“But they’re not girls who are likely to be hurt by it. He doesn’t seduce the servants, or anyone who isn’t perfectly well aware of what he’s doing. No one who isn’t willing to play along.”
Perhaps not.
“I hope he’s all right,” I said.
Christopher nodded. “I do, too.”
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
We decidedto take afternoon tea at the Ritz, since we were in the neighborhood anyway. And if you wonder how the Royal Albert Hall and Knightsbridge come to be in the neighborhood of the Ritz Hotel, it was because we also decided to go by Sutherland House in Mayfair on our way home, just to ascertain that Crispin wasn’t there.
There was absolutely no reason to think he’d be there, of course. He ought to be somewhere in Hampshire by now, if not actually into Wiltshire itself. At the very least, he should be moving through Surrey at quite a slow pace. But because there was no way to know for certain where he was, and because Sutherland House had a telephone we could use to ring up the Hall and inquire of Tidwell the butler whether Crispin had made it home, we decided we might as well take advantage of it. The weather was pleasant, if a touch on the cool side—all the better for walking around London—and afternoon tea at the Ritz is always a pleasant experience.
Thus fortified, we set out towards Sutherland House, and arrived some twenty minutes later, to ring the bell.
“Rogers,” Christopher said when the door opened, and slipped past the butler into the marble foyer of the elegant old townhouse. “We’re looking for my cousin.”
There was a beat as Rogers shut the door behind us and turned to eye him. “I’m sorry, Master Christopher. I’m afraid his lordship isn’t here.”
He glanced at me, and for a second something flickered across his face before it turned impassive again. He inclined his head in something halfway between a nod and bow. “Miss Darling.”
“Rogers,” I said. “It’s been a while.”
Christopher and I had come up to Sutherland House occasionally when we were younger and had been living with Christopher’s parents at Beckwith Place. But the Town house had been in use more by Duke Henry himself while he’d been alive, and by Uncle Harold and Aunt Charlotte, and over the past couple of years by Crispin. Christopher and I didn’t come here a lot. It was perhaps not surprising that Rogers should be taken aback to see us now.
“He hasn’t been by?”
Rogers shook his head. “No, Master Christopher. His Grace was here this morning looking for him.”
“He found him,” I said, and when Rogers turned a politely inquiring eyebrow my way, I added, “He spent the night with us. St George did, I mean. His Grace—Uncle Harold—showed up at the flat this morning looking for him.”
Rogers nodded. “It might have been suggested that he should try there.”
Oh, might it, really?
“Who suggested it?” I wanted to know, since the passive tense made it appear as if Rogers was trying to avoid responsibility for siccing Uncle Harold on us.
But before I could get an answer, Christopher entered back into the conversation. “Never mind that right now. We last saw him—saw them both—around midday. Did either of them come back here?”
“No, Master Christopher,” Rogers said. “No one has been here since His Grace left with Wilkins this morning.”
“Would you mind if we made use of the telephone?”
Rogers twitched a brow. “Of course not, Master Christopher. Who will you be ringing up?”
“Sutherland Hall,” Christopher said. “I want to know if Crispin made it home.”
“Of course.” Rogers gave another of those not-quite-bows. “Allow me.”
“If you please, Rogers.” It was abundantly clear that Rogers didn’t want either of us to do it, after all.
“This way.” Rogers led the way out of the foyer and down the hall, into the nearest parlor. There was a telephone on a table by the wall. “Just a moment, Master Christopher.”
He headed that way, picked up the ear piece, and issued an order into the mouth piece. Seconds passed. Then?—
“Good afternoon, Sutherland Hall. This is Rogers at Sutherland House in Town. I have Mr. Christopher Astley here for Lord St George. Is he available?”
A faint buzzing or quacking noise issued from the ear piece. Rogers grimaced. “I see. And His Grace?”
