Garden of Lies(28)

“I can assure you that Anne did not own any ball gowns, expensive or otherwise. She possessed some jewelry but it wasn’t the sort a woman would wear to a soiree. Her pieces were of a more practical nature—the kind of items a woman can wear to go out shopping or to tea with friends. There is a pretty little watch that could be pinned to a coat. A cameo. A locket. Her most expensive piece was a lovely chatelaine with a little silver notebook and pencil attached. A former client gave it to her. She loved that piece. But none of her jewelry was suited to a ballroom and neither were any of her gowns. Trust me when I tell you that if she had owned any items that fashionable or expensive she would have been unable to resist showing them to the rest of us at the office.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive,” Ursula said.

“Nevertheless, it strikes me as more than a coincidence that two women who are at least remotely linked to either Fulbrook or his club are dead. I think we should arrange to speak with Mrs. Wyatt, the proprietor of the brothel.”

“If she is making a great deal of money supplying prostitutes to the men who belong to the Olympus Club it is unlikely she will discuss her business affairs with us.”

“I’m hoping Lilly can persuade Mrs. Wyatt to talk to us.”

“Your mother is acquainted with her?”

“My mother’s connections reach far and wide,” Slater said.

Ursula smiled at the wry twist on his words.

“Yes, I did get that impression when I took dictation from her,” she said. “She was certainly one of the most interesting clients I’ve had.”

Slater started to make another comment but he stopped abruptly. Ursula realized that he had gone quietly alert, his attention snagged by something or someone at the far end of the hall.

When she turned to follow his gaze she saw a well-dressed, distinguished-looking gentleman and an attractive lady in a yellow and blue gown. The man was tall, blond and athletically built. He carried himself with the sort of languid self-possession that came naturally to one who descended from several generations of wealth and status. The lady appeared to come from the same world. The two were examining the sensually rendered Venus.

“Time for us to leave,” Slater said.

It was a command, not a suggestion. Nor did he wait for a response. Instead, he gripped Ursula’s elbow and headed toward the rear entrance of the gallery. She did not resist.

“Something amiss?” she asked softly.

“Someone, not something.”

“I take it we are fleeing the exhibition because of the gentleman and the lady who just arrived?” she asked.

“We are not fleeing, damn it.”

But Slater immediately slowed his pace. She knew he had not liked the implication that he was running away from the newcomers.

“Well, then?” she prompted. “Why are we rushing off? Do we have a pressing appointment?”

“Take it from me, it’s best that Torrence and I do not find ourselves in the same room together,” Slater growled.

“So that is Lord Torrence, your partner on the Fever Island expedition?”

“And his wife, Lady Torrence.”

“I understand now why you wish to leave,” Ursula said. “If the gossipmongers and the press discover that you and Torrence were both seen in the same gallery together there would no doubt be some wild speculation.”

“Precisely.”

“But what is the point of trying to avoid Lord Torrence? There are bound to be future encounters between the two of you. The Polite World is a very small town in most respects. I suggest that you simply act as if there is nothing out of the ordinary occurring.”

“Thank you for the advice,” Slater said. He sounded as if his jaw was clenched tight. “But as it happens I don’t give a damn about Torrence or the gossips. It is you I am attempting to protect.”

“Me?” She was dumbfounded. “But I am not involved in your dispute with Torrence.”

“That may not prevent Torrence from attempting to find a way to use you to strike at me.”

This time she was genuinely shocked. “Surely that nonsense about the bad blood between the two of you is just so much fodder for the press and the penny dreadfuls.”

“Not all of it. For what it’s worth, it’s a one-sided feud. He is the one who has avoided me since my return, Ursula.”

“Hmm.”

“What the devil is that supposed to mean?”

“Never mind. Just a fleeting thought. None of my concern, really.”

“Let’s get out of here.”

Slater whisked her along the gallery, past urns, statues and assorted bits and pieces of Roman armor. They very nearly made good their escape. But just as they were about to go through the door a very large, very rotund figure appeared directly in their path.

“Roxton.” The round man’s jovial voice boomed the length of the gallery and bounced off the walls. “Come to examine my collection, eh? I am honored, sir. Deeply honored. I’d heard that Torrence planned to put in an appearance but I must say it’s a surprise to see you here. I was told that you don’t get out much these days. Absolutely delighted that you made an exception for my little exhibition. I trust you will introduce me to your companion?”

They were caught, Ursula thought. Heads were turning. There was no escaping the scene. She could tell that Slater knew he was trapped. He brought her to a halt.