A Dangerous Fortune(113)
For a moment Micky was tempted to strike him—but only for a moment. Anyway, the lawyer would undoubtedly charge him with assault, and such a scandal could blight a diplomatic career. Rachel was not worth that.
It was a standoff. What am I fighting for? he asked himself. “You can keep her,” he said. “I’ve finished with her.” He went back into the house and slammed the door.
He heard the carriage drive away. To his surprise he found himself regretting Rachel’s departure. He had married her purely for convenience, of course—it had been a way of persuading Edward to marry—and it some respects life would be simpler without her. But in a curious way he had enjoyed the daily clash of wits. He had never had that with a woman. However, it was often tiresome too, and he told himself that on balance he would be better off alone.
When he had caught his breath, he put on his hat and went out. It was a mild summer night with a clear sky and bright stars. London’s air always tasted better in summer, when people did not need to burn coal to warm their houses.
As he walked down Regent Street he turned his mind to business. Since he had had Tonio Silva beaten up a month ago he had heard no more of his article about the nitrate mines. Tonio was probably still recovering from his wounds. Micky had sent Papa a coded telegram with the names and addresses of the witnesses who had signed Tonio’s affidavits, and they were probably dead by now. Hugh had been made to look foolish, for having started an unnecessary scare, and Edward was delighted.
Meanwhile, Edward had got Solly Greenbourne to agree in principle to float the Santamaria railroad bonds jointly with Pilasters. It had not been easy: Solly was as suspicious of South America as most investors were. Edward had been obliged to offer a higher commission and take a share in a speculative scheme of Solly’s before the deal could be closed. Edward had also played on the fact that they were old school friends, and Micky suspected it was Solly’s softheartedness that had tipped the balance in the end.
Now they were drawing up contracts. It was a painfully slow business. What made life difficult for Micky was that Papa could not understand why these things could not be done in a few hours. He was demanding the money right away.
However, when Micky thought of the obstacles he had overcome he was quite pleased with himself. After Edward turned him down flat the task had seemed impossible. But with Augusta’s help he had maneuvered Edward into marriage and a partnership in the bank. Then he had dealt with opposition from Hugh Pilaster and Tonio Silva. Now the fruits of all his efforts were about to fall into his hands. Back home the Santamaria railroad would always be Micky’s railroad. Half a million pounds was a vast sum, greater than the military budget of the entire country. This one achievement would count for more than everything his brother Paulo had ever done.
A few minutes later he stepped into Nellie’s. The party was in full swing: every table was occupied, the air was thick with cigar smoke, and ribald banter and raucous laughter could be heard over the sound of a small orchestra playing loud dance tunes. All the women wore masks. Some were simple dominoes but most were more elaborate, and a few were entire headdresses covering everything but the eyes and mouth.
Micky pushed his way through the crowd, nodding at acquaintances and kissing some of the girls. Edward was in the card room, but he got up as soon as Micky walked in. “April’s got a virgin for us,” he said thickly. It was late, and he had drunk a lot.
Virginity had never been Micky’s particular obsession, but there was always something stimulating about a girl who was frightened, and he was titillated. “How old?”
“Seventeen.”
Which probably meant twenty-three, Micky thought, knowing how April estimated the ages of her girls. Still, he was intrigued. “Have you seen her?”
“Yes. She’s masked, of course.”
“Of course.” Micky wondered what her story was. She might be a provincial girl who had run away from home and found herself destitute in London; she might have been abducted from a farm; she might just be a housemaid fed up with slaving sixteen hours a day for six shillings a week.
A woman in a little black domino touched his arm. The mask was no more than a token, and he recognized April. “A genuine virgin,” April said.
No doubt she was charging Edward a small fortune for the privilege of taking the girl’s maidenhead. “Have you put your own hand up her, to feel her hymen?” Micky said skeptically.
April shook her head. “I don’t need to. I know when a girl is telling the truth.”
“If I don’t feel it pop you won’t get paid,” he said, even though they both knew Edward would be paying.
“Agreed.”
“What’s her story?”
“She’s an orphan, brought up by an uncle. He was eager to get her off his hands as soon as possible, and arranged for her to marry an older man. When she refused he put her out on the street. I rescued her from a life of drudgery.”
“You’re an angel,” Micky said sarcastically. He did not believe a word of it. Even though he could not read April’s expression behind the mask he had the strongest feeling that she was up to something. He gave her a skeptical look. “Tell me the truth,” he said.
“I have,” April said. “If you don’t want her, there are six other men here who’ll pay just as much as you.”
Edward said impatiently: “We want her. Stop arguing, Micky. Let’s have a look at her.”