Apthorp, she noticed, looked away at the mention of his mother and appeared more eager to leave.
“Perhaps, Lord Apthorp, your mother will accompany you when you bring Lady Constance to visit our congregation,” Lady Spence said. Her tone implied this was less a suggestion than an order.
Apthorp smiled. “You are too kind. My mother would no doubt love to join us, but unfortunately her ill health does not allow her to travel to London. The bad air is a strain.”
Constance looked at him in surprise. She had heard nothing about Lady Apthorp being in poor health.
Lady Spence frowned. “She has not mentioned such invalidism in her letters. Surely the countess would be an asset in bringing out your future bride to her advantage. Lady Constance would benefit from her skillful chaperonage. Do invite her.” She looked meaningfully at Constance.
Constance smiled reassuringly. “We shall do everything we can to convince Lady Apthorp to brave the pestilential air. And if we are lucky enough to be honored with a visit, we will indeed bring her to your chapel.”
Apthorp shot her a grimace, warning flashing in his eyes.
But she failed to see any harm in making such a promise.
In fact, now that Lady Spence had suggested it, she thought it was an excellent idea.
Apthorp helped Constance into a carriage and made off eastward toward the Strand, fighting back a smile.
They had been set up to be humiliated and they had triumphed.
Constance’s scheme was working better than he had ever imagined. It was working so well he was finding it increasingly difficult to believe their natural partnership and growing ease with each other was not real.
Of course it isn’t real. It’s a performance.
But which parts?
“Lord Apthorp,” a voice called from behind him. He turned to see Henry Evesham striding after him down the street.
“I’d hoped for a word with you in private,” Evesham said, catching up. “I wonder if you might spare a moment.”
“Of course,” Apthorp said. “I’m walking east. Care to join me?”
Evesham smiled. “Thank you. I’ll be frank and warn you the matter is delicate.”
Apthorp labored not to show his unease. “Oh?”
“I’d like to ask for your assistance in an investigation I’m pursuing.”
“I would be happy to oblige if I can be of service,” he lied affably, grateful for years of covering his true feelings behind stiff courtesies. “How might I be helpful?”
Evesham gave him a tight smile. “I’m sure you are aware that my calling is to rid the city of vice.”
“A noble calling.”
“I assume, as a peer of the realm, you share this desire?”
“Of course,” Apthorp said. “One sees the most appalling things in London. Maidens abducted and forced into prostitution. Predations upon children. Procurers who trade in despondence and disease. I hope you are directing your efforts toward the most vulnerable among us.” It would be a nobler use of his efforts than shaming whores and mollies in his pages.
Evesham nodded. “Of late I have been investigating a growing moral pestilence: houses of iniquity.”
“Oh?” London was littered with such places, from lavish pleasure houses peopled by cultured courtesans to squalid Seven Dials brothels filthy with rats and syphilis. He was not opposed to efforts to protect harlots and culls alike. Fornication would always be bought and sold. But if Elena Brearley’s club had taught him anything, it was that it could be done so with an eye to fairness, pleasure, and good health. “You are wise to advocate for reform and regulation.”
“One establishment in particular is the subject of my special interest,” Evesham went on. “I’ve heard of a place in Mary-le-Bone where all manner of vile eccentricities take place. Violence. Depravity. Sodomy.” He lowered his voice. “All practiced in secrecy by aristocrats who possess wealth enough to keep their vices hidden.”
Apthorp kept his expression blank, even as his blood went cold. Was this man truly going to exhibit the cheek to address Elena’s club with him directly? On the bloody streets of Mayfair?
He wanted to push him against the wall and say depravity was in the eye of the beholder.
“Fascinating,” he drawled instead. “Yet I fail to see how such a place could overawe the plight of kidnapped children and helpless girls. Perhaps you should redirect your efforts there.”
Evesham sighed, as though he was as pained as Apthorp. “I don’t disagree with you that such crimes are graver sins in the eyes of God, my lord, but I will be candid. A humble scribe must answer to his readers’ interests. Noblemen with sinful predilections are good for circulation, and I am beholden to my publishers.”
“Your publishers must have prurient tastes,” Apthorp remarked.
“If that is true, my lord, they are not so unlike their betters.” Evesham shot him a meaningful sideward glance. “From the tales I’ve heard, it seems many of your fellow peers believe themselves above the laws of decency.”
“As do many members of the clergy, alas,” he said evenly.
“Most upsetting, such hypocrisy,” Evesham agreed. “Perhaps, armed with your knowledge, I might do my part to unravel such abuses.”
“What is it you’re suggesting I can help you with, Mr. Evesham?” If the man was going to accuse him of something, he’d had enough of dancing around the charge.
“I’m sure you’re aware I printed a poem suggesting a person not unlike yourself in description might have some familiarity with the notorious establishment I am investigating.”
Trust a man of letters to be as tortured as possible in making a very simple point.
“Any such resemblance is coincidental, I assure you. But your poem was amusing. Lady Constance and I had a long and merry laugh about it.”
“I’m sure. But I understand that you have encountered no small measure of difficulty as a result of the ensuing talk, spurious though I’m sure you’d say it is.”
Evesham smiled in a manner that, though not unkind, communicated clearly his belief that it was not spurious at all. A manner that suggested they both understood the ways of the world and were above the pretense that they didn’t. Apthorp would almost like him for this attempt at candor, were Evesham not suggesting that he help betray the secrets of consenting people who had asked the world for nothing more than the tolerance to do what they liked harmlessly in private.
Apthorp slowed his pace, narrowing his eyes to signal they were not allies in this matter.
“The political climate is mercurial. One finds oneself the subject of whispers when it is convenient for one’s rivals to have them believed. They rarely coincide with the truth.”
Evesham nodded in a way that made clear he understood he’d been dismissed. He paused, as if reconsidering. “I see. A nasty business, politics. Nevertheless, I wonder if we share a mutual interest in locating the source of such whispers. I’m a great admirer of Lady Constance and wish her every happiness. I have no wish to see her embarrassed. If you were to assist in my investigation, I would, in return for such a favor, keep your involvement in strict confidence. Whatever it may prove to be.”
Apthorp stared at him. The man seemed to be offering this in good faith, as though the implication of what he was saying was not enough for a less restrained man to bash him in the face with his walking stick.