“No. But there are doctor’s bills in her flat.”
“For doctors specializing in syphilis?”
“I didn’t know, but—"
“So you have no evidence, only speculation.” He unbuttoned the front of his overalls, revealing a shirt underneath. “Jumping to conclusions again, Miss Fox?”
It wasn’t fair of him to dredge up the time I’d accused him of murder and thereby inadvertently cost him his job at the hotel. I tried to look defiant, but I suspected I failed. Indeed, I must have because he gave me a sympathetic look.
He stepped out of the overalls and folded them up. He wore only trousers, suspenders and a shirt with the sleevesrolled to the elbows. His tie and waistcoat were hanging on the stand by the door.
“Miss Fox? Are you listening?”
I realized I’d been staring at his forearms, admiring the way the muscles moved beneath the smooth skin on the underside of his arms. “Of course I am.” I cleared my throat. “Refresh my memory.”
He smirked. “I was saying that you need evidence if you want my father’s help. For one thing, Pearl Westwood’s death was deemed suicide, and you don’t have enough evidence to suggest otherwise. For another, my father didn’t oversee the investigation. If you want him to overturn a ruling made by one of his colleagues, you’ll need something solid.”
I sighed. “Which I don’t have.”
He gave me a flat smile. “Sorry.”
“And I’m also unlikely to get it. Lord and Lady Wrexham are a closed book and I have no authority over them.”
He sat on the edge of the desk near me. “Sit down.”
I sat, curious as to why he was looking rather serious.
“I’m going to tell you a secret.”
“You have my attention.”
“I’m going to give you the secret as to how I earned the respect of the staff at the hotel, even though I didn’t have the seniority of my uncle nor the status of Sir Ronald.”
“If you tell me it’s arrogance, I already know that from observing you.” When he gave me a withering glare, I muttered an apology then pressed my lips together.
“To command respect, you don’t actually need to have any authority at all. You have to pretend to.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You have to talk and act like you’re above them. You even have to think you are, at times. When you’re intimidated, don’t show it. When they talk down to you, stand above them, metaphorically speaking. I think you’d be rather good at it. You have a certain confidence about you already. You just need a little more composure.”
“If you’re talking about keeping a lid on my temper, I’m afraid that might be impossible. I got quite angry with Lady Wrexhamyesterday.”
He rolled down the sleeve on his left arm. “It’s something to practice, anyway.”
I stood. “Thank you for the advice, but I don’t think it will work on the Wrexhams. No matter how much pretending I do, I’m not at their level, and they know it.”
“Nonsense. You’re Sir Ronald Bainbridge’s niece. If that doesn’t open doors here in London, little else will.” He stopped unrolling the sleeve and looked at me, a crease connecting his brows. “You do know that, don’t you?”
I gave a small shrug of my shoulder, but wasn’t really listening. I couldn’t see how mentioning my uncle’s name was going to encourage Lord Wrexham to talk to me about his illness. I’d barely got him to talk about his relationship with Pearl. Syphilis was a subject too far.
I left Mr. Armitage’s office feeling less assured of myself than when I’d arrived. He was right. I had no proof. Even worse, I didn’t know how to get it.
The investigation was at a dead end. It was time to tell Lord Rumford that I was giving up, that I couldn’t say definitively whether Pearl killed herself or not. I wasn’t looking forward to letting him down.
But what I really wasn’t looking forward to was telling him that his lover not only had a child by another man, but she quite possibly had syphilis too, and may have given it to him.
Chapter 13
