Death of a Courtesan: Riley Rochester Investigates Read online

‘Now?’ Riley lifted a brow. ‘This is hardly the time or the place for private discourse.’

  ‘You are never at home, so where else can I hope to catch you?’

  Henry’s complaint lacked its customary edge. Riley noticed worry lines etched deep on his brother’s brow and felt stirrings of unease. If Henry was sufficiently distracted to share his concerns with Riley, of whom he had always been both dismissive and jealous, there had to be something seriously amiss. In the periphery of his vision he noticed his mother heading determinedly in his direction, a young woman Riley didn’t recognise at her side, which decided him.

  ‘Daniel’s study,’ Riley said. ‘We should be uninterrupted there.’

  The brothers edged away from the throng and made their escape, much to the obvious frustration of Riley’s mother, who watched them go with a look of resigned annoyance. But even she, who constantly berated Riley for not having more in common with Henry, couldn’t criticise him for taking a moment alone with his brother.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked, perching on the arm of a chair.

  Henry slumped into its twin and rubbed his face in his hands. ‘It’s delicate,’ he said.

  ‘I assumed it must be something sensitive to bring you running up to London.’ It was obvious that he hadn’t come to check up on Sophia.

  ‘Look, I don’t want you getting on your high horse with me…’

  ‘Hardly,’ Riley responded, aware that he was seeing glimpses of his brother’s vulnerable side that were seldom revealed to anyone.

  ‘I don’t quite know how to put this tactfully so I might as well come right out and say it.’ Even so, he paused for so long that Riley wondered if he’d dosed off. ‘A friend of mine wishes to talk to you in private,’ he eventually said, looking everywhere except at Riley.

  Riley felt justified in his bemusement. ‘Someone in attendance this evening? You’re not in league with Mother to try and marry me off, are you?’ he asked, horrified.

  ‘Not everything is about your affairs, Riley,’ Henry replied with a sneer.

  ‘Very well then, make the introduction, by all means. Or is there something I need to know before you do so?’

  ‘She isn’t here. Our sister would never entertain her type.’

  Riley permitted his surprise to show. ‘We are discussing a courtesan?’ he asked.

  ‘Don’t look so shocked. I’m a man with needs, just like you are.’ He failed to meet Riley’s gaze. ‘I know I might seem a little…well, portentous on occasion—’

  ‘Just a little.’

  ‘Appearances have to be maintained. Examples set.’ Henry shifted his position in the chair he occupied. ‘I wouldn’t want to embarrass Celia so I have had to be discreet. She ain’t interested anymore, now that she can’t have more children. Not there she was ever too enthusiastic, nor would I have expected her to be. She has ladylike sensibilities that must be respected. Besides, there are some things I couldn’t ask of her. Never have been able to.’

  The similarities between his current investigation and his brother’s difficulties paled into insignificance when compared to his father’s fatal attachment to his actress all those years ago. Henry was about the same age now as their father had been then. Succeeding heads of the Rochester clan shared the same tastes, it seemed. Riley tried not to disapprove but did wonder why Henry suddenly felt a pressing need to discuss his intimate affairs with a brother with whom he had little in common.

  ‘I assume you employed the lady’s exclusive services.’

  ‘Well…’ Henry spread his hands, causing Riley to shake his head in despair. His brother always had been tight with his blunt—another trait he had in common with their late father— but there were some instances where frugal behaviour became a false economy. ‘I kept hoping that my tastes would change and I would have no further need of her.’

  ‘And you have laid yourself open to blackmail.’ Riley shook his head despairingly. ‘You are a marquess, in case you need reminding. A target for every conman or woman in the south, which is why you needed to make private arrangements. Whores are conniving as a general rule and not to be trusted.’

  ‘Celeste is not—’

  Riley held up a hand to cut off his brother’s protests, thinking that Henry must be more smitten than he had at first realised. ‘If you had set the lady up as your mistress and kept her in style she would have had no reason to turn on you.’

  ‘Oh, she never would have turned on me.’

