bring with them, civilly enough.
The third person in the room was the one they had come to see, the man who might be able to tell them more about Nolan Baltimore. He was slender and unusual in appearance. His thick hair waved back off a high brow and was touched with gray at the temples, suggesting his age was more than his ease of carriage and elegance of dress portrayed. His features were very aquiline, his mouth full of humor. Marielle introduced him as Mr. Boyd, and laid rather more emphasis on Margaret than Hester was prepared for.
She saw Margaret stiffen and the color rise to her cheeks, although she masked her discomfort as well as possible.
The usual formalities of refreshment were offered and accepted. Marielle invited them to remain for dinner also, and Margaret declined without even referring to Hester, stating a previous engagement which did not exist.
“It is very good of you to come in order to furnish us with assistance and information, Mr. Boyd,” she said a little stiffly. “I hope it has not spoiled your evening.”
“Not at all, Miss Ballinger,” he replied, smiling very slightly, the humor going all the way to his eyes, as if he saw some joke that might be shared, but not spoken of. “Please tell me what it is you wish to know, and if I can answer you, then I will do so.”
“I understand the restrictions,” she said hastily. “I am sure you are aware that Mr. Baltimore died tragically just over two weeks ago… in Leather Lane?”
“I am.” If he felt any distaste he was too well schooled to show it.
Hester’s regard for him increased. She glanced at Marielle and saw her intense interest. She was watching Boyd, and then Margaret, and then Boyd again, as if the outcome was of the greatest importance to her. Hester was filled with a fierce understanding of why Margaret longed to escape from her home and the pressure to marry suitably… as Marielle had done, and possibly whatever other sisters she had. She recalled some mention of a younger one, who was no doubt impatient for her turn.
Was Boyd aware of this also? Did he know he was being gently but very firmly engineered into the desired place? He looked like a man supremely able to make his own decisions. No ambitious mother, or sister, would maneuver him, of that Hester was certain. But it was Margaret’s feelings that concerned her.
“I work in a charity in that area,” Margaret went on with a candor that made Marielle wince and her husband look startled, and then unhappy.
“Really, Margaret…” he said with disapproval. “Gaining a little money for those who are unfortunate is one thing, but you should not become involved in any personal way, my dear…”
Margaret ignored him, keeping her attention on Boyd. “Mrs. Monk was a nurse in the Crimea,” she went on relentlessly. “She offers medical assistance to women who cannot afford to pay a doctor. I am privileged to give what additional help I can, as well as to raise money for the rent of the rooms and for medicines.”
“Admirable,” Boyd said, seemingly with sincerity. “I don’t see what I can contribute, beyond an offering of money, which I am happy to do. What has Nolan Baltimore’s business to do with this? He did well, but not extraordinarily so. And anyway, as you observed, he is dead now.”
Hester searched his face but saw no personal grief in it, and no trace of surprise or alarm. Neither did she see the outrage she had at least half expected.
“He was murdered,” Margaret added. “As you may imagine, it has caused some upheaval in the area, an intense police presence-”
“Of course it has!” Marielle said sharply, moving forward a step as if to come between Margaret and Hester, who represented this regrettable involvement of her sister’s. “It is completely shocking that a respectable man should be attacked in the street and done to death by the immoral and predatory creatures who inhabit such places.” She turned her shoulder toward Hester. “I don’t know why you wish even to discuss such subjects, Margaret. You never used to be so bold in your conversation.” She looked at Boyd. “I am afraid Margaret’s soft heart at times leads her into some strange, not to say misguided, avenues…”
“Marielle…” Courtney began.
“I do not need you to apologize for me!” Margaret snapped. Then she looked candidly at Boyd before her sister could respond. “Mr. Boyd, Mrs. Monk and I have reason to believe that Mr. Baltimore may have been murdered by a business rival rather than a prostitute.” She ignored Marielle’s sharp intake of breath at the word. “And we would both be most obliged if you could tell us more of his business interests and his character as you may have heard it. Is it possible he went to meet someone he was dealing with in such a place as Leather Lane, or its environs, rather than in his customary offices?”
Hester felt obliged to interject. “We know what his family says of his business interests and conduct. I am acquainted with his daughter. But their view cannot help but be biased. What was his reputation in the City?”
“You speak very plainly, Mrs. Monk.” Boyd turned his gaze to her, and she knew instantly that he remarked it in respect, not disapproval, although the faint ghost of humor was still there in his eyes. She found herself liking him. Had she been in Margaret’s place, and had she not already met Oliver Rathbone, she might have been acutely uncomfortable at being so foisted upon this man, rather than having him choose her for himself. She believed closer acquaintance with him might prove a great pleasure.
“I do,” she agreed. “The matter does not allow for misunderstandings. I apologize if it offends you.” She knew it did not. “I am afraid nursing has blunted the edges of my good manners.” Suddenly she smiled at him fully. “That is a euphemism. I never had any.”
“Then I shall follow your example, Mrs. Monk,” he replied with a very slight bending of his head, almost like a bow, his eyes dancing. “Nolan Baltimore was a man with great ambitions who took extraordinary chances in order to achieve them. He had courage and imagination, both of which were admired.” He was watching her as he spoke, weighing what she made of his remarks.
“And…” she prompted him.
He acknowledged her understanding. “And some of his risks paid fairly well; others did not. He managed to survive rather better than some of his friends. He was not noted for his loyalty.”
“In general?” Hester asked. “Or in particular?”
“I had no dealings with him myself.”
She knew his tact was for Courtney, not for her. He expected her to understand his omissions as much as his words.
“From choice?” she said quickly.
“Yes.” He smiled at her.
“Could any of his… chances… have taken him to Leather Lane?” she asked.
“Dubious finance?” His eyes widened. “It is not impossible. If one needs money and the usual services are not available, one goes elsewhere. A short-term loan that was to be paid off when an investment produced a high profit could be found in such a place. There is plenty of money in vice of one sort or another. People who come by it that way are often keen to invest it in a legitimate business.”
“Really… Boyd!” Courtney growled. “I don’t think this is the sort of thing to discuss in front of ladies!”
“If Mrs. Monk has been an army nurse, and now works in the Coldbath area, James, I doubt I can tell her anything that she does not already know better than I,” Boyd pointed out with more humor than annoyance.
“I was thinking of my sister-in-law!” Courtney said a trifle waspishly, his eye flickering to Marielle and back again, as if in actuality responding to her rather than his own thoughts. “And my wife,” he added, perhaps unaware of the implied insult to Hester.
Boyd looked at him coldly for a moment, and noticed him color, then he turned to Margaret. “I apologize if I have distressed you, Miss Ballinger,” he said with a slight smile, but a question in his eye.
“I shall require an apology, Mr. Boyd, if you think me less able to face the truth than Mrs. Monk!” Margaret replied with heat. “You have answered us very frankly, and for that I am grateful. Please do not spoil your respect for our sincerity by equivocating now.”
Boyd ignored both Courtney and Marielle as if they had not been present.
“Then I must tell you, Miss Ballinger,” he replied, “that I think Nolan Baltimore was as likely to have gone to Leather Lane for the reasons generally supposed as for any business purpose, honorable or otherwise. The quality of his living, the cost of his clothes, his carriages, his food and wine, did not suggest a company with any need to seek finance.” He waved Courtney’s proposed interruption away impatiently, and without taking his eyes from Margaret’s, he continued. “Since I have seen him in the City he has never restricted himself. Rumor has it that his company is on the verge of a great achievement. Perhaps he has borrowed against his expectations, or else he had
