“In the brothels, you mean.”
Kevin fixed his cuffs and settled his coat on his shoulders. “I was serious when I said that was where they can be found.”
“The one I located was not in a brothel. Ever. Uncle Frederick paid well for those services. He would not feel the need to leave fat legacies for any of those women.”
“Then I am wasting my time. It is mine to squander, and I’ve quite a bit of it at my disposal right now.”
“Have you had any success?” If Kevin wanted to search in brothels, Chase wasn’t going to stop him. For one thing, his cousin knew those establishments and their owners far better than Chase did.
“I have discovered the annoying truth that some of them exercise extreme discretion where he is concerned.”
Chase led the way out. They walked around the edge of the main hall, past other fencing matches taking place. “Well, he was a duke. I expect he demanded discretion.”
“I can’t imagine why. Anyway, last night I tried a different path. I presented myself to the madam and informed her I was his nephew. I then said I would like to be introduced to his most recent favorite, so I might enjoy her favors as he did.”
Chase laughed. “A memorial fuck? It sounds almost sentimental.”
“I thought so. My thinking was that this favorite might know about prior favorites, and even their real names. They rarely use real names in those houses.”
“I am not green, Kevin. I do not visit brothels with your or Uncle’s regularity, but I know the basics.”
“Of course. So that was my thinking—to get into a room with his latest favorite, and get her talking.”
“Clever.”
“Are you being sarcastic?”
“No, no. How did your plan fare?”
Kevin led the way out to the street. “The madam informed me that it would be most inappropriate if one of Uncle’s male relatives partook of the same wine he had recently drunk. Have you ever heard of such a thing? She was most severe too. I felt like I was being scolded by a vicar. She all but accused me of incest.”
They stopped at their horses, and Kevin’s frown suddenly cleared. “Damnation. I’ll wager he told them to say that, to refuse any of us his women. Don’t laugh. You know he could be selfish about some things. He didn’t always share nicely.”
“I am not laughing at you, or your idea. I think maybe you are right.”
Kevin untied his horse. “He probably did not want to be compared with anyone so close to home, as it were.”
Chase laughed again.
Kevin swung up. “I am going to Whiteford House to look around. Do you want to join me? We can drink some of the excellent wine Nicholas inherited.”
“I have another engagement, I’m sorry to say. Are you going to look for the mechanical butler?”
“That and other things. Our conversation about it conjured up many other memories.” He turned his horse west.
Chase mounted his own horse, but headed east instead.
* * *
Mr. Oliver was not a happy man. Round of face and body, sparse of hair, he kept looking at his wife with an expression of strained forbearance. Minerva sat with her across from him at the dining room table at their house, untying the thin package she had brought.
“Miss Hepplestone, my wife should have never wasted your time.”
“Hepplewhite. I think that in a few minutes you will be most grateful she did.”
“Unlikely. Women have no head for business nor any ability to conduct it. That is why I do not tolerate their interference.”
“It was not interference as such,” Mrs. Oliver said.
“What do you call it then?” he snapped.
“Your wife noticed something was amiss,” Minerva said. “She asked me as a friend to confirm what she suspected. I do not seek to interfere any more than she did. If you would prefer to be robbed and have your affairs compromised, just say so and I will take my leave.”
Robbed raised an expression of alarm in him. Compromised brought forth a deep frown. He did not tell her to leave.
She described what she had learned in Brighton. She laid out the lace cuffs she had bought from Mr. Seymour’s shop. She explained how she was told that they came from a town in the Loire Valley, and that the owner of the shop was well aware that he sold something that in the past had been available exclusively at a competitor.
“Quite smug he was,” she said. “Furthermore, he had already sold out his stock and was getting more.” She lifted one of the cuffs. “I arranged to be there when he did, and I saw your agent enter his building. A half hour later, I procured these cuffs. I thought this one unusually fine.”
He snatched it out of her hand. He put on his spectacles and bent low over it. “Hell and damnation.” He looked up with a chagrined smile. “My apologies. Only this is new. Not one of mine.”
“He was very proud of that one. He anticipated much profit from it.”
He rested back in his chair, fingering the cuff. “The thief,” he muttered. “Who knows what else he’s done.”
Minerva stood. “I will indeed take my leave now.”
“I will see you to the door,” Mrs. Oliver said.
At the door Mrs. Oliver leaned in and whispered. “Well done. Write and let me know what I owe you for today.”
“You owe nothing. This is part of my report.” She looked toward the dining room. “He is not the sort to somehow turn this around to blame you, is he?”
“In two days my role will be forgotten, and the entire discovery will be his doing.”
Of course. What other choice did he have? Admit that his wife had been right to involve herself?
* * *
“Hand delivery,” Beth called. “A big one.”
Minerva went to the stairs to see a large rectangular bundle hovering above the middle step. The package was too large for Beth to carry. It all but tipped her over, and obscured her sight. Minerva rushed down and helped her bring it up to her chamber.
Beth poked at the unbleached muslin and ribbon tie. “A gift?”
“I expect it is my new ensembles. They finished them very quickly.”
Minerva plucked at the ribbon and it fell to the sides. She unfolded the muslin. Her woolen ensembles were not inside. The luscious dinner dress, the one she had not bought, glimmered up at her.
Beth’s sharp intake of breath filled the chamber. “You said day ensembles. Not this.”
“A mistake has been made. The woman must have not heard me correctly.”
She lifted the dress. The simple raw silk far surpassed the more elaborate fabrics available. A subtle sheen rippled over it when she moved it in the light.
“What is this here?” Beth reached for the package and moved another piece of the muslin wrapper.
Minerva had been so distracted by admiring the dinner dress that she had not noticed something else had come with it. Beth lifted the garment high. An undressing gown unfolded and its hem dropped down. She had admired this at Madame Tissot’s too, and only declined it after much thought.
Beth peered around the white lace, suspiciously.
“I will send it back with the dress,” Minerva said.
Beth laid the undressing gown on the bed. “It is very pretty. The one you have has been mended five times over.”