  Riley felt justifiably confused. ‘Then I fail to understand why we are having a conversation that will embarrass us both. I suppose she is threatening you and you want me to talk to her in my professional capacity.’

  ‘Celeste is not threatening me, damn it!’ Henry cried, frustrated. ‘Our understanding came to an end because she…well, she put an end to it.’

  Riley saw the torment on his brother’s face and realised he had got things entirely wrong. ‘You have developed feelings for her,’ he said softly and not without sympathy, ‘and didn’t want it to end.’

  Henry let out a long breath. ‘That’s about the size of it. It started out as harmless fun. She was recommended by a friend but I soon became dependent upon her specialist talents and didn’t want to share her.’ His eyes, when he glanced up at Riley, were moist. ‘I offered to establish her in the manner that you just now suggested and thought she would jump at the opportunity.’ Henry shook his head. ‘I never should have rocked the boat because that’s when she told me she couldn’t be tied down, that she was leaving. Chichester had become too restrictive for a free spirit like her.’

  ‘She came to London?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘To work in a brothel?’

  ‘I doubt it. She attracted business through recommendation when in Chichester and I assume she does the same here. Not that I can bear to think of her…but anyway, I’ve been up to town on several occasions on flimsy excuses, trying to find her without success. Then, unexpectedly, I received a letter from her yesterday.’

  Riley flexed a brow. ‘Addressed to you at Rochester Hall? That was a little risky, was it not? What did the letter say?’

  ‘That’s why I’m here. She said that she needed to speak with you about an urgent matter. Something to do with your work. She said that if I told you it was about Mary, you would understand.’

  Riley nodded, understanding very well. ‘Go on,’ he invited, tamping down his excitement. A high-class courtesan who apparently knew Adelaide well enough to care about her death could prove to be the break in the case that had thus far eluded Riley.

  ‘She was most specific in that she refuses to speak to you officially, and will only talk to you alone.’

  ‘Presumably she gave an indication of where she is lodging.’

  ‘She gave me address but warned me that I would not be admitted if I called there.’ Henry shook her head. ‘You have to make her change her mind when you see her, Riley.’ He thumped his clenched fist on the arm of his chair. ‘Damn it, I can’t do without her.’

  Riley was embarrassed to notice that his brother’s cheeks were damp with tears. A lesser man might have enjoyed his mortification. Riley only felt sympathy for his plight.

  ‘I will see what I can do, but make no promises.’ He clasped Henry’s shoulder but resisted the urge to tell him to hold on to his dignity. He was aware how much pride it must have cost Henry to come running up to London and make such a humbling admission to a brother he’d always done his level best to undermine. It showed just how deep his feelings ran for Celeste. Riley worried that Henry, who to the best of Riley’s knowledge had never before put his own interests ahead of his position in society, might do something foolhardy.

  ‘Give me her address, Henry.’

  Henry ran off an address in Battersea from memory. Riley, unwilling to trust his own memory, reached for pen and ink on Daniel’s desk, made a note of it and folded the piece of paper into his inside pocket.

  ‘
I will see her early tomorrow evening and then meet you at White’s for a drink.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Henry shook his head. ‘You probably think me a weak-minded fool to get so emotional about a whore.’

  Riley thought of the devotion that Adelaide engendered in her customers and was truthfully able to assure his brother that he thought no such thing. He poured them both a measure of brandy from the decanter positioned on the sideboard and a modicum of colour gradually returned to Henry’s countenance.

  ‘Don’t try and see her, Henry. You will only frighten her off, and I need to speak with her about a murder investigation.’

  ‘Celeste would never—’

  ‘I am sure she had nothing to do with the crime in question, but she knows something and wants to help.’

  ‘Typical of her,’ Henry said with grudging admiration in his tone. ‘She has a conscience.’

  ‘Come along,’ Riley said when Henry looked as composed as he was ever likely to. ‘We had best rejoin the fray before our mother sends out a search party. It is not often that she has the pleasure of both her sons being seen in the same room so we must let her enjoy the moment.’

