“Now, now, Darling.” He grinned. “It can’t have been that much of a chore. Last time, you told me the pink was becoming. Let me return the compliment.”
He managed a credible bow without ever taking his head off the back of the chair.
“Oh, for…” I shook my head. “What are you even doing here, St George? Why aren’t you out there with your friends and admirers, celebrating your birthday?”
“I wanted you and Kit there,” Crispin said with a pout, as if that made any sense at all. He’d been quite happy drinking and carousing with the Society of Bright Young Persons for the past several years, since he graduated from university and since they started their treasure hunts in the summer of 1924. In all that time, I hadn’t gotten the impression that he’d given Christopher and me a thought. It made no sense that he would abandon them before ten o’clock on a Saturday night—and on his birthday, no less—to show up here.
“Well, I’m sorry to have to tell you,” I said, “that Christopher isn’t home. He put on Kitty and went out to his monthly engagement.”
Crispin brightened. “Did he get dressed up and go to a ball? Is that where he went?”
That was exactly where he’d gone, in an exquisite black gown that had been inspired by the woman with the bright pink lipstick. Lady Laetitia Marsden had worn nothing but black the entire time we’d been at the Dower House in Dorset last month, and when one considered her sleek, black bob—very like the wig Christopher wears when he’s dressed up as Kitty—I supposed it had made sense that he would have emulated her style for the next drag ball he went to.
He had looked stunning when he left the flat an hour or so ago—perhaps even more so than Lady Laetitia herself, although I’m not sure she would have been pleased to hear me say so. Nor was I sure Crispin would be pleased, so I kept it to myself.
“That’s right,” I told him instead. “After the raid in April—did you know that there was a raid on the ball on the night you showed up here to tell Christopher that his grandfather wanted to see him? After that, they moved from the last Friday of the month to the first Saturday of the next to throw the police off. They found another venue, too, of course, but I never knew where they were meeting in the first place, and I don’t know now.”
“I do,” Crispin said blithely.
I stared at him, offended. “You know? How is it that you do and I don’t? Did Christopher tell you? Why would he tell you and not me?”
Had he wanted Crispin to accompany him? He had told me, repeatedly, that it wasn’t a proper place for someone like me. And admittedly, Crispin runs with a much faster crowd than I do. But still, I’m Christopher’s best friend. Crispin is his cousin whom we sometimes tolerate. Surely he wouldn’t have done that to me.
Would he?
“Relax, Darling,” Crispin smirked. “It wasn’t Kit. I imagine you simply don’t spend enough time with the right people.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” I said. “I live with Christopher. He attends the balls. Nobody knows better than Christopher where they are. If Christopher didn’t tell you, who did?”
“As I said, Darling?—”
“Yes, yes. But surely your set doesn’t attend the same events that Christopher’s set does?”
“You’d be surprised,” Crispin said.
I arched my brows. “Oh, would I? Don’t tell me that you have a closet full of dresses and wigs at Sutherland House, St George, that you put on so you can go out to meet men?”
“No, Darling.” He smirked. “I like women.”
I rolled my eyes. As if there was a female person anywhere in London who didn’t already know that.
“But some of my acquaintances don’t—Tennant, you know, and Beaton—and the rest will do anything for a lark.”
“So you and your friends dress in drag and crash the balls?”
“Idon’t,” Crispin said. “Some of the others have been known to. On a dare or for a laugh; you know how it is.”
I didn’t, actually, but I had heard the rumors. “So why haven’t you been known to? Too afraid to risk your reputation as a womanizer to put on a frock? Too much time stuck in the wilds of Wiltshire?”
Where his father was fighting a losing battle of trying to keep Crispin out of trouble and the tabloids?
“That,” he said, “plus I stay away because of Kit.”
I blinked, and he added, “We look so much alike that I don’t want to get him into trouble by showing up in places where there might be confusion about who’s who.”
That was surprisingly generous of him, and he must have guessed that I was taken aback, because he smiled maliciously. “Didn’t think I had it in me, did you, Darling?”
“I’ll admit I’m pleasantly surprised,” I told him. “I thought you were completely without finer feelings, so I’m pleased to hear that you’re not. At any rate, I’m sorry Christopher isn’t here to go drinking with you. I’m sure he would have done it if he could.”
