“Well, perhaps we’ll see them there tonight,” I said with a smile. “I’d very much like to see it. I’m not afraid of a little excitement.”
This seemed to amuse him. “No? Well, neither am I. In fact, I think that sounds like a rather enjoyable way to spend an evening. It’s not far from here, in fact. Shall we go?”
* * *
WE WALKED INTO the Sparrow not half an hour later, and I could see at once that Lord Dunmore’s assessment had been correct. The nightclub was not the sort of place I was accustomed to frequenting. Once inside, we were engulfed in the thick, smoky atmosphere. The lights were dim, and the music being played by a large band at the front of the room was cacophonous. A great many couples moved about the dance floor, and most of the dances were, to say the least, unfamiliar to me.
The nightclubs Milo and I frequented tended to be much more reserved. And, though Milo was, to put it politely, much more adventurous than I, I suspected this place would have been beneath his notice as well. It lacked the elegant recklessness of some of the more popular nightspots and seemed somehow shabby instead.
I was most definitely out of my milieu.
Lord Dunmore, it seemed, felt no such qualms. In fact, he seemed very much at home. He took my arm, and we threaded through the crowded tables, raucous laughter breaking out around us, almost indistinguishable in the din. The air smelled very strongly of alcohol and stale perfume. I wished now that I hadn’t been so hasty in suggesting that we come here.
“I’ve seen someone I must say hello to,” he told me. “I’ll find you in a moment.” Lord Dunmore’s grip on my arm loosened, and then he had disappeared into the crowd.
I took a moment to get my bearings. Perhaps I was too old for such frivolity, but I noticed that several of the women around me looked a good deal older than me, though they were certainly making valiant attempts to hide it.
I tried to see where Lord Dunmore had gone, but the crowds and inadequate lighting, not to mention the haze of cigarette smoke, made it difficult to see much of anything. I began making my way through the crowds in hopes of finding some inconspicuous spot where I could await his return. I didn’t expect that there would be much to be learned here, after all, and I was rather anxious that he should take me home.
I wondered what Milo would think of all of this when I told him. Then I remembered that he was cross with me and would likely be very disinterested in anything that I should have to say about this evening.
I refused an offer to dance and two much less polite offers by the time I neared the perimeter of the room.
Then I turned around and, as luck would have it, bumped directly into one of the suspects I had been hoping to encounter.
“Hello, Miss Echols,” I said, as brightly as I could manage. It was Felicity, the younger sister. She was wearing a wrinkled gown of gold lamé, and her face, already pale, seemed to grow paler as she realized who I was.
“Oh…” She looked at me with her wide, vague eyes. “Mrs. Ames, isn’t it?”
The glass in her hand was nearly empty, and it occurred to me to wonder how much she had had to drink, for she seemed to sway slightly on her feet. I fought the urge to reach out and steady her.
“How have you been?” I asked, keeping up the pretense of polite conversation, which was difficult considering I fairly had to shout to be heard.
“Dreadful.” She drained the remainder of the liquid from her glass, and then looked at me again. “That is to say … I’ve been all right. How are you, Mrs. Ames?”
“The murder upset me quite a lot,” I told her.
It appeared my comment had struck home, for her eyes filled at once with tears. I should have known better than to speak so bluntly, but I had been hoping to trigger some sort of response. This was not what I had hoped for.
“Oh, it’s all so very dreadful,” she said, covering her face with her free hand, her shoulders shaking.
“I’m sorry, dear,” I said. I took a handkerchief from my handbag and handed it to her, while taking one arm and ushering her to an unoccupied seat in the corner. She sat heavily in a chair, and I took her glass and then sat at the table beside her.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” I told her sincerely. I hadn’t foreseen this reaction, and I felt bad now for having spoken so callously of the death of the man to whom she had been rumored to be attached. I glanced around for some sign of Marjorie. She would know better than I how to comfort her sister.
