end point of our game, our ultimate aim. We knew that to achieve that we needed to maintain absolute secrecy about the source of our wealth. So from our Oxford days we were very careful to limit any chance of exposure-the fewer people who even knew of our threesome, the better.”
“So that was why you, Randall, and Swithin hid your friendship?” Letitia asked.
Trowbridge nodded. “We agreed it was the best way to conceal even the possibility of the existence of the company. If by any chance it became known that one of us owned a gambling hell, there was no reason for anyone to suspect the other two. That’s why I was so surprised by Randall mentioning me in his will-he’d always been the most insistent about us not meeting socially, or even greeting each other as anything more than passing acquaintances-but of course he hadn’t expected to die when he did.”
“Randall’s secret room must have been a godsend,” Christian remarked.
“Oh, it was! So like Randall, to buy a house with a secret room. No one other than the three of us knew of it, at least as far as I know.”
“Did you have keys to the outer doors?” Christian asked.
Trowbridge laughed. “Dear me, no! Randall was positively paranoid about security-I’m quite sure he never gave those keys to anyone. No-when he wanted to see us, he’d send a note via a street urchin. He’d set a time, and the doors would be open so we could simply walk in. He was usually waiting in the office, although if the discussion wasn’t about something in the books, we’d often go into his study. More comfortable there.” His face clouded. “I heard he was killed there-in his study.”
Christian nodded. He waited a beat, then asked, “Have there been any recent developments with the company?”
“Yes, indeed. We’d decided to sell.” Trowbridge looked at Letitia. “Of course, that’s now on hold, as it were, until you decide what you wish to do. The way the company is set up, we all have to sell, or none of us can-at least not for anything like full value.”
Letitia opened her mouth; Christian closed his hand hard about her wrist. Ignoring her resulting stare, he asked, “What prompted your decision to sell?”
Trowbridge opened his eyes wide. “It wasn’t anything in particular, but Randall had reached the stage of deciding that continuing to court exposure was no longer necessary, or indeed wise. He had a canny instinct for when to draw back, and indeed, when he approached me I was only too ready to agree. We’re all very well established financially, all with significant income from investments and the like-all of us entirely accepted by the ton, as we have been for years-there was simply no reason we needed to continue with the company. I suppose, as Swithin and Randall would say, it had become more an unnecessary liability than a vital asset.”
“So you all agreed to sell.” Christian watched Trowbridge carefully. “When was this?”
“Quite recently. A few weeks before Randall’s death. He suggested it, I agreed, Swithin presumably did, too, and so Randall started the process, whatever that was. I always left that sort of thing to him, and so did Swithin. Business was Randall’s forte.”
“Did anything come of his…process?”
“Yes. He told me he had a buyer, and then, a few days before he was killed, he asked me for a letter stating that I agreed to sell my share at the same time he sold his.” Trowbridge met Christian’s eyes. “He told me the prospective buyer had requested the assurance, which I was happy to give, of course.”
“Did Randall tell you the name of this prospective buyer?”
“No.” Trowbridge shrugged. “But that wasn’t unusual. He might have told Swithin-because he might have thought to ask. For me it made no difference who bought the company as long as they paid a fair price-and I knew I could trust Randall to secure that.” He looked at Letitia. “Have you any idea whether you’ll want to sell or not?”
It was all Letitia could do not to leap on the suggestion, but mindful of Christian’s eye on her, aware of his fingers braceleting her wrist, she arched her brows regally and prevaricated. “Having only recently learned what my late husband’s business entailed, I’ll need to take stock and consult with others before making any decision.”
Trowbridge smiled easily. “Of course. You must take whatever time you need. Swithin doesn’t seem fussed either way, and neither am I. We’ll accept whatever decision you make-that was, in some ways, part of our motto, you know-all for one and one for all.”
Letitia found herself smiling back. Trowbridge was engaging, yet utterly unthreatening; she could see why so many ladies vied for his time.
“My dear, you’ve failed to offer your guests some refreshments. It
The drawl from the door drew all eyes. A gentleman-he was undoubtedly that despite his rather unusual attire-well-cut breeches and a soft shirt topped by a long, dun-colored coat that hung straight from his shoulders to brush his highly polished boots-stood in the doorway idly observing them through heavy-lidded dark eyes.
Letitia glanced at Trowbridge. His smile had grown warmer.
He made an elegant gesture toward the newcomer. “Allow me to present Lord Rupert Honeywell. Lady Letitia Randall and Lord Dearne.”
Honeywell’s eyes passed over Letitia and Christian, lingered for an instant on Christian, then he bowed elegantly. “Charmed, my lady.” Straightening, he nodded to Christian. “Dearne.”
“Be a dear, Rupert, and ring for Cuthbert. Tell him to bring tea.” Trowbridge looked back at Letitia. “You will stay and take a cup, won’t you?”
Letitia smiled back. “I’d be delighted. Thank you.”
Cuthbert was summoned; tea, in an exquisite service, was duly delivered. At Trowbridge’s invitation, Letitia poured. When she complimented him on the china, Trowbridge insisted on showing her some of his treasures.
A half hour passed pleasantly. Although initially standoffish, when neither she nor Christian made any comment on what was plainly a menage, Honeywell thawed. At Trowbridge’s suggestion, he took Letitia to view his canvases, set out in a little room off the front hall. As they were of excellent quality, she found no difficulty enthusiastically complimenting him.
At which he thawed even more.
Christian stood in the doorway to the small room. The instant Letitia turned from Honeywell’s last painting, he caught her eye. “We need to leave, I’m afraid.”
She smiled and made her farewells. He did the same, but with greater reserve.
As he took his leave of Trowbridge, he handed him a card-one inscribed with the Bastion Club’s address. “If you think or hear of anything that might bear on Randall’s murder, or on the sale of the company, please send word. I’m acting for Lady Randall in this matter.”
Trowbridge took the card, cast a questioning glance at Letitia. When she nodded, he smiled and put the card in his pocket. “If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”
Outside, Honeywell handed Letitia up. Christian climbed up and took the reins. With a flourish of his whip, he set his horses trotting. Letitia waved, then sat back with a sigh.
After a moment she said, “That was a great deal more entertaining than I’d expected.”
He glanced down at her face. “There’s one thing you shouldn’t forget.”
She met his eyes, arched her brows. “What’s that?”
He had to look forward to manage his horses. “Trowbridge is an excellent candidate for Randall’s murderer.”
He took her back to Allardyce House for a late luncheon. He was getting very tired of Randall’s house, and of Barton hovering outside.
When he mentioned the man, Letitia snorted. “He has a one-track mind.”
“Which, now that I think of it,” Christian said, ushering her down his front hall, “does have its benefits-he’s stuck to the South Audley Street house like a leech and hasn’t been following us.”
“True. I suppose that’s something in him one can give thanks for.”
Percival sat her at the dining table in the chair beside Christian’s. As he took his seat, Christian glanced at her and decided that when-when, not if-she sat at this table on a permanent basis, whenever they were alone she would sit beside him, not at the far end of the long table as custom decreed.
Custom was often overrated.
As the dishes appeared, whisked in and out by the ever-efficient Percival and his minions, they discussed all they’d gleaned from their visit to Chelsea. As Hermione wasn’t present, they could speak freely. Letitia commented
