Page 70 of Murder at the Seven Dials
She nodded, knowing where he was heading. “If St. John prefers men to women, then was Miss Lovejoy truly his mistress?”
“He could enjoy both men and women equally, could he not?” he replied, giving her a pointed look. Flustered heat rose to the tips of her ears.
She moved toward a shelf of books to keep from looking at him. “Yes, I suppose.”
A moment of silence ensued. A question was building in his mind; she could sense it through the thick, tense quiet.
“I take it that isn’t the case with the duke?”
She ran her finger along a few of the books’ spines. “It’s how I knew for certain he couldn’t be meeting with Miss Lovejoy.”
Audrey was curious as to what she would see on Mr. Marsden’s expression. Revulsion? Apprehension? Philip had once, he’d admitted to her, dreamed of acceptance from those he loved, like his brothers Michael and Tobias; but some of their disparaging comments about molly houses and buggery and unnatural acts had made it clear where they would stand on the issue.
However, society had rigid rules that required following. Walking outside the lines of those rules caused people to question your mental ability, your very soul.
Mr. Marsden walked the perimeter of the small study, hands in his pockets, brow furrowed. “He was meeting with another man at Jewell House. Might it have been St. John?”
Audrey had been slowly coming around to that speculation too. Philip had been meeting a man in those rooms, but not knowing who it was had been a kind of protection from the truth. Putting a face to the man was a different feeling altogether.
“I’m sorry if this is difficult for you,” Mr. Marsden said softly.
She turned from the books in time to see his earnest expression. “Thank you.” It was difficult, though perhaps not for the reasons he assumed. The infidelity alone did not injure her as much as Philip’s keeping it a secret from her.
“I could ask Philip,” she offered before anything more could be said.
He shook his head. “I’d rather you not come to Bow Street again.”
Audrey parted her lips to argue that she would go wherever she pleased, but he continued, “We were seen at the Brown Bear together by some other patrolmen, and I’ve been fielding questions about your involvement.” He cleared his throat and rocked back onto his heels a bit. “Aboutourinvolvement.”
“Oh.” Theyhadbeen spending more time than was proper together. More questions would surely arise after tonight at the opera, too. She eyed the drapes, thankfully pulled.
“I will speak to His Grace,” Mr. Marsden offered.
“He won’t tell you anything.”
“I might find a way to convince him.” He came toward her, his hands still in his pockets.
A bubbling of apprehension drove her forward, and she met him at the arm of the sofa. “With threats? I won’t allow it.”
He held up his hand. “No threats. You have my word.”
Audrey drew back, uncertain. She trusted him, but how he planned to convince Philip to speak about his deepest, darkest secret, however, mystified her.
“Very well,” she said. “I won’t go to Bow Street. But Mr. Marsden, please, make it clear to him that you discovered it on your own, that I…that I wasn’t the one who revealed…”
Philip wouldn’t believe she would say anything. Would he?
He nodded. “I’ll be clear.”
A few seconds ticked by. It was time for him to leave. There was nothing more to be said, and yet Hugh breathed deeply and asked, “Indulge my curiosity for a moment?”
She shifted back on her heels a little, curious herself at what he might be about to ask. She could say no; bid him goodnight. He would turn to leave, surely. Instead, she nodded.
“Did you know from the outset? His feelings, I mean…before you wed?”
Strange. Audrey had never discussed this with anyone, except Philip, of course. But at this personal question, she felt like opening the door wider rather than slamming it shut.
Her heart beat faster. “Yes.”
