If His Kiss Is Wicked. Jo Goodman

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ his expression did not invite protest. Marisol rose slowly to her feet and departed, looking over her shoulder only once before she slipped through the door. Emmalyn did not see the pleading expression cast in her direction, but Restell did not miss it.

      Emmalyn wished she might call back her confession. By speaking out of turn she had forced Restell’s hand. He never told her when he expected to receive the full accounting of events, but it looked as if the moment was upon them.

      She noticed that Restell Gardner had secured Sir Arthur’s full attention and a deeper measure of wariness as soon as he’d risen to his feet. He had a command of authority in his bearing that was bred in the bone, so intrinsic to his nature that he did not have to puff himself up to bring it about. He stood at his ease, just as he had when she’d met him, but it was as if the very air about him was charged with the force of his expectations. She had not observed this man before, the one who would brook no argument nor ask for favor. She no longer had any sense that he was but a few years older than she, so profound was his consequence. In the same vein, it was difficult to recall that she’d ever thought he was too easily amused. This man, the one who stood before her now, did not impress as one who smiled effortlessly or found humor in almost every aspect of the human condition.

      Here was a man who gave no quarter.

      “I will present you with the facts as I have come to learn them,” Restell said, addressing Sir Arthur. “Whether you accept them as such is for you to decide. One month ago, your niece went to Madame Chabrier’s as a kindness to your daughter. Miss Vega desired to end a flirtation with Mr. Jonathan Kincaid and asked Miss Hathaway to do the thing on her behalf.”

      Sir Arthur glanced at Emma, one eyebrow raised in question. She nodded faintly.

      “Miss Hathaway wore a pelisse and bonnet belonging to Miss Vega. When Miss Hathaway arrived at Madame Chabrier’s she was mistaken for Miss Vega at first glance by one of the shop girls. The reasons for this are twofold: the passing similarity of their features when Miss Hathaway is wearing garments associated with Miss Vega, and the relative infrequency of Miss Vega’s visits to this particular milliner. I have this information from both the shop girl and Madame Chabrier. It was Madame who corrected her employee’s mistake on the occasion of Miss Hathaway’s visit.”

      Emma stared at her hands in her lap as she struggled to recall the events of that afternoon. She could not bring to mind any exchange of words with the shop girl and had not even a fleeting recollection of speaking to the milliner. The effort to bring these things to the forefront of her thoughts merely made her head throb. She was uncomfortably aware of a weight settling on her chest that was making it difficult to breathe. She forced herself to concentrate on what Restell was saying, though it was as if he were speaking to her from a great distance. She leaned forward slightly and strained to hear.

      “Madame Chabrier remembered a gentleman coming into the shop while Miss Hathaway was there. Several young ladies visited moments later. She recalls this because Miss Hathaway was so gracious, even encouraging, in permitting her to inquire after the needs of her other patrons. She left Miss Hathaway to speak first to the gentleman, then the trio of young ladies. Assisting her latest arrivals took considerable time, and it was not until she finished the sale that she realized Miss Hathaway had absented herself from the shop. The gentleman was gone also, but this did not distress her as much as Miss Hathaway’s departure. Madame Chabrier felt certain she had missed the opportunity for an important sale, such was the interest in her goods that Miss Hathaway expressed. The gentleman, she remembers thinking, was unlikely to have purchased anything. She acknowledged that occasionally a gentleman will wander into her shop for the express purpose of meeting young ladies. She identified this gentleman of that particular ilk.”

      “Was it Kincaid?” Sir Arthur asked.

      “It seems possible, even likely, but to confirm it I need to have a detailed description of the man. Madame Chabrier offered information in the most general terms. Further inquiry on my part of so specific a nature would not have been prudent. You will understand that I did not want to entertain questions from the milliner.”

      “While there is much I have yet to comprehend,” Sir Arthur said, “that particular point I can grasp. You must explain to me why you trifled with the milliner when you could have the whole of it from Kincaid.”

      “Madame Chabrier is easily found in her establishment, while Mr. Jonathan Kincaid does not seem to have established an address in all of London.” Restell heard Emma’s sharp intake of air, the exclamation point of her surprise. She was also in the line of sight of her uncle’s disapproving glance. It occurred to Restell that permitting Marisol to leave had the consequence of bringing the full force of Sir Arthur’s displeasure down on Emmalyn’s head. She did not sink more deeply into her chair as he might have expected. This time she met her uncle’s eyes full on and refused to accept responsibility for what she could not have known.

      Restell brought Sir Arthur’s attention back to him as he continued explaining. “There are nine adult men answering to the name Jonathan Kincaid that I was able to locate. Five of them could never be mistaken in any company as gentlemen, residing as they have for years in Holborn, St. Giles, and the Blackfriars. Of the remaining four, one is in his seventh decade, another so portly and ill with gout as to be confined to his bed. The third is a student at Cambridge and was not in town a month ago, and the last is the Negro manservant of Lord Honeywell.

      “None of this means that Mr. Kincaid does not exist, but it casts suspicion on how he represented himself to Miss Vega. Indeed, for him to move with some freedom in the same circle as your daughter and Miss Hathaway, he has played false with many more of their society.”

      “There are rooming houses all over London,” Sir Arthur said. He folded his hands, exposing his knobby, arthritic knuckles to some painful pressure as he squeezed his fingers together. “Gentlemen of modest means often reside in places of that sort when they are in from the country.”

      “They do indeed, yet none of my informants found a man answering to that name in any of the reputable houses. To the extent that he truly existed under the name of Jonathan Kincaid, he has disappeared. He might well be in London, but he is employing another alias, thus, the necessity of a respectable description of the man.”

      “You shall have better than a description,” Sir Arthur said. “On the morrow you shall have a sketch of Kincaid. Marisol and Emmalyn will provide sufficient detail to render a drawing that you may use, within sensible limits, naturally. Is that satisfactory?”

      “It is.” Restell did not reveal his annoyance at the interruption caused by the arrival of tea. A maid set the tray beside Emma and disappeared without fussing over the service or inquiring if she might be of further assistance. At the brief entrance and exit of the maid Restell was able to see that Marisol was still hovering in the hallway. He had an unflattering picture of her pressing her ear to the door, hoping for some clear words that would indicate the depth of the trouble she was in with her father.

      “There is another construction that might be placed upon Mr. Kincaid’s disappearance,” Restell said after he was seated again and served a cup of tea. “One must at least entertain the notion that he is dead, murdered perhaps during that assault on Miss Hathaway. It is not entirely satisfactory as an explanation, not if he was a gentleman. It does not account for the difficulty in locating his residence or the fact that no one save me appears to be looking for him. It does not account for the fact that precious little is known about him, even by those who engaged him in conversation or invited him to their homes.”

      Sir Arthur frowned deeply again. His tea sat beside him, untouched. “Emmalyn, did you or did you not meet this villain at the milliner’s?”

      The steadiness of her voice surprised СКАЧАТЬ