumed you knew and were taking a cut of the proceeds.”
I fear I gaped like a fish. I had been accused of many things in my lifetime, but never criminal behavior. “That’s absurd,” I finally managed to splutter out. “I would never.”
Mr. Cooke’s mouth broke into a full-out grin. “Wouldn’t you? What a pity.”
I ignored how handsome his face was when he smiled. I was too old to feel any sort of fluttering just because a rakehell decided to be charming. “Do you know who the woman was? The fence’s name?”
“I won’t tell you his name. He is not the sort of man with whom a woman like you should become acquainted.” His eyes went dark. “But the woman is one you know. We both attended her funeral today.”
I sat back in my chair. Lady Richford had been a viscountess, for heaven’s sake. Her husband a prominent member of the House of Lords. I knew virtue and vice were equally distributed among the classes, but if she had been caught, her and her family’s lives would have been ruined.
And it wasn’t as though she needed the money. I didn’t have a wealth requirement for my club, but my fees weren’t cheap. If one was a member, one had the means to pay. It didn’t make sense.
“Why?” I rubbed my temple, which showed the faintest beginnings of a megrim. “Was she a gambler? Was she in debt?” I looked to Mr. Cooke. He, after all, did run several gambling hells.
But he merely shrugged. “If she was playing cards, it wasn’t at my clubs.”
That was a thoroughly unsatisfactory answer. I frowned at the man. He’d opened up a Pandora’s box of motives and new suspects but without giving me any names to attach to the motives.
His eyes twinkled, expressing no guilt over his neglect. “If you are ever interested in going into business together, I can assure you it would be highly profitable. I hadn’t thought of using women before for some of my…activities, but they do have access to some things and places men do not. And who would suspect them? Your club would make a useful location for certain meetings.”
“Absolutely not.” I gathered my reticule and my walking stick from the seat next to me, my back stiff. Certain people already thought I and my club were immoral; I wasn’t going to prove them right. “Are you sure that you won’t give me the name of the person Lady Richford met with?”
“Positive.” He stood and cupped his palm under my elbow, helping me to rise.
I didn’t need the assistance, but I had to admit the gesture was appreciated. I had servants, friends, family, but the common courtesies of a man helping a woman in intimate little ways were almost forgotten to me. I had been a widow now for longer than I’d been married. The realization depressed me.
He guided me toward the door and out onto the street. “And are you sure you won’t change your mind about a business association?”
“I won’t.” I lifted my chin to let him know my seriousness.
“I believe you.” He held onto my arm until I was settled in my carriage. He slid the window down before closing the door, then rested his elbow on the sill. He tipped up the brim to his hat, setting it at a jaunty angle. “Though I must admit, Lady Mary, it would be most amusing to try to get you to change your mind.”
And with one last nod, a smack to the side of the carriage, he strolled out of sight.
I called to my driver to be underway. Leaning back, I forced myself to look straight ahead, not seek out his form as we passed. Mr. Cooke was a devilishly irritating man.
He was also a dangerous one, a fact I shouldn’t forget. I felt in my reticule for the note I had decided to carry with me on a whim. The paper it was written on was thick, expensive, and to my fanciful mind, held a tinge of malice.
In Mr. Cooke’s line of work, he must be quite accustomed to making threats. A man didn’t get to be as feared and powerful as he was by being considerate. But I didn’t believe he had sent me this threat. I couldn’t see Mr. Cooke writing the note, much less sending it anonymously. He was much more direct, in both words and action. His threats would come at the end of a pistol, no doubt.
Or would they come at the end of a cravat? If Cooke thought Lady Richford was encroaching on his business somehow, could he have sent someone to kill her?
I pressed a hand to my throat. I didn’t want to believe it of the man. I knew his reputation, but there was still something about him I liked.
But I’d been wrong before.
Chapter Fifteen
Frederick
Frederick saw EdgarBannister in the same room at White’s as he had before. Entry into the club went much more smoothly this time, however, without Lady Mary at his side.
“This is becoming a bad habit, you showing up here.” Bannister lit a pipe, looking for all the world like a child playing grown-up. He tossed the burning spill into the fireplace and took a seat, puffing away on the onyx stem. “What more could you possibly want to ask me?”
