Jason pulled his coat back to reveal the pistol tucked into his waistband. “The matter concerns a Miss Groton.”
Pomfret’s frowning gaze roamed from the gun to Jason’s face. “We don’t allow firearms in ’ere. What about ’er?”
“I am here to collect her father’s IOUs.”
“You intend to pay his debt?”
“No, I do not. Miss Groton has no way of paying her father’s gambling debts, as you well know, and norshouldshe,” he said with quiet menace, tamping down the desire to take his fists to the man. “What I will promise is not to make you significantly more nervous.”
Pomfret rose on his toes. “I am not afraid of you, milord. I ’ave many good friends in this business.”
“Including your partner in this club, Lord Saville?”
Pomfret scowled. “’im too.”
“But I happen to know, Pomfret, that you are new to London. Finding your feet as it were. And Lord Saville, who is a member of my club, wishes to keep a low profile regarding his connection to this gambling hell. If your name, linked to his, ends up in the newspapers, that will upset him, and you’ll be out on your backside if you’re lucky, or dead in some alley if you’re not. Surely even Miss Groton isn’t worth that. Pretty as she is.”
A tick formed in Pomfret’s jaw as silence fell.
“Come, Pomfret. Mr. Groton could not owe you much. He was not a rich man. And it appears you have done well tonight.” Jason held out his hand, aware that the prize was not money but Miss Groton. “The vowels if you will.”
Pomfret swiveled and went to open a cupboard. Withdrawing a box, he rifled through it and returned with the signed IOUs. “Take ’em. You peers think you can rule it over everyone.”
“You work for a peer, Pomfret,” Jason reminded him, relieving him of the scraps of paper. “If any more of these turn up, I won’t be so polite next time. And I, too, have some very good friends.”
***
Helen discovered the French lady’s maid, Eloise, in her mother’s boudoir, attending to one of her mother’s hats. With brisk neat stitches, she attached a satin rose to a silk bonnet.
At the mention of Bart, Eloise bowed her head over her work with a deep sigh. “Je suis vraiment désolée.”
“Can you remember anything unusual Bart might have said before he became ill?” Helen asked.
Her black eyes grew wide. “Oui. Bart believed that something ’e knew would improve ’is situation.”
“What was that?”
“I do not know. But he was insistent. After I teased him, he said when he became rich he would ask me to marry him.” She shrugged her narrow shoulders. “I can get my way with most things, Lady Helen.” She smoothed her mobcap in the mirror. “But he would not tell me this.”
Frustrated, Helen left the room. It would be difficult to believe anything Eloise said. It wasn’t that she told lies, but she was given to dramatics.
Downstairs in the servants’ quarters, Jeremy had just returned from running a message. Helen drew him aside. “Did Bart say or do anything that surprised you in the weeks before he died?”
The tall footman flushed and shuffled his feet. “No, Lady Helen.”
“You won’t be in any trouble, Jeremy. But I need to know.”
He scratched his head. “Just that he asked me to watch out for him while he went into the library. The family was out. I knew it was wrong, Lady Helen, but he was insistent.”
“When was this?”
“A few weeks ago, now.”
“What was he looking for?”
“Refused to say. Said it was better if I didn’t know.”
“Did he remove anything from the library?”
