Riley crossed one foot over his opposite thigh and leaned back in his chair, studying his brother over the rim of his glass. ‘You love being a marquess and wouldn’t have it any other way,’ he said.
‘Never had a lot of choice in the matter.’ He paused. ‘Unlike you.’
‘We can none of us help what we are born to be and just have to make the best of it,’ Riley replied briskly. ‘Anyway, I saw Celeste, which is what you really want to talk about, and she told me things that will help with my enquiry.’
‘How is she?’ Henry sat forward, his eyes coming alive with anticipation. ‘Did she mention me?’
‘Naturally, your name came up during the course of conversation. She is well, and very lovely, but I hardly need to tell you that. I can’t repeat what we discussed but there isn’t the slightest chance of her agreeing to your terms, if that’s what you were hoping to hear.’ Riley dealt his brother a sympathetic glance. ‘She is settled in London now.’ He paused. ‘I’m sorry but you would be better advised to forget all about her.’
‘I could come to the capital more often and see her here,’ he said, sounding so desperate that Riley felt awkward. It wasn’t as though he and his brother had ever been on intimate terms. Too many years and three sisters separated them. When Riley started at Eton, Henry had already moved on to university and their paths seldom crossed. But now Riley was seeing a side to Henry’s character that he hadn’t realised existed. The raw emotion in his expression and the uncharacteristic lack of confidence defied Henry’s customary stiff upper lip persona and was in danger of embarrassing them both. ‘I know I can’t tie her down but, damn it, I’ll take as much of her as she’s prepared to offer me.’
‘Henry, stop humiliating yourself,’ Riley said gently. ‘She won’t see you.’
‘She will! It’s just a case of—’
‘She’s married.’
‘Married!’ Henry laughed, looking suddenly more like his old self as he downed a hefty gulp of Riley’s wine. ‘Don’t be absurd.’
‘You, I fancy, would have married her in a heartbeat, were you in a position to do so. Why do you find it so hard to believe that someone else actually did so?’
Riley regretted being quite so blunt when Henry looked to be on the verge of passing out. He stood, poured his brother a substantial measure of brandy and forced the glass into his hand, suspecting that he was in dire need of something stronger than burgundy. ‘Here, drink this.’
Henry took the glass and Riley turned away from him, pretending not to see the tears trickling down his brother’s face.
‘Whom did she marry?’ Henry asked in a glum tone.
‘No one you would be acquainted with, but someone who is connected with my investigation, which is why your Celeste wanted to speak to me so urgently.’
‘He ain’t a murderer, is he?’ Henry asked, brightening at the prospect.
‘Unlikely. I shall know when I have spoken with him. He wasn’t there tonight but I anticipate interviewing him in the morning.’
‘It’s typical of Celeste that she would want to help you, when she would be better advised to keep her head down.’
‘The woman who was murdered was a friend of hers.’
Henry sat bolt upright. ‘She ain’t in danger herself? Is that why she was so secretive about her reasons for wanting to talk to you? I know you’re efficient at what you do but perhaps you should have a word with Torbay. Take his advice.’
Riley tried not to take offence at his brother’s suggestion. ‘History repeating itself?’ Riley suggested, unable to resist the jibe.
Henry puffed out his cheeks. ‘No need to be offensive.’
Jake Morton, the Earl of Torbay had, in his heyday, run a band of aristocratic vigilantes who made it their business to right wrongs that the then police force had neither the wits nor the capability to resolve. Riley’s father had been at the heart of a potential scandal involving his actress mistress that, thanks to Jake’s decisive action, had failed to become public knowledge. Fifteen at the time, Riley had been fascinated by Jake methods. Jake had encouraged his interest, they had remained friends and spent many long hours lamenting the lack of an efficient detective division within the Metropolitan police. Jake had made a huge impression upon the young Riley and was largely responsible for his eventual career choice. Riley still frequently consulted Jake, taking his advice on especially sensitive cases. Perhaps he would do as Henry suggested and speak to him about this one. He was due to return to London from Torbay, and perhaps already had.
