Garden of Lies(29)

“Mrs. Kern, allow me to present Lord Pyne, the generous collector who donated these antiquities to the museum,” Slater said in cold, formal tones.

“Lord Pyne,” Ursula murmured.

“Mrs. Kern, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Pyne bowed over Ursula’s gloved hand. Then he straightened abruptly. “Who’s that admiring my Venus? I do believe it’s Torrence and his charming wife. Well, well, well. Roxton and Torrence. Two of the most esteemed antiquities experts in England have come to inspect my artifacts. I am deeply gratified.”

“It is a very interesting collection,” Slater said. He tightened his grip on Ursula’s arm. “But I’m afraid Mrs. Kern and I must be off. We have a pressing engagement.”

“Of course, of course. But first you must give me your opinion on the Venus.” Pyne raised his voice, although that was not necessary. “I should like your views, as well, Torrence.”

“The figure is quite . . . robust,” Slater said.

Torrence and his wife took a few steps toward where Slater and Ursula stood with Pyne.

“Your Venus certainly draws the eye,” Torrence allowed. He avoided looking at Slater.

“And the ladies?” Pyne chuckled. “I would be remiss if I did not ask for your opinions.”

“I know very little about antiquities,” Lady Torrence said in a strained voice. “That is my husband’s area of expertise.”

She managed a demure smile but she was watching Slater with eyes that were wide with an expression that bordered on horror.

“Mrs. Kern?” Pyne prompted. “What do you think of my Venus?”

“She is obviously the star attraction in your fascinating collection, sir,” Ursula said. “And now, if you don’t mind, Mr. Roxton is correct. We do have another appointment.”

“I would not dream of delaying you,” Pyne said. “Run along, both of you. And I thank you, again, Roxton, for coming here to view my collection this morning. Your positive opinion, combined with Torrence’s, will ensure that these antiquities will attract any number of visitors. Indeed, I expect your visit and your comments will be in the morning papers. Next thing I know, the Pyne Collection will be famous around the world.”

“I have no doubt of that,” Slater said.

Evidently concluding that there was no longer any point trying to evade Torrence and his wife, he took the frontal assault approach to the problem. Instead of trying to escape via the rear door, he tightened his grip on Ursula’s elbow and guided her back toward the main entrance of the gallery.

The path took them directly past Torrence and the terrified Lady Torrence. Ursula gave the woman what she hoped was a polite, reassuring smile but that only seemed to further alarm Lady Torrence. She clutched her husband’s arm.

Torrence watched Slater the way a man might watch a tiger, as if he was waiting for the beast to spring.

Slater took the initiative, nodding curtly but never slowing his pace.

Torrence’s jaw tightened and his eyes clenched at the corners. He acknowledged the greeting with an equally brusque inclination of his head. Ursula felt Slater hesitate almost imperceptibly. She got the impression that he was contemplating the possibility of turning back to confront Torrence. Determinedly, she kept going, forcing him to keep up with her.

“Damn,” Slater said. But he said it so that only she could hear.

Ursula did not halt until they were safely outside on the street.

“That was a trifle awkward,” she said after a moment of acute silence. “I think Lady Torrence was actually afraid that you and her husband would come to blows right there in the middle of the museum.”

“Why would I engage in a fight with Torrence?”

“Well, according to some sources, there is a possibility that your former partner and supposed friend deliberately triggered the trap that nearly killed you in those temple caves. Following the disaster, Torrence sailed home to London with the fabulous treasure the two of you discovered—a treasure which has since disappeared, I might add. Some would say that sort of thing is sufficient to engender a deep dislike and distrust between two men.”

Slater glanced at her, amused. Sunlight glinted on the lenses of his spectacles. “What sources are you citing, Mrs. Kern?”

“Just the usual. The gutter press.”

“I thought so. I’m afraid they are somewhat misinformed.”

She smiled. “I’m shocked. The press? Misinformed?”

“Not all of the facts are wrong. But one thing is clear—Torrence hates me for having survived Fever Island,” Slater exhaled heavily. “I have no idea why, but there is no escaping that conclusion.”

“Oh, no,” Ursula said quickly. “That wasn’t hate that I detected in him or in his wife, either.”

“What, then?”

“Fear.”

“That makes no sense.”

“It does if he thinks you blame him for what happened on Fever Island. I realize it is none of my business but would you care to tell me exactly what did occur?”

“Considering that the story of our encounter with Lord and Lady Torrence will no doubt be the chief topic of conversation at breakfast all over London tomorrow morning, you have a right to some answers.”





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