Hewasvexed, and he did not know why. This was not a simple jealousy darkening his mind. The temporary nature of their affair ate at him.
They shared pleasure and a deep familiarity. They shared confidences and, he liked to think, a mutual affection that touched on the profound at moments. She was his lover, but not his mistress, and he had no rights where she was concerned. None. He did not even have the right to warn off his cousins. Or to protect her in other ways.
Nicholas headed to his dressing room. “I’ll have the valet send down word that you will be at breakfast.”
“I have a question before you start your dressing.”
Nicholas turned, waiting.
“Did you find any gold in the house? Coins.”
Nicholas looked surprised, then grinned. “Damn, youaregood. I discovered a large stash at Melton Park the day after you left. I opened a drawer in an unused wardrobe off his dressing room, and there it was, behind a false back. Guineas half filled it. I enjoyed an hour of exultant relief before I started to wonder if I had to inform the solicitor and turn it over to the estate.”
“You inherited the ducal houses and their contents. That was part of the contents.”
“So I concluded. It was enough to balance the accounts for at least a year. How did you know about this?”
“Dolores mentioned something about it while telling me an old family story.”A fortune that he could carry out the door. On hand. At the ready. Uncle might have brought gold in, just for the bribe, but Chase did not think so. “I will be in the morning room when you are ready.” He gestured to the chamber. “There is probably more here, somewhere. It shouldn’t be hard to find.”
* * *
Minerva’s advertisement on behalf of Mrs. Jeffers produced results immediately. A letter came that very afternoon. An anonymous one. It said the man she sought, Douglas Marin, lived on Litchfield Street.
Grateful for something to distract her from her worry over what Chase had learned, the next morning she dressed in her serviceable gray, tied on her bonnet, slid her reticule over her arm, and set off on foot. Litchfield Street was not very far from her home, although as she walked east the neighborhood quickly changed for the worse, reflecting that she neared the Seven Dials.
Mrs. Jeffers’s cousin must have been down on his luck if he lived here. He would be glad to learn that his cousin sought him out and wanted them to make amends. There were times when conducting inquiries could result in good things for people, and it raised her spirits that this would probably be one of them.
Finding Mr. Marin’s building did not take long. A boy playing in the street pointed it out before running after his friend. She approached the front steps while a woman came down them.
“Pardon me, but are you Mrs. Marin?”
The woman burst out laughing. “As if I would marry such a man. There’s enough worthless drunkards in the world without going and marrying one of them.”
The man drank. She would have to get him sober before he met his cousin. “He does live here, though. Am I correct?”
The woman pointed over her shoulder. “Right there. First door to the right after you enter. Have your handkerchief at the ready. The place stinks.” She walked down the street.
When a woman who lived in this neighborhood said a chamber stunk, Minerva did not argue the point. She loosened the drawstring on her reticule so she could reach her handkerchief quickly. Then she mounted the steps, opened the front door, and found the first one on the right.
She hoped Mr. Marin had risen by now. If he drank perhaps he hadn’t. But then if he drank who knew when he would be awake or asleep. She rapped on the door.
Sounds came from within. Scrapes and thuds and at least one curse. The door opened a crack and red-rimmed eyes peered at her.
Mr. Marin looked younger than she had expected, even if bad living had aged him before his time. Blond hair hung around his head in tangles, long and ungroomed. He stood a little taller than she did. Mrs. Jeffers said they had played together as children, but she must have had at least a dozen years on him.
“Who are you? Some reformer lady?”
“No. Do I look like one?”
“A bit. No need for you here. You go above. There’s a man there with two women who need saving. They make too much noise all night.”
“Mr. Marin, I am not here to save anyone. I have come—”
“How’d you know my name?” He eyed her suspiciously.
“I have conducted inquiries in order to find Mr. Douglas Marin and I have succeeded, I believe. If you open the door another few inches, I will gladly explain why. It is in your interest to hear me out.”
He made a face, thought about it, opened the door wide, and walked back into the chamber. Minerva followed. The odor assaulted her so badly she almost reached for her handkerchief. Instead she braved it out and picked her way amidst the alarming trash covering the floor. She stopped ten feet into the chamber and noted with some relief that the door remained open, letting in better air.