Besides, it suddenly occurred to him, Jake’s wife Olivia was a close friend of Amelia’s. If anyone could enlighten him as to the precise nature of Amelia’s unhappy marriage it would be Olivia. Naturally, Riley wouldn’t ask her directly, but perhaps a roundabout approach might reveal something insightful.
‘As far as I am aware, she is no threat to the killer,’ Riley said, returning to the subject of Celeste. ‘She simply wants to see justice done for her friend.’
‘Damn it!’ Henry thumped the arm of his chair. ‘Damn it, damn it, damn it!’
‘There are plenty of other courtesans, most of whom would give their eye teeth to have you in their clutches.’
‘I don’t want any other!’
‘Now you’re sounding petulant, Henry,’ Riley said briskly. ‘You’ve had your fun. I’m sorry it didn’t turn out the way you hoped but don’t make a fool of yourself by falling into decline over a woman who doesn’t return your affections. Where’s your pride, man?’
‘It’s all right for you. You can do as you damned well please and everyone makes allowances.’
‘That’s the spirit.’ Riley clapped his brother’s shoulders, not allowing his snide comments to rile him. ‘You’d be best advised to go back to Chichester and see your son. He will be a great source of solace, I have no doubt.’
Henry grunted.
‘Chief Inspector Danforth is at the door, my lord,’ Stout said, walking into the room.
Riley rolled his eyes. ‘Tell him I am not at home and won’t ever be, no matter how often he calls.’
Stout almost smiled. ‘It will be my pleasure.’
Once Stout had got rid of Danforth, Riley saw his brother off and finally got to have his bath, followed by the meal that Stout had somehow managed to keep warm. Given the vagaries of Riley’s occupation, his man had become an expert as juggling his culinary requirements. He invited Stout to sit opposite him whilst he ate and related everything that Celeste had just told him.
‘This is the woman the marquess is mooning over?’
‘The very same. But I have to say, Stout, if you’d seen her, you’d most likely be reduced to mooning as well.’
Stout snorted. ‘Doubt it.’
‘Well all right, perhaps not. The thing is, the brother, Ray, has some sort of hold over Michael—or so it seems, reading between the lines. That’s why Michael keeps his rooms in Hay Lane for appearances sake and doesn’t shout about being married to Celeste.’
‘If Ray’s mother started out as a prostitute I expect the boy saw some unpleasant stuff when he was too young to understand what was going on. If he’s the resentful type, all brawn and no brain, then it follows that Michael will be wary of him.’
Riley nodded round a mouthful of beef, swallowed it and took a sip of wine. ‘He’s an ox of a man, as you will know if you saw him shouting his mouth off in that tavern the other night. Has a temper on him as well. But Michael is the brainier brother and I can’t see why he would be frightened to tell Ray that he’s married. Celeste is not your average streetwalker and Ray need never know what she once was.’
‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that. You can take the woman out of the gutter…’
‘True.’ Riley conceded the point with a casual one-shouldered shrug. His mother could tell at a glance if a person wasn’t what she purported to be, even if they were dressed in the latest fashion and knew how to behave. ‘But Michael can�
�t go on living a lie indefinitely.’
‘I would imagine that Ray inherits if anything were to happen to Michael.’
‘Yes, the same thought had occurred to me. I don’t know what Clement and Adelaide were planning, or how they intended to get revenge on her family, but I must assume that it would have left Clement well recompensed, allowing him and Celeste—’
‘Celeste Clement?’ Stout rolled his eyes.
‘Quite. Anyway, Celeste has promised to have Michael contact me the moment he returns to England and then I shall know more. Since she’s worried about what might happen to her, given the fate met by Adelaide, I feel sure that I will hear from him sooner rather than later.’
‘She didn’t know what they were planning?’
‘I am sure she did, but she wasn’t willing to tell me. Besides, I’d prefer to hear it from her husband.’ Riley finished his meal and pushed his empty plate aside. ‘Go back to that tavern, The Lamb close to Billingsgate tomorrow lunchtime, Stout. I’m certain that Ray will be in there. It’s his regular haunt once the market closes.’
‘Do you want me to befriend him or simply keep my ears open?’
‘Use your initiative. Strike up casual conversations and discover what people are saying about him.’
‘Very well.’ Stout stood to clear the table. ‘Shall you be going out again this evening?’
