Page 9 of Corpse in the Canal

“What else could he do?”

“Keep trying. You and he would appear to be cordial. Has he asked you since?”

A flicker of surprise showed in Phoebe’s eyes, and again she hesitated. “No,” she said at last. “But sometimes he gives the impression that he thinks…”

“Thinks what?” Constance prompted her.

“That my agreement is inevitable, however long it might amuse me to hold out. He is hardly faithful. In fact, he is an incorrigible flirt.”

“Is that what holds you back?” Constance asked curiously.

“No. I told you, I don’t like the man. Why does Mr. Harvey want him right now?”

“He is worried something might have happened to him. Do you think it’s possible he could have got into dangerous company?”

“I think he was already there.”

“Could you give me any names?”

“No, they are outside my circle of acquaintance. But I suspect they were to do with illegal gambling dens. But then, sooner or later, his flirting was also going to get him into trouble with some short-tempered husband of his own class.”

“Such as…?”

Pheobe shrugged. “It was a general observation.”

By then, both Solomon and Lady Dashworth had risen, and the call was clearly over.

“Thank you for your assistance,” Constance said.

Phoebe regarded her with some curiosity. “Do you really do this sort of thing often? Look for people?”

“Yes,” Constance said.

“You are an interesting lady. I hope we meet again.”

“Thank you,” Constance said, surprised. “So do I.”

*

“Well?” Solomon asked her when they were back in the carriage.

“Lady Phoebe refused his offer of marriage two years ago. She doesn’t even like him, though he seems to still have hopes of changing her mind. She thinks he keeps bad company, probably to do with his predilection for gaming—although that might be just because it’s the worst she knows of the world. What did you glean from Lady Dashworth?”

“That Harvey senior is somewhat blind to his son’s faults. Percy was never their first choice for Phoebe, but they were prepared to let Phoebe do the choosing herself. According to her mother, she is eminently sensible. Lady Dashworth has never heard of Adelaide Jenkins and has no idea where she can be found.”

“Why don’t I look around the hotels?” Constance suggested. “While you broach the gentlemen’s clubs?”

“Good plan. You can drop me at St. James’s, and keep the carriage.”

“Actually, I feel like walking,” Constance said quickly, “so just let me down at Dover Street, and I’ll start with Brown’s Hotel.”

*

Solomon was quietly pleased with the call on Lady Dashworth. Admittedly, this was more to do with Constance than with the case. Lady Dashworth might not have known Mrs. Grey’s origins, but now if she did hear, she would remember the beautiful, civil young woman helping Richard Harvey. There was nothing common or vulgar about Constance.

Having set Constance down outside Brown’s Hotel, he instructed the coachman to go first to Percy’s rooms off Piccadilly.

As he had half expected, Darren, the manservant who admitted him, was in his twenties, and was likely to empathize enough with his master to cover for him against parental disapproval.