She nodded forlornly.
Pyke decided to push a little further. ‘But you are perhaps beholden to him in other ways?’
‘As are all children of wealthy parents.’ Emily seemed amused by his boldness. ‘It would not surprise me, given your prowess as an investigator, if you already knew something about my own situation.’
‘I’ve heard rumours, that’s all.’
‘About?’
To the effect that your financial well-being is not wholly tied to your father’s generosity. Or lack of.’
Emily had a way of staring at him that he found deeply unnerving. ‘As a result of my mother’s foresight, I have a very modest independent income.’
Pyke thought about the information he had received from Godfrey and Townsend. ‘In which case, taking my side against your father reveals much about your courage.’
‘It reveals much, but not about my courageousness.’ Her tone was playful.
‘Oh?’
‘As you suggested to me on our visit to Newgate, altruism isn’t always divorced from self-interest.’
‘And coming to my rescue was an act of altruism?’ Emily licked her lips. ‘I liked the fact that you weren’t overawed by him. You mocked him without him realising it. Some people find him quite intimidating.’
Pyke bowed his head. ‘Then I accept the compliment.’ For a moment, neither of them spoke. ‘But there is still something you want to ask me, isn’t there?’ she added.
‘You would make a good investigator.’ His laugh ebbed away as he contemplated the subject of his question. ‘There’s a man who might be employed, in some capacity, by your father. I was led to believe that he worked as a security adviser for one of your uncle’s banks. He was the man who led me to the corpses in St Giles. Subsequently I discovered he’s Anglo-Irish and owns a small plot of land in County Armagh. Jimmy Swift. He’s got sandy-coloured hair and a distinctive mole on his chin. Do you know him?’
Emily furrowed her brow. ‘No, I don’t think I’ve come across such a person.’ She shrugged, apologetically. ‘You see, my father has business with so many people . . .’
‘I understand.’
‘Then perhaps I could ask you a question.’
‘I can’t very well say no, can I?’
‘No, you can’t,’ she told him firmly. ‘You come here and tell me these terrible things about my father, what he might have done, what he might be mixed up in, and I don’t challenge or correct you, or stand up for his honour. Then you question me about this man who may or may not work for my father, as though I’m some kind of suspect, or that I’m deliberately concealing something from you.’
‘I certainly didn’t mean to imply—’
‘Ssshhh, for a moment.’ She pressed her finger to her lips. ‘I’d say . . .’ She paused. ‘I’d say you’re not an easy man to get to know.’
Pyke pondered her statement. ‘I’m not sure anyone can truly know anyone else, if that’s what you mean.’
This drew a forced laugh. ‘Spoken like a man.’ But Emily was not finished with him. ‘In your world, I would imagine people have to prove themselves to you, in order to earn your trust.’
‘If I told you I’ve never wholly trusted anyone, would you think me a kind of machine?’
‘Perhaps not a machine but . . .’ Concern was etched on her face. ‘It must be a lonely existence.’
‘It is an existence. Or at least I am still . . . here.’
‘I think you’re missing the point,’ she chided him, gently.
‘It is I who am asking for a little of your trust.’ She seemed puzzled. ‘I would hope I’ve already proved myself to some extent.’
Suddenly Pyke felt foolish and self-interested. ‘You must think me unpardonably rude,’ he told her, not sure what else to say.
‘I wouldn’t imagine a man of your abilities cares to be in someone else’s debt.’
Pyke shrugged. ‘It would depend upon whose debt I was in.’
‘In which case, I should confess that my motivations for visiting your cell were not entirely selfless.’ Emily was smiling now.
‘Oh?’
‘Of course, I had to be assured you were innocent of those terrible things the police and the court claimed you had done.’
He bowed his head, to acknowledge her confidence, but said nothing.
Emily laughed nervously. ‘It’s a terrible habit. I’m sorry. I must stop prying.’
Pyke wondered whether his discomfort at having to discuss personal matters was as obvious as Emily made it seem.
An awkward silence followed. ‘Did you know that most people believe an unmarried woman in her early thirties has failed to reach her potential?’ Emily seemed to be saying it as a challenge.
‘What potential might that be?’
‘To sire my future husband’s children, I suppose.’ It seemed to amuse her.
‘And to provide your father with an heir.’
‘You, too, are very perceptive.’ The humour left her expression. ‘My father has lined up a suitor and told me I’m to marry him before the year’s out. He said it’s high time, as you put it, that I provided him with an heir.’
‘Have you met this man?’ Pyke asked quickly.
‘I am led to believe he has certain political ambitions but I have refused even to learn his name.’ She seemed genuinely aggrieved. ‘I think it’s absurd that a woman in my position should even consider getting married, given the hopelessly inequitable laws of this country. You know that a married woman cannot own property, or retain control of her own earnings? She has the legal status of a minor and can’t divorce her husband, even if he beats her and even though he can divorce her for no good reason.’ She grew more serious. ‘Most of the men I meet are either rich and stupid or poor and desperate and see me as their ticket to a life of wealth and glamour.’
Pyke pulled her into his stare. ‘I am certainly not rich and I would hope I’m not stupid.’
‘I would not characterise you as poor or desperate, either.’
‘Where does that leave me, then?’
‘I don’t know.’ She laughed gently. ‘Somewhere in the middle.’
‘Is that a good place to be?’
‘I would say so.’
Pyke edged closer to her. ‘Here might be an even better place to be.’ He wanted to touch her cheekbones, run his finger down to her lips . . .
‘Perhaps, but . . .’ Emily stood up and turned to face him. ‘But it is late and I am aware that in my keenness to solicit your company, I must have kept you from other engagements.’
‘None as pressing as this one, I can assure you.’ Pyke noticed she was blushing ever so slightly. ‘But I am certain I have detained you far too long.’
‘It is surely I who have detained you . . .’
‘Then I have thoroughly enjoyed being detained.’ He stood up and prepared to leave. ‘Perhaps you might detain me again on some future occasion?’
This time her gaze was cool. ‘You make me sound like a Newgate gaoler.’
He laughed heartily. ‘You have seen such figures in person, as I have, and should be in little doubt that their poise, sophistication and elegance are something mere mortals such as ourselves cannot hope to aspire to.’
Emily flashed him a wicked stare. ‘What? You don’t think I’d like to lock you up and throw away the key?’
‘In the condemned block at Newgate?’
Her eyes glistened in the candlelight. ‘Actually, I was thinking of more comfortable surroundings.’
NINETEEN
‘What a perfectly delightful place this is,’ Godfrey said, pushing open the door to Pyke’s
