A Dangerous Fortune(141)

She quickly got bored. “Do you like these pictures?” she asked him.

He shrugged and did not answer. He did not want to talk to her. He had very little interest in women for their own sake. The sexual act itself was a humdrum mechanical process. What he liked about sex was the power it gave him. Women and men had always fallen in love with him and he never tired of using their infatuation to control, exploit and humiliate them. Even his youthful passion for Augusta Pilaster had been in part the desire to tame and ride a spirited wild mare.

From that point of view, Henrietta offered him nothing: it was no challenge to control her, she had nothing worth exploiting her for, and there was no satisfaction in humiliating someone as low down on the scale as a prostitute. So he smoked his cigar and worried about whether Edward would come.

An hour went by, and then another. Micky began to lose hope. Was there some other way to reach Edward? It was very difficult to get to a man who really did not want to be seen. He could be “not at home” at his house and unavailable at his place of work. Micky could hang around outside the bank to catch Edward leaving for lunch, but that was undignified, and anyway Edward could easily just ignore him. Sooner or later they would meet at some social occasion, but it might not happen for weeks, and Micky could not afford to wait that long.

Then, just before midnight, April put her head around the door and said: “He’s arrived.”

“At last,” Micky said with relief.

“He’s having a drink but he says he doesn’t want to play cards. He’ll be with you in a few minutes, I’d guess.”

Micky’s tension mounted. He was guilty of a betrayal about as bad as could be imagined. He had allowed Edward to suffer for a quarter of a century under the illusion that he had killed Peter Middleton when in fact Micky had been the guilty one all along. It was a lot to ask Edward to forgive.

But Micky had a plan.

He posed Henrietta on the sofa. He made her sit with the hat over her eyes and her legs crossed, smoking a cigarette. He turned the gaslights down low then went and sat on the bed, behind the door.

A few moments later Edward came in. In the dim light he did not notice Micky sitting on the bed. He stopped in the doorway, looking at Henrietta, and said: “Hullo—who are you?”

She looked up and said: “Hello, Edward.”

“Oh, it’s you,” he said. He shut the door and came inside. “Well, what’s the ‘something special’ April has been talking about? I’ve seen you in a tailcoat before.”

“It’s me,” Micky said, and stood up.

Edward frowned. “I don’t wish to see you,” he said, and turned toward the door.

Micky stood in his way. “At least tell me why. We’ve been friends too long.”

“I’ve found out the truth about Peter Middleton.”

Micky nodded. “Will you give me a chance to explain?”

“What is there to explain?”

“How I came to make such an awful mistake, and why I never had the courage to admit it.”

Edward looked mulish.

Micky said: “Sit down, just for a minute, by Henrietta, and let me speak.”

Edward hesitated.

Micky said: “Please?”

Edward sat on the sofa.

Micky went to the sideboard and poured him a brandy. Edward took it with a nod. Henrietta moved close to him on the sofa and took his arm. Edward sipped his drink, looked around, and said: “I hate these paintings.”

“Me too,” said Henrietta. “They give me the shivers.”

“Shut up, Henrietta,” said Micky.

“Sorry I spoke, I’m sure,” she said indignantly.

Micky sat on the opposite sofa and addressed Edward. “I was wrong, and I betrayed you,” he began. “But I was sixteen years old, and we’ve been best friends for most of our lives. Are you really going to throw that away for a schoolboy peccadillo?”

“But you could have told me the truth at any time in the last twenty-five years!” Edward said indignantly.

Micky made his face sad. “I could have, and I should have, but once a lie like that is told, it’s hard to take it back. It would have ruined our friendship.”

“Not necessarily,” Edward said.

“Well, it has now … hasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Edward said, but there was a tremor of uncertainty in his voice.

Micky realized the time had come to go all out.

He stood up and slipped off his robe.

He knew he looked good: his body was still lean, and his skin was smooth except for the curly hair at his chest and groin.

Henrietta immediately got up from the sofa and knelt in front of him. Micky watched Edward. Desire flickered in his eyes, but then he glowered obstinately and looked away.

In desperation Micky played his last card.

“Leave us, Henrietta,” he said.

She looked startled, but she got up and went out.

Edward stared at Micky. “Why did you do that?” he said.

“What do we need her for?” Micky replied. He stepped closer to the sofa, so that his groin was just inches from Edward’s face. He put out a tentative hand, touched Edward’s head, and gently stroked his hair. Edward did not move.

Micky said: “We’re better off without her … aren’t we?”