‘He’s not mine. Late twenties, very early thirties?’
‘That would be the elder son. But this is fifteen years out of date. The old Count could have died in the Terror or from natural causes and the title have passed to the son, quite legitimately,’ Garrick said.
‘Or this one might be an imposter. Or genuine and on Napoleon’s side,’ I said. Garrick was probably right but I had instinctive mistrusted Gaston, whoever he was. He was too much the clichéd Frenchman to be true.
I began to thumb through the book and felt my brain glaze over at the point where I got to someone who was Prince of Saxe-Weimar-Eisenach, Duke of Saxony, Jülich, Kleve and Berg, Engern and Westfalen, Landgrave in Thüringen, Margrave zu Meissen, Princely Count zu Henneberg, Count zu der Mark and Ravensberg, Lord zu Ravenstein and Tonna. Good grief!
‘So, what do we have?’ Luc leaned back and I jerked my attention away from the twiglets on the branches of European aristocracy. ‘The two deaths might or might not be connected. There is the fact that they were lovers and we don’t know if anyone else was involved. There is Coates’s work which may or may not be relevant, the other lodgers – although that doesn’t seem very likely – Cassandra’s French spy and, finally, the fact that Talbot may have known any number of deeply compromising secrets about members of the ton.’
‘Damn all, in fact,’ I said. ‘We’ve questioned the other lodgers and at least visited George’s place of work. We can’t get anywhere with the gynaecological secrets of High Society until we can read the ledgers – what does that leave?’
‘Society itself.’ Luc refilled his tankard. ‘We will attend every event to which I have invitations and mingle. Tonight we want to meet Sir Thomas and Salmond, fish for political gossip and see if anyone has encountered the Comte. James, you need to see if anyone you know has picked up whispers on the grapevine.’
‘And me?’ I asked.
‘Confide in the ladies about the awful shock of calling on Doctor Talbot and discovering that he had been murdered.’
‘And why would I have been calling?’
‘I couldn’t possibly speculate,’ Luc said. ‘You asked me, your cousin, who name a reputable doctor for female complaints and, as I knew Talbot slightly, I took you round. We encounter the hysterical valet – the rest is more or less the truth.’
I rolled my eyes at him. Just what female complaint was I supposed to be suffering from, I wondered? I’d have to think of something suitably vague and non-scandalous.
‘Various packages and bandboxes have been delivered for you, Miss Lawrence,’ Garrick said while I was trying to decide what intimate symptoms I was willing to discuss with complete strangers. ‘I thought you would prefer to unpack yourself, but should anything require pressing you have only to ask.’
I gathered that this evening’s reception required full dress – I’d have to get Garrick to tell me the difference between that and half dress – and that my existing gown was suitable, plus a number of pieces of jewellery from the safe. Apparently Luc’s mother preferred that he safeguard some of the family gems himself, rather than leave them in the Town House when she was out of London.
‘Won’t people recognise family pieces?’ I worried.
‘Your colouring is different from Mama’s,’ Luc said. ‘There are plenty of things that she never wears. Lay out your gown and we’ll find something suitable.’
‘Come and help me, Garrick,’ I suggested. ‘I can’t think of anything else to put on the boards.’
The packages included an evening dress from Madame with a note that she’d had it in stock and it had only required a few alterations. It was a ravishing pale blue silk confection with a silver gauze overskirt and what looked like a precariously low neckline.
I decided I wanted to wear that one. Garrick suggested silver ribbons in my hair, went and consulted Lucian while I gloated over it, and came back with diamond pins to go with the ribbons plus sapphire and diamond earrings, necklace and bracelets. They all looked terrifyingly expensive. I had borrowed the yellow diamonds of a collection they had referred to as the Pemberton Parure last time; this was probably another set brought into the family by some past heiress.
Luc called through the closed door that he had to go and deal with some estate business at his attorney’s office. ‘It might be a good idea to lie down and try to sleep,’ he added. ‘We won’t be back until the small hours.’
‘I’ll bring your bath at five, Miss Lawrence.’ Garrick set out the jewellery boxes on the dressing table. ‘That will allow your skin to cool before you depart.’
‘Thank you,’ I said to the closing door as I began to rummage in the other parcels. Heaven forbid that I might appear flushed. Or, presumably, in any way less than perfect, I grumbled to myself, although it was hard to be churlish under the circumstances.
Most of the underwear had arrived, fortunately. Part of me wanted to dress up in that gorgeous gown and put on all those sparkly things and part of me was muttering darkly about being forced into a straight-jacket of what was suitable and permissible. The sparkly things were winning, which I ought to regret, but can’t.
I did manage to doze for a couple of hours and woke up feeling as though I’d been chewing blotting paper. Goodness knows how people manage to take power naps and wake up alert and raring to go. All I was raring for were a pee and a cup of tea, in that order.
I negotiated the quite civilised inside loo, then went in search of Garrick and a cuppa. There was no sign of him so I brewed up myself, drifted into the drawing room and jumped when I realised I wasn’t alone. James was brooding on the sofa but he looked up and smiled faintly when he saw me.
‘Tea?’ I gestured with my mug but he shook his head. ‘Want me to go away?’ Another shake so I sat down beside him and rested against his shoulder. He shifted and leaned in companionably, so I sipped in silence, wondering what was wrong. Other than a good friend committing suicide, another being murdered and generally having to live a double life because of prejudice and persecution, of course.
I wished, not for the first time, that it was possible to adopt brothers. I’d have claimed James like a shot. ‘Tell me to shut up if I’m out of order,’ I said when my mug was half empty. ‘But do you have anyone special yourself?’
‘No.’ Then, ‘Yes.’
I made a Go on, I’m listening sort of noise.
‘He won’t accept that this is right, that we should be together. He married last year. Naturally we had to stop meeting. His wife is expecting their first child.’