Grenville glanced at the writing and smiled. “You’ll find the answer already in your report. This residence belongs to her first cousin, a Mr. Roger Thorne.”
Julian’s eyebrows rose. “A courtesan who lives with a male cousin? The house and surroundings seemed respectable. Could Mr. Thorne not provide for his relative in some other manner?”
“Perhaps she, like you, chooses to be ‘disreputable,’” Grenville chided Julian. “You were not scandalized by her profession until it occurred to you she might not need to pursue it.”
“I’m not scandalized,” Julian muttered.
Miss Thorne could do as she pleased. His disinclination to imagine her lying with other gentlemen was of absolutely no significance whatsoever.
“For the record,” Grenville continued, “she has not lived at that address in some years.”
“What?” Julian sat up with a start. “Why would she give me a false address?”
“Because she doesn’t want you to know her real one?” Grenville asked innocently.
Julian scowled at him. “What is her current address?”
“I’m investigating,” Grenville assured him.
“It makes no sense.” Julian swirled his port without sipping it. “Courtesans entertain at their homes. Why not share its location with me?”
“Why would she need to?” Grenville countered. “Your reputation for never repeating romantic encounters is universally known. Unless your habits have changed?”
“I never change.”
He had kissed her twice, but he did not yet need to stop. The rule was never to repeatlovemakingwith the same individual. No exceptions.
“I should’ve known you’d never relax a rule,” Grenville said wryly. “Or... relax.”
“I relax!” Julian protested.
This assertion was not, normally, the case. However, there was no better way to describe his encounter with Miss Thorne at the market than an extraordinary episode of unplanned relaxing.
“Tell me about the cousin,” he ordered. “When did she cease to live with him?”
“Some years after he opened a gentlemen’s club. Have you heard of the Wit & Whistle?”
Julian frowned. “Maybe I did, once.”
“That is the way of it. The Wit & Whistle was ignored and unfrequented for years. It then briefly became quite popular, before fading back into oblivion.”
Julian shrugged. “I pay no attention to such things. I am not a member of any club.”
“Of course not. You confine all your vices to the six hour period of your masquerade.”
“Eight hours,” Julian muttered.
Grenville grinned at him, making it obvious he’d purposefully provoked Julian into correcting the precise duration of his scheduled weekly amusement, rather than address the implication he rarely left his home.
“Will you be visiting the cousin’s club?” Grenville asked.
“No,” Julian responded.
He wasn’t reclusive... exactly. That was a side effect, not the aim. He simply wished to be in complete control of everything and everyone in his orbit.
Which, yes, did imply he would rather go through the expense and effort of hosting and managing his own parties than he was likely to trust someone else’s plans or judgment.
“There’s no reason to visit the Wit & Whistle,” he informed Grenville. “Miss Thorne wouldn’t be present at a gentlemen’s club.”