Riley was sorely tempted to call and see Amelia but decided against it. He still hadn’t untangled his feelings regarding that lady and knew it would be dangerous to make a habit of leaning upon her.
‘No, Stout, I think not.’ Riley lifted his arms above his head and yawned. ‘It’s an early night for me.’
Riley felt revived the following morning. He took it as an encouraging sign that the rain had finally cleared and he was greeted by a crisp autumn morning. Multi-coloured leaves blew around his garden, agitated by a strong breeze as a weak sun attempted to break through a bank of cloud. He arrived at Scotland Yard at an early hour and was told by Sergeant Baron that Michael Clement was waiting to see him.
‘He said you was expecting him.’
‘I was indeed, only not quite this early. Is Sergeant Salter here yet?’
Barton shrugged. ‘I ain’t seen him.’
Riley thanked Barton, his relationship with whom had improved but was still dependent upon the sergeant’s moods, and made his way to his office. He’d not been there for five minutes before Salter put his head round the door.
‘Come on in, Jack, and close the door. There have been developments.’
He told Jack about his visit to Celeste the previous evening, playing down Henry’s role in the proceedings.
‘Blimey, sir,’ Salter replied, scratching his head. ‘I thought you was up to something.’
‘I couldn’t take you with me because the lady insisted that I attend alone. I wasn’t sure what she would have to say to me and whether it would be pertinent to the case. Since it was, and given that her husband has returned from France and is waiting to see us now, I felt it expedient to bring you up to date.’
‘Obliged, I’m sure.’ Salter rubbed his chin. ‘Iffing this Celeste specialised in the same line of work as Adelaide, does that mean your brother…’
Salter’s words trailed off in response to Riley’s admonishing look. ‘My brother’s involvement in any of this does not leave this room, Salter. Are we clear?’
‘As crystal, sir. It can’t have been easy for him to come to you, I would imagine.’
‘Very likely not.’ He went on to explain the conclusions he and Stout had reached. ‘Stout is going to the Lamb at lunchtime today to see what he can find out about Ray Clement.’ Riley stood. ‘In the meantime, I shall be most interested to hear what Michael has to tell us. Are you ready, sergeant?’
‘And willing, sir,’ Salter replied crisply, standing and opening the door for Riley to precede him through it.
Riley entered the austere room into which Michael Clement had been shown, wondering what sort of man had secured the fragrant Celeste’s affections. If he expected a mirror image of his brother, one glance was enough to disillusion him of that preconception. The man who stood up when Riley entered was tall and exceedingly handsome. Intelligent grey eyes assessed Riley and Salter, but concentrated upon the former. Despite the fact that he had presumably docked in London early that morning, Clement was impeccably attired in the fashion of a gentleman, and the moment he opened his mouth it quickly became apparent that he had the manners to match.
‘I apologise for keeping you waiting,’ Riley said, accepting the proffered hand that took his in a firm, cool grasp. ‘I am Inspector Rochester. This is Sergeant Salter. I imagine you are only just returned from France. It’s good of you to make this your first call.’
‘I went to Battersea first thing. Celeste told me of the developments during my absence.’ Clement resumed his seat and ran a hand through his thick hair. ‘I am devastated by what has happened to Adelaide. It is a tragedy and I shall do everything in my power to help you find the perpetrator of this violent crime. Upon that you have my firm assurance.’
‘Thank you.’ Riley’s initial impression was that the man was honest and sincere in his desire to help. ‘Perhaps you would care to start by explaining the nature of your relationship with Adelaide. I understand you were on the point of doing business together.’
‘My wife introduced us.’ Clement cleared his throat and gave Riley a direct look. ‘You have met Celeste and understand the nature of her previous profession.’
‘Previous?’ Salter raised a brow. ‘She told the inspector that she still sees some of her regular clients. Frankly, we wondered about that.’
‘You wonder how I could marry the lady and then permit her to continue plying her trade, I dare say.’ Clement shook his head. ‘Don’t imagine I am happy about it, but if we are to be free to live as husband and wife, openly and honestly, Celeste considers there is little choice. I don’t necessarily agree. It will take a longer for me to…however, to speak frankly, none of the men whom Celeste entertains are permitted to touch her. She is in complete control and her word is law.’