  Riley sought out Amelia, unsurprised to find her surrounded by several unattached males. He re-staked his claim by taking up a position at her side, discouraging the competition. Sophia joined them and Riley promised that he would take her for another drive in the park in the near future. Shortly thereafter he escorted Amelia home, having evaded his mother’s best efforts to introduce him to her latest protégée.

  ‘You and your brother were closeted in Daniel’s study for a long time,’ Amelia remarked as Stout drove them back to Chelsea. ‘Mending bridges?’

  Riley was tempted to tell her the truth. He’d told her more sensitive things about his investigations over the past few months. But this was Henry’s secret and Riley decided not to share it, not even with Salter, until he had spoken to the object of Henry’s affections for himself.

  ‘Just being reminded of my obligations.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘Again.’

  Chapter Ten

  The following morning’s visit to Adelaide’s brothers at the family warehouse in Cheapside bore little fruit. The brothers were characterless individuals responsible for the mundane side of the operation—accustomed to following orders rather than issuing them. Just a year apart in age, they looked and spoke alike and were almost impossible to tell apart. It was the charismatic uncle, Riley assumed, who found their customers and charmed them into purchasing their goods in bulk.

  ‘Didn’t either of you ever wonder what had happened to your sister?’ Salter asked, looking appalled by their apparent disinterest in her murder and the lack of emotion in their expressions.

  ‘Her name was never mentioned in our house,’ the elder brother, Cyril, replied, ‘not after our mother died. Our aunt forbade it.’

  ‘But at the time of her disappearance,’ Salter persisted. ‘Didn’t you care what had happened to her?’

  ‘We didn’t know she had run away. Not until it couldn’t be kept from us for any longer.’ Frank, the younger brother, offered that paltry explanation. ‘Mary was quite a bit younger than us, so we didn’t have much to do with her. She was our father’s favourite, spoiled and indulged, and repaid him by running off the moment he tried to put his foot down.’

  ‘About what?’ Riley asked. ‘Did they have a disagreement?’

  Cyril shook his head. ‘Not to my knowledge. Like my brother just explained, she had everything—’

  ‘Give or take a strict aunt.’

  ‘What?’ Both brothers looked confused by Salter’s mumbled aside.

  ‘Your father was seldom there,’ Riley pointed out. ‘Who took responsibility for your sister’s welfare when he was away?’

  The brothers shared a blank look and simultaneously shrugged.

  ‘Our mother and aunt, I would imagine,’ Frank said. ‘Mother was a soft touch but Aunt Ruth made sure she wasn’t taken advantage of. We were either at school or helping with the business when Mary went missing but didn’t know at the time what had happened. Aunt Ruth told us that she had gone to stay with friends for a while.’

  ‘And now we find that she ran away and became a whore, bringing shame on our entire family’ Cyril added bitterly.

  ‘Aunt Ruth was in the right of it,’ Frank said, tapping the side of a wine barrel and making a note of a piece of paper. ‘She insisted that no good would come of overindulging a sister who was too pretty for her own good. It will be disastrous for the family’s reputation if her profession becomes public knowledge.’

  Both brothers were sanctimonious individuals without an ounce of compassion. Cut from the same mould as their aunt, they were jealous and resentful of a sister who, regardless of what she’d been forced to become, had at least shown a little initiative.

  Riley badly wanted them to be culpable for Adelaide’s death but they had been at a prayer meeting on the night of the murder and had dozens of witnesses who could attest to the fact, led by their aunt. Riley couldn’t see any reason why either of them would want their sister dead, much less possess the wits to make such elaborate arrangements to have the deed carried out—unless they had discovered what she’d become and wanted to avoid the damage to their precious reputation that worried them so much.

  Her death had squarely focused the attention that she managed to avoid whilst alive on Adelaide and her real identity was bound to leak out. She had been as anxious to distance herself from her family as the majority of them were to see the back of her. But if the meeting with her uncle had resulted in Adelaide making threats of some sort against the family’s standing then something would have had to be done to silence her.

