A Dangerous Fortune(163)

Augusta’s door was opened not by her butler but by a slovenly woman in an apron. Passing through the hall, Micky noticed that the place was not very clean. Augusta was in difficulties. So much the better: it would make her more inclined to go along with his plan.

However, she appeared her usual imperious self as she came into the drawing room in a purple silk blouse with leg-of-mutton sleeves and a black flared skirt With a tiny pinched waist. She had been a breathtakingly beautiful young woman and now, at fifty-eight, she could still turn heads. He recalled the lust he had felt for her as a boy of sixteen, but there was none left. He would have to fake it.

She did not offer him her hand. “Why have you come here?” she said coldly. “You’ve brought ruin to me and my family.”

“I didn’t intend to—”

“You must have known that your father was about to launch a civil war.”

“But I didn’t know that Cordovan bonds would become valueless because of the war,” he said. “Did you?”

She hesitated. Obviously she had not.

A crack had opened in her armor and he tried to widen it. “I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known—I would have cut my own throat before harming you.” He could tell that she wanted to believe this.

But she said: “You persuaded Edward to deceive his partners so that you could have your two million pounds.”

“I thought there was so much money in the bank that it could never be harmed.”

She looked away. “So did I,” she said quietly.

He pressed his advantage. “Anyway, it’s all irrelevant now—I’m leaving England today, and I will probably never come back.”

She looked at him with sudden fear in her eyes, and he knew he had her. “Why?” she said.

There was no time for beating about the bush. “I have just shot and killed a man and the police are chasing me.”

She gasped and took his hand. “Who?”

“Antonio Silva.”

She was excited as well as shocked. Her face colored a little and her eyes became bright. “Tonio! Why?”

“He was a threat to me. I’ve booked passage on a steamer leaving Southampton tonight.”

“So soon!”

“I have no choice.”

“And so you’ve come to say good-bye,” she said, and she looked downcast.

“No.”

She looked up at him. Was that hope in her eyes? He hesitated, then took the plunge. “I want you to come with me.”

Her eyes widened. She took a step back.

He kept hold of her hand. “Having to leave—and so quickly—has made me realize something I should have admitted to myself a long time ago. I think you have always known it. I love you, Augusta.”

As he acted his part he watched her face, reading it the way a sailor reads the surface of the sea. For a moment she tried to put on a look of astonishment, but she abandoned it almost immediately. She gave the hint of a gratified smile, then a faint blush of embarrassment that was almost maidenly; and then a calculating look that told him she was reckoning up what she had to gain and lose.

He saw she was still undecided.

He put his hand on her corseted waist and drew her gently toward him. She did not resist, but her face still wore that appraising look which told him she had not made up her mind.

When their faces were close and her breasts were touching the lapels of his coat, he said: “I can’t live without you, dear Augusta.”

He could feel her trembling beneath his touch. In a shaky voice she said: “I’m old enough to be your mother.”

He spoke into her ear, brushing her face with his lips. “But you aren’t,” he said, making his voice almost a whisper. “You’re the most desirable woman I’ve ever met. I’ve longed for you all these years, you know that. Now …” He moved his hand up from her waist until he was almost touching her breast. “Now I can hardly keep my hands under control. Augusta …” He paused.

“What?” she said.

He almost had her, but not quite. He had to play his last card.

“Now that I’m no longer minister, I can divorce Rachel.”

“What are you saying?”

He whispered into her ear: “Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” she said.

He kissed her.

3

APRIL TILSLEY BURST INTO Maisie’s office at the Female Hospital, dressed to the nines in scarlet silk and fox fur, carrying a newspaper and saying: “Have you heard what’s happened?”

Maisie stood up. “April! What on earth is it?”

“Micky Miranda shot Tonio Silva!”

Maisie knew who Micky was, but it took her a moment to remember that Tonio had been one of that crowd of boys around Solly and Hugh when they were young. He had been a gambler in those days, she recalled, and April had been very sweet on him until she discovered that he always lost what little money he had in wagers. “Micky shot him?” she said in amazement. “Is he dead?”

“Yes. It’s in the afternoon paper.”

“I wonder why?”

“It doesn’t say. But it also says—” April hesitated. “Sit down, Maisie.”

“Why? Tell me!”

“It says the police want to question him about three other murders—Peter Middleton, Seth Pilaster and … Solomon Greenbourne.”