‘She is in charge of the exchanges, which her clients want and expect?’ Riley suggested.
‘Now, yes. But it wasn’t always that way.’
‘How can you be so sure that it is now?’
Again Clement fixed Riley with a direct look, making it clear that he knew of his wife’s liaison with Henry but could be trusted to remain silent on the point. ‘You can take my word for it, Inspector. My wife and I have no secrets. But we do want to leave England as soon as possible, and we need to amass as much money as we can in a short amount of time in order to fulfil our plans.’
‘The man who calls himself your brother represents the threat you hope to evade?’
Clement sighed. ‘You know of the tenuous relationship between us?’
‘He is the son of your father’s second wife and took your father’s name when they married, making him feel…feel what precisely?’
Clement lifted one shoulder. ‘Legitimate, I suppose. He never knew his own father and doubted whether his mother knew who he was either. He never attended school, not regularly at least, until he entered our household. He followed me around like a shadow, surly and suspicious at first. I felt sorry for him, so I encouraged him to improve his reading and writing and his basic educational skills, in the somewhat optimistic hope that we could work together. I know that would have made my father happy, and it was what Ray desperately wanted too. But, alas, one cannot make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. Ray lacks intellect, struggles to retain the most basic information and would be a liability in my business world.’ He straightened his cuffs and sighed. ‘I don’t say that to be unkind. I am merely stating a fact. God alone knows I tried, but the problem is that Ray refuses to recognise his shortcomings and is of the firm opinion that he is my equal in all respects because his mother encouraged him to think that
way. Sadly he is not, and never will be.’
‘That don’t explain why you’ve kept your marriage a secret from him,’ Salter said.
‘Does it not, sergeant? I should have thought it explained a great deal. Ray has ideas above his station and dislikes recalling what his mother was forced to resort to in order to put food on the table. Before my father married her, that is. I understand one or two of her customers were violent towards her and Ray witnessed those attacks at a young age. He once told me that the memories of her broken body and the frustration he felt at his inability to protect her had never left him. That accounts, I have often thought, for his predilection to resolve disputes with his fists. He is compensating as a man for his inadequacies as a boy to keep his mother safe.’
‘And you imagine that if he discovers your wife’s former occupation, it will bring it all back to him.’
‘Precisely so.’ Clement threw up his hands. ‘It sounds far-fetched, I’ll grant you, but Ray really does have a blind spot when it comes to women who sell themselves, no matter how desperate they happen to be. If he knew that Celeste…well, I cannot risk his ever finding out. Frankly, inspector, when Ray gets in a temper he terrifies me. Besides, if anything were to happen to me, he would inherit everything that I have.’
‘And when you tell him he can’t be of any help to you in your world, you are worried that he will take the ultimate revenge?’
‘I certainly cannot afford to ignore that possibility.’ Clement draped one hand casually over the arm of his chair. ‘Violence is Ray’s solution to every problem he encounters. He can flare up into the most alarming temper, especially when he is in his cups, and I am not willing to put Celeste’s safety at risk.’
‘Understandably so.’ Riley inclined his head. ‘Now that I have a clearer understanding of your situation, perhaps you would be so good as to tell me where Adelaide came into things.’
‘She and my wife were friends. Adelaide was in many respects Celeste’s protégée. Were you aware of that?’ Riley nodded. ‘Friendships between courtesans are rare but Celeste tells me that she and Adelaide were acquainted in their younger years. Adelaide turned to Celeste in her hour of need. Celeste felt protective of her and took her under her wing. Anyway, suffice it to say that she learned all about Adelaide’s history and her family’s involvement in the wine business. She knew that Adelaide burned for revenge against her uncle and aunt, especially when she learned of her mother’s premature demise, and that thirst for revenge became her raison d’être. Celeste tried to tell her that it wasn’t healthy to obsess over something that couldn’t be altered, but Adelaide refused to listen. Revenge, she told Celeste, was what drove her, what kept her sane, and if she didn’t keep the determination to avenge herself on the lot of them in the forefront of her mind, she would have no reason to carry on.’
Death of a Courtesan: Riley Rochester Investigates Page 19