  Permanently.

  ‘Families, eh,’ Salter said, scowling as he and Riley were driven away in yet another hansom. ‘Think I’d be tempted to jump ship if I was related to that lot.’

  ‘We are all of us the product of our upbringing to a greater or lesser degree,’ Riley replied, sighing as he thought of the differences between himself and Henry—and the alarming similarities between Henry and their father. Had he not exerted himself from an early age Riley would have been moulded into a mirror image of the pompous marquess. Not that he had seemed quite so pompous the previous night when he’d admitted to his association with Celeste. More than an association, Riley conceded. Henry had become completely captivated by a woman who had a defining hold over his baser instincts. He had dropped everything and rushed up to London, a city he disliked, presumably in the hope that Celeste would entertain him again if he persuaded Riley to call upon her.

  Pathetic or desperate? Riley was unable to decide.

  He looked forward to making Celeste’s acquaintance, if only because he was curious about her. The majority of women in her line of work, having secured the affections of an influential marquess, would fight off all competitors for his sole attention. But Celeste had declined Henry’s offer and quit the area, thereby increasing Henry’s determination to have her. But was it an indication that she’d tired of Henry or was it a clever ploy to…to what? Men in Henry’s situation routinely kept mistresses and supported any children that resulted from the relationship. But they never, ever abandoned or divorced a legal wife so that the mistress could take her place. Society was tolerant of a man’s needs, but not that tolerant, and its doors would be firmly shut in Henry’s face if he was foolish enough to rid himself of his marchioness.

  ‘Our earliest influences never completely leave us—especially if those doing the influencing are as straitlaced as Adelaide’s aunt, with fixed opinions and an aversion to anything pleasurable,’ Riley added hastily, aware that he had fallen into silent contemplation upon a subject he wasn’t yet ready to share with Salter. ‘Those boys have been taught to look upon pleasurable activities as sinful.’

  Salter grunted.

  ‘I wonder why they have storage for their wine here, close to the docks. Well, actually I don�
��t. It’s obviously the most convenient location. What I don’t understand is why they have more storage at their home in Ware. All those outbuildings we saw, remember?’ Salter nodded. ‘Seems like a duplication of effort.’

  Salter sat a little straighter. ‘Do you think there’s some funny business going on?’ He grinned. ‘Please tell me those pious bastards are trying to evade paying duty on their wine, or something equally underhand that we can nab them for. I would dearly love to haul them in and throw the book at them, destroying their precious reputation in the process, even if we can’t get them for neglecting the gal.’

  Riley chuckled. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, Salter, but the wine would come in through the port here. They sell in large quantities to clubs and private establishments so they wouldn’t risk trying to evade duty.’ Riley rubbed his chin as the cab rattled along the rain-slicked streets towards Maiden Lane. Its wheels trundled through deep puddles, covering unwary pedestrians with a muddy spray. ‘Makes you wonder what those sheds on Huxton’s land are used for, but I don’t suppose they have anything to do with Adelaide’s murder, so we’ve got no reason to look into them.’

  ‘Yet,’ Salter growled. ‘Dare say I could invent one, if only to embarrass that sanctimonious old bint by having uniformed policemen crawling all over her property as ostentatiously as possible.’ He chuckled. ‘That would well and truly set the cat amongst the wine barrels. Imagine trying to explain that one at the church picnic.’

  ‘Now, now, Jack,’ Riley replied, chuckling. ‘Let’s not allow spite to dictate our actions.’

  Salter sniffed. ‘Don’t see why we shouldn’t. Spite has a lot going for it.’

  They arrived at Maiden Lane and were greeted by Tennyson, who was in shirtsleeves and looked as though he had only just got out of bed.

  ‘Oh, it’s you,’ he said without much enthusiasm, letting them in. ‘I hope you’ve come to tell us we can open our doors for business again. This delay is costing us dear.’

  ‘Glad to see you’re so concerned about the dead girl,’ Salter replied with a scowl.