Garden of Lies(14)

As the sole offspring of the decades-long love affair that had existed between Lilly and Edward, Slater had been born with an entrée into two very different worlds. His mother’s extensive connections in the theater and the less-than-respectable classes of society known among the elite as the demimonde ensured him a welcome in that sphere.

The fact that his father had always acknowledged him and had provided him with both an upper-class education and a sizable inheritance had been enough to guarantee that he would be received in most upper-class circles. True, the inheritance had been cut off for a time, but that situation had changed dramatically upon the death of Edward Roxton. In his new position as the sole trustee of the Roxton fortune, Slater knew that most of Polite Society was happy to welcome him into its drawing rooms and ballrooms.

But it was his complete lack of regard for the opinion of the Polite World combined with the mystery of his long absence from London that rendered him fascinating to those who inhabited the more rarified reaches of the social universe.

“Kindly lower your voice,” he said. “You know I am a great admirer of your talents but I have had enough theatrics from my household staff to last me a lifetime. Mrs. Webster is going about her duties as if someone in the family just died. I’m surprised she isn’t hanging crepe in the drawing room. Mr. Webster and Griffith are acting as if they suspect me of having committed a grave crime.”

Lilly brushed all that aside with a grand wave of one beringed hand but she did moderate her voice.

“What reason did my Mrs. Kern give you for leaving her post?” she asked.

Slater drank some of his coffee while he considered how to answer the question. He had been expecting it. During the course of the twenty-minute journey from his house to Lilly’s elegant little town house, he had considered any number of answers. None that did not include the truth seemed sufficient, however. And he was not about to reveal Ursula’s intentions to investigate her friend’s murder—not until he obtained her consent.

“She is not your Mrs. Kern,” he pointed out. “In fact, I have the impression that Ursula Kern does not belong to anyone except herself. She is a very independent-minded female.”

“Which explains why I like her so much, of course,” Lilly said. “I interviewed any number of secretaries before I heard about the Kern agency. I knew as soon as I met her that I wanted her and no one else to take down my plays and transcribe them on a typewriter. As the proprietor of the agency, she accepts very few private clients, herself, you know. I thought she would be perfect for you and she did me the great favor of agreeing to take you on.”

Slater raised his brows. “Please do not tell me that you were matchmaking.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Lilly said. “I know how you feel about that sort of thing.”

The denial sounded firm but the cool, quick response was a bit too smooth, Slater decided. His mother had almost certainly tried to do some matchmaking. He decided this was not the time to tell her that, for once, she might have succeeded, at least in part. The sweet, hot ache of desire that gripped him the first time Ursula walked through his door had shaken him to his core. But he had seen the wariness in her eyes and had told himself that he would have to take things slowly and cautiously.

Now, it seemed, he had destroyed his original strategy by engaging in a quarrel with the very woman he had hoped to seduce. But if surviving Fever Island had taught him anything, it had made him very, very good at not giving up on an objective.

After Ursula had walked out yesterday he had spent what was left of the afternoon concocting a new plan. It wasn’t much as strategy went and he had learned the hard way that very few plans worked as intended, but any plan was preferable to none at all.

“Mrs. Kern explained that one of her secretaries was found dead recently, a probable suicide,” he said. He preferred to stick with the truth in so far as it was possible. It meant that one had to keep fewer balls in the air at any given time. “Evidently she feels obliged to assume the secretary’s duties with a long-standing client until other arrangements can be made.”

“Why doesn’t Ursula simply send one of her other secretaries to the client?” Lilly asked. “Why does she have to be the one to take over the dead woman’s responsibilities?”

“You will have to ask her that question if you want an answer.” Slater set his cup and saucer on a small table. “All I can tell you is that she informed me she had to terminate our arrangement until further notice.”

“I’m not sure I believe you,” Lilly said. “I think you do have some notion of why Ursula felt it necessary to leave your employ, but you are keeping it from me. Are you certain you didn’t do or say anything that made her feel . . . uneasy in your company? I know you would never deliberately set out to offend a lady but you have spent very little time here in London in the past few years. I’m sorry to say your manners have become somewhat rusty.”

“I think that if Mrs. Kern objected to my manners, she would have mentioned it quite early on,” he said.

“Not necessarily. She may have attempted to grow accustomed to your eccentricities but in the end concluded she could not.”

Slater went still.

“What the devil do you mean about my eccentricities?” he asked.

“You know very well what I mean. If you don’t, I suggest you consult the latest edition of The Flying Intelligencer or one of the penny dreadfuls that features you. Ever since you returned to London two months ago, the press has run wild with rumors about your eccentric nature and odd behaviors.”