“It’s just that I feel so sorry about poor James.” Felicity sobbed. “He was so very sweet, and it was so cruel what happened to him.”
“Yes, we’re all very sad about that,” I agreed.
“He was always a gentleman,” she said. “No matter what anyone says about him, he was always a gentleman.”
To my knowledge, no one had ever accused him of being otherwise.
“Were you … on good terms with him?” I asked.
“Did I love him, do you mean?” she asked with disarming frankness. “No, I didn’t. Not really, anyway. Not in the romantic sense … but he was very kind to Marjorie and me.”
“It must be hard to lose such a good friend,” I said.
She reached for her glass, and I handed it to her, despite the fact that it was empty. She lifted it to her lips and then set it down sadly. “It’s all gone,” she told me.
“Yes, dear. Perhaps some water…”
She shook her head, her blond curls bouncing. “I never thought that it would come to that, that he would be killed.”
“I’m sure no one did.”
“He didn’t mean it,” she said. “I’m sure he didn’t.”
“Who didn’t mean what?” I asked.
It seemed for just a moment that her gaze cleared ever so slightly and she seemed aware of what she had just said.
“What are you doing here?” she asked suddenly. “This isn’t your type of place, Mrs. Ames.”
“Lord Dunmore told me that several of our mutual acquaintances enjoyed coming here, including Mr. Harker and Mr. Foster. We decided to drop by and see if there was anyone here we knew.”
She looked at me, her eyes wide. “Is he here?”
“Yes, we’ve just come from having dinner.”
Her eyes darted behind me, searching the crowd. “You shouldn’t … He isn’t … Don’t trust him, Mrs. Ames. He’s dangerous.”
I was surprised by the alarm in her expression. “I’ll certainly keep that in mind.”
“I’d better go before he comes,” she said, and there was something very much like fear in her voice.
“I’m sure there’s no need to be alarmed,” I said soothingly. She had obviously had too much to drink if the presence of Lord Dunmore put her in such a state.
I turned to see if I could spot him anywhere in the room. When I turned back, I was startled to see Felicity Echols was gone. She had disappeared into the crowd.
A moment later, Lord Dunmore found me. “Enjoying yourself?”
“Not especially,” I admitted. I was suddenly tired, and I didn’t want to be in this place any longer.
“It is a bit … exuberant, I suppose.” As if to confirm this, a row of scantily clad chorus girls made their way out onto the floor, warbling a song at the top of their lungs.
I turned to look at him. “Would you take me home now?”
“Are you certain you don’t want a drink?” he asked.
“Thank you, no.”
“We haven’t even had a chance to dance yet.”
“I wouldn’t think you’d enjoy dancing in a place like this,” I said frankly. I was hard-pressed to picture the elegant Viscount Dunmore moving about the dance floor to the somewhat-frantic jazz tune the band had begun to play.
His eyes caught mine and held, a small smile forming on his lips. “Perhaps not, but I would enjoy having you in my arms.”
“I’m afraid my ankle is not quite healed, in any event,” I replied, though, in truth, it had nearly ceased to trouble me at all.
“Of course. Well, if you’re ready, I’m quite willing.”
He put his hand on my elbow, and we walked toward the door. I couldn’t seem to get my mind off what Felicity Echols had said. How strange it was that Lord Dunmore should have implicated the Echols sisters and Felicity Echols should have warned me against him.
There couldn’t be anything serious in it. Dangerous could have more than one definition. I couldn’t believe that Lord Dunmore was involved in James Harker’s death. Then again, I was well aware of the loosening effect alcohol had on the tongue. Perhaps she had been willing to tell me something that she might not have under other circumstances.
The thought was certainly not a pleasant one as I once again slid into the cool backseat of Lord Dunmore’s automobile.
* * *
“ARE YOU SURE you want to go home?” Lord Dunmore asked as the car pulled onto the busy streets. Although the hour was growing late, the London nightlife was just beginning to come alive. I couldn’t help but wonder where Milo might be. This time of night was when he was most in his element, and that was not an especially comforting thought.
