“You’re a lovely girl, aren’t you, Nelly?” Mabel crooned affectionately, and the bird whistled back in that uncanny way that was somehow both tuneless and musical. Mabel fished down the side of her chair and pulled out a somewhat crumpled reticule. Digging her hand in, she brought out a walnut and offered it to the bird. Nell Gwyn took hold of it in one large claw and started in on it with her powerful beak, scattering tiny pieces of shell all over Mabel’s lap.
Mabel, seeming unperturbed, returned her attention to Kit. “So, what about you, Kit? What’s your news?” She accepted a cup of tea from Gracie with a quick smile and immediately began to nibble the delicate financier balanced on the saucer.
Kit paused. For a moment, he considered telling her he’d had Henry Asquith asking to see him, but he wasn’t sure he was up to listening to what would inevitably follow. Even after all these years, she could still wax lyrical about Henry’s failings for an inordinately long time.
“I’ve not much news,” he said. “Jean-Jacques popped by yesterday.”
“How is he?” Mabel asked. “Still married to that ugly cook, I see.” She held up the last morsel of the financier before popping it into her mouth.
“Don’t be unpleasant. Evie isn’t the least bit ugly, and you know it,” Kit said repressively.
“Well, she ain’t pretty,” Mabel said. “Not like you.”
Kit half laughed, half sighed. “Firstly, I’m not pretty, and secondly, I have never at any point in my life had designs on Jean-Jacques, so you needn’t talk like Evie and I are rivals. In fact, if it came down to it, and I had to choose between them, I’d pick her. Her baking’s worth the loss of a friend.”
Mabel shrugged unapologetically. “Just as well with a face like hers.” She turned to Nell Gwyn, handing over a second walnut. “You agree with me, don’t you, angel?” she crooned.
“Woo-hoot! Kit’s a pretty boy!” Nell Gwyn shrieked in reply.
Kit flinched and Gracie sent him a sympathetic look.
“Fine,” Mabel said, “you don’t fancy Jean-Jacques. So who have you got your eye on?”
Kit shook his head, smiling ruefully. “I don’t have my eye on anyone. The last thing I need is a man.”
“Oh, don’t give me that,” Mabel scoffed. “You’re soft as butter, you. What you want, deep down, is someone on the other side of your fireplace.”
Kit chuckled. “You must be getting me mixed up with someone else. I’ve never wanted anyone like that—never even looked. I’m perfectly happy on my own. I’m like a tom cat.”
Mabel waved her hand dismissively. “I see you,” she said. “And you ain’t no tom cat, Kit Redford. Far from it.”
“I’m no lad either,” Kit said. “I’m one-and-forty.”
She snorted at that too, but didn’t dignify it with an answer.
“I’ll tell you who has been hanging around me, though,” Kit said, in a blatant effort to distract her attention.
She tilted her head to the side, interested now. It made her look disconcertingly like the parrot on her shoulder. “Who?”
“Jake Sharp,” Kit divulged. “I told you he opened that new gambling den near the club, didn’t I?”
“Lenny Sharp’s boy?” Mabel’s eyebrows rose. “Interested, is he?” Nell Gwyn began to nibble her ear, whistling softly. Absently, Mabel scratched the bird’s head.
“He’s interested in something,” Kit said. “But I think it’s the club rather than me.”
“Hmmm,” Mabel said, digging absently into the reticule again and bringing out another walnut. “You may be right.” When Kit laughed, she added, “Not that I don’t think you’re worth being interested in for yourself, lovey, but the Sharps… Well, the name says it all, don’t it?”
“You’re not wrong,” Kit agreed.
“Mightn’t be a bad idea to get rid of the club, though, you know,” Mabel added, looking away to offer the walnut to Nell Gwyn. The bird took it gently.
“What do you mean?” Kit said.
“Well, you don’t want to be running that place forever, do you? You used to always say that you’d build it up, sell it, and retire to the country.”
Kit quirked a half-smile. “I did used to say that.”
“Don't you want that anymore?” Mabel asked curiously.
Kit sighed. “Oh, I don’t know. I used to imagine myself setting up as a gentleman farmer or some such thing. But now I realise—well, I wouldn’t have the first idea what to do. I’m more of an alley cat than a farmyard one.”
“Pah! If you’ve got money you’ll be fine. You can always buy expertise. But whatever you decide to do, my advice would be to consider selling up sooner rather than later. I wish I’d stopped earlier—if I’d got out five years before I did, I’d’ve avoided that business with Jem Bailey and been able to sell out for twice or three times as much.”
Mabel had hired Jem Bailey as a doorman for the Lily. He’d been a hot-headed sort. After deciding he was in love with one of the girls, he'd assaulted a wealthy customer who’d been enjoying her favours on the premises. The incident had brought all sorts of trouble to Mabel’s door, and she’d ended up selling the Lily for a sum she’d always insisted was considerably less than its true worth.
“Look at it this way,” Mabel said. “The value of your club ain’t going up any more. You can’t go bigger without losing members—it’s the fact that it’s discreet that they like. You should get out now, while the going’s good.” She shrugged and the sudden movement made Nell Gwyn flap and squawk for a few moments before settling down again. “I reckon you’ll do nicely if you’re smart about it, but I’d be quick if I were you. Especially now there’s a Sharp hanging about. From what I remember of old Lenny Sharp, if you didn’t give him what he wanted when he asked, he wouldn’t wait too long before taking it without your blessing.”
“I’ll think about it,” Kit promised.
“You do that,” Mabel replied. “Now, tell me what all the gossip is, