Page 20 of The Hazardous Measure of Love
He shook his head. ‘No, these will be independent ladies, coming together for a little mutual protection, I imagine. It enables them to maintain excellent lodgings in a highly fashionable area and share the costs of housekeeper, maids and cook. I wager there are occasional upsets if one tries to poach another’scher ami.’
‘I had imagined their male friends would set them up in their own houses,’ I said.
‘That is the hope of all of them, no doubt,’ Luc agreed. ‘But it is an expensive undertaking. Not that I would know,’ he added, clearly expecting the elbow again.
‘Madame will receive you.’ The maid came as far as the half-landing, and we followed her up to the next floor. She tapped on a door, opened it and gestured for us to enter.
I deliberately stayed behind Luc, which meant I was able to observe the full effect of La Vaillant as she sighted a new prospect.
‘Lord Radcliffe! But how delightful!’ She came forward, all heaving lace and fluttering satin ribbons, more or less securing what I suppose was best described as a negligee. It screamed expensive seduction and I backed away even more as the wave of perfume hit me. It wasn’t that she had overdone it – in fact it was quite subtle – but it was so sensual and heady that it made me think of silken sheets. ‘You have come for a little conversation, perhaps?’ Her smile made it clear that talking was not at all what she expected Luc to want.
Then she saw me and the mood changed. The smile was still there, but somehow the lace and ribbons stopped fluttering, her eyes lost that hot, heavy look and her voice, its purr. ‘Mademoiselle?’
My clothes were too good and too restrained for her to imagine that I was a maidservant, or one of her sisterhood, for that matter. ‘Cassandra Lawrence,’ I said, smiling my bestNow we’re all going to be reasonable about this, aren’t we?smile that I had perfected for those tricky moments on patrol when too much drink has been taken and the appearance of a Special Constable can tip the balance one way or another. ‘Thank you so much for seeing us.’ I let the smile fade into an expression of solemnity and watched her face grow wary. ‘I am afraid we have bad news about a… friend of yours.’
‘Who?’ she demanded imperiously.
‘Lord Tillingham,’ I said, watching her closely. ‘He is dead.’
I expected shock – real or feigned. A faint, again, possibly false. Wild sobs, disbelief, anything but what she said.
‘Dead? What about my diamonds?’
‘Your… Madame, Lord Tillingham isdead.Deceased.Murdered,’ I added, feeling remarkably like a re-run of Monty Python’s Dead Parrot Sketch.No, the Viscount is not resting, stunned or pining for the fjords…I managed to get control of incipient hysteria and said, more moderately, ‘I realise this must be a terrible shock.’
She shrugged magnificently, causing an agitation under the lace and satin of the boudoir gown that was probably enough to resuscitate most straight males from a deep coma. Luc, certainly, appeared fascinated. Perhaps I was unfair and he was merely baffled by the woman. I refrained from kicking his ankle.
‘He is nothing to me. What does it matter that he is dead? Tell that Prescott man, his secretary, to send me the diamonds I was promised.’
‘Mr Adrien Prescott has no authority to dispose of any item belonging to the late Viscount,’ Luc said. Quite bravely, I thought, considering that Madame’s eyes were now narrowed, her bosom positively heaving and her right hand was reaching towards the china ornaments on the nearest side table. ‘I will ask him to send you the address of the solicitor dealing with the estate.’
In a startling change of mood the Frenchwoman hurled herself onto the sofa and began to weep stormily. It was a bravura performance, but I didn’t believe it had anything to do with grief.
I saw a lacy scrap of handkerchief on the side table and took it to her. ‘He promised you diamonds when you broke up with him?’ I asked. I wasn’t daft enough to word it to sound as though he had dismissed her.
‘Of course.’ She reared upright, with no sign of tears on her powdered cheeks. ‘But I would not be swayed. Even so, they were promised to me.’
‘He was a meticulous man,’ Luc said. ‘Doubtless he made a memorandum of his intentions.’
‘Indeed.’ She nodded graciously to Luc. Not to me. ‘Did you say murdered? By whom? It was a duel?’
At last, some natural curiosity: I wasn’t expecting concern. ‘No, not a duel. The killer is unknown. Why did you think of a duel?’
‘Over me,naturellement.’
I managed not to roll my eyes. ‘Other than most understandable envy at Lord Tillingham’s er, friendship, with you, can you think who might have a motive to kill him?’
Again, the shrug, with associated heaving and quivering. I was going to have to get Luc out of there before his blood pressure went off the scale. ‘I have no idea.’
‘He did not mention anyone making threats against him? Any strange occurrences? He must have confided in you.’
‘No. He did not waste time talking when he was with me.’ The purr was back.
‘In that case, thank you for your time, Madame,’ Luc said. He had to clear his throat first, I noticed. ‘We will not take up any more of it.’
She waved us out gracefully enough, although still with a calculating glint in her eyes as she looked at Luc.
‘Thank goodness you had a bodyguard,’ I said as we stood outside again. ‘I could see her adding you to her shopping list. An earl is an advance on a viscount, never mind the fact that you are far more handsome, and certainly more interesting, than poor Tillingham.’