“There are any number of other nightclubs we could visit, you know. Or we could go to a jazz club, if you like music.”
He was sitting very close on the seat, so close that I could feel the warmth coming off him. I was not, as a general rule, uneasy when I found myself alone with a gentleman, but there was something about his nearness that was making me slightly uncomfortable. It was as though my body was picking up some subtle signal that my mind had not yet interpreted. I wondered how much of it had to do with what Felicity Echols had told me.
“Yes, I’m afraid I’m rather tired.”
“Might I ask you an impertinent question, Amory?” he said suddenly.
I was a bit afraid of what it might be, but I nodded. “If you like.”
“Where exactly do things stand with you and your husband?”
I hesitated. I wasn’t certain where this conversation was leading, but I didn’t wish to appear rude by refusing to answer him.
“Things are a bit complicated at the moment,” I said at last.
“Perhaps you’re not sure what you want. Perhaps I can help you figure it out.” His fingers were caressing my arm in a slow, hypnotic movement. I felt a shift in the atmosphere.
“I … don’t think…” I was trying to determine how best to play this, but he moved rather quickly, and it was difficult to find the countermoves.
“Why don’t you come back to my house for a drink,” he said in a low voice.
“Thank you, but no.”
“I heard that you were out to dinner with your husband last night,” he said, his fingers still on my arm. “Trying to keep up pretenses?”
“Milo and I are not on unfriendly terms.” I felt somehow that I didn’t want to share any more than I had to. There was something slightly intrusive in his questions and his behavior.
“I’ve always taken Ames for an intelligent man. If so, I assume he’s trying to make up for his … indiscretions.”
“There are just a few matters that need to be settled between us,” I said carefully.
Lord Dunmore smiled. “In the meantime, perhaps you’d like to take advantage of your freedom.”
He was leaning closer, and it seemed that in a moment he would try to kiss me.
He was handsome, attentive, and very sure of himself, but I wasn’t even slightly tempted. Despite what Milo may or may not have done, I had absolutely no desire to engage in an affair of my own … with Lord Dunmore or anyone else.
“You promised to discuss the use of the Dunmore Diamond with me, my lord,” I said, hoping my very obvious change of subject would halt his advances.
A knowing smile flickered across his face, and, by some subtle shift of posture, he contrived to ease the intensity that had been so apparent only a moment before. “I think you should wear it to the ball,” he said.
This I hadn’t expected. “Oh, I don’t know if that is a good idea.”
“It would look lovely on you, and you can arrange to set it somewhere as a trap at some point in the evening.”
I found it surprising how he spoke of a priceless heirloom as some trinket to be tossed about at will. Nevertheless, the idea was not entirely without merit.
“Yes, I suppose that might work,” I said. “I shall think it over.”
“Certainly.” He smiled. “Call on me before the party, if you like. I’ll give it to you to wear.”
I was relieved to see we had arrived back at my building. “You needn’t see me to my door,” I said, hoping he would take the hint.
To his credit, he did not insist. “Very well. I’ll leave you here then. You’ll be in touch about our other arrangements, I suppose.”
“Yes. Thank you. And thank you for a lovely evening, Lord Dunmore.”
“Alexander,” he corrected, taking my hand in his.
“Alexander,” I repeated with a smile. “Good night.”
“Good night, Amory.” He squeezed my hand. Then he turned and got back into his car. I watched it pull away before turning toward the door, feeling very much relieved. The evening had not gone exactly as I had expected, but I still felt that I had learned a few things.
I stopped in the lobby before going to the lift. Although I was tired, I somehow dreaded going back to the dark, quiet flat. Winnelda had gone to bed long ago, and I wished there was someone to talk to.
I was trying to fool myself, of course. I knew perfectly well that I was making excuses to go and see Milo. It was intensely irritating to me that I should want to talk to him at all, given everything that had happened between us as of late. Nevertheless, I was perfectly aware that I would break down, so I might as well just go see him.
I went back outside and hailed a cab.
25
THE RITZ LOBBY was busy, despite the hour, with people in evening dress coming and going along the brightly lit hall, their footsteps muted by the dark rugs. I could hear faint strains of music drifting from the direction of the dining room, where guests were no doubt enjoying a carefree evening of after-dinner dancing. For some reason, it recalled the early days of my marriage. We had been very young and carefree then, and I had loved nothing more than floating about the room in Milo’s arms.
Brushing away my growing nostalgia, I walked toward the lift. It occurred to me suddenly, however, that I probably should have telephoned to warn him of my arrival. In fact, I began to wonder if I had been foolish in coming here. After all, Milo might not want to talk to me at all. Just because we had enjoyed engaging in subterfuge together this afternoon didn’t mean that everything was all right between us.
There was also the possibility he might not be there. There were any number of ways he might have chosen to spend his evening while I spent mine with Lord Dunmore. An even worse possibility than a night on the town occurred to me: he might very well be in his room and … entertaining. I felt vaguely sick at the idea that Helene Renault—or some other woman—might be there now.
I hesitated for a just a moment, and then I turned and approached the front desk.
“May I help you, madam?” asked the man who stood behind it.
“Can you tell me if Mr. Ames is in? He’s in the Trafalgar Suite.”
He didn’t hesitate. “Mr. Ames is still in the dining room, madam,” he said, indicating the direction I should take.
I thought of asking if Milo was alone but decided against it. I could find that out for myself.
I made my way to the dining room, admiring, as I always did, the elegant opulence of it. It was a beautiful room, glowing golden in the night. The elaborate frescoes, heavy draped curtains, and soft lighting in the gilded chandeliers that hung from high ceilings gave the large room a feeling of warmth and intimacy. Laughter and the soft murmur of conversation mingled with the clinking of glasses, and I couldn’t help but contrast the quiet elegance of this place with the cacophony of the Sparrow.
I spotted
Milo at a table near the dance floor and was immensely relieved to see that he was alone.
His brows rose when he saw me, and he stood as I approached the table. He was dressed in spotless evening attire, and I felt a little pang. In some cruel twist of fate, he always seemed most handsome when things were the worst between us.
“Hello, Milo,” I said.
“Good evening,” he replied politely.
We stood there for a moment, looking at one another.
“May I join you?” I asked at last.
He pulled out a chair and motioned with exaggerated courtesy for me sit.
“To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” he asked, taking the chair across from me. He didn’t sound as though my answer would be of any particular interest to him. His dinner plates had been cleared away, but he was drinking a glass of wine, and his fingers toyed with the stem.
“I wanted you to see that I had arrived home in one piece,” I said.
“I am gratified to learn that you escaped your evening unscathed.”
“Lord Dunmore was…” I began to say “a perfect gentleman,” but that was not exactly the case. Milo noticed my hesitation. “Very pleasant.”
“Did he kiss you?” He asked this casually, as though he was not questioning his wife about her behavior with another man.
“No, of course not,” I replied irritably.
“Did he try to?”
I paused. I wanted very much to lie to my husband, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
“Not exactly,” I said.
His eyes met mine. “I knew perfectly well that he wouldn’t be able to resist you, darling.”
“But I didn’t allow him to kiss me,” I said. My meaning was implied. I had resisted Lord Dunmore’s advances, while Milo had been caught kissing Helene Renault.
“But if a photographer had been present in that moment when he tried, it might, in fact, have been interpreted as more than it was.”
I sighed. He had a point. However, I was very hesitant to admit it. No matter how well he presented his arguments, I still didn’t know if I believed him. That was the maddening part. No matter how much I wanted to trust him, there was always some part of me that found it impossible to do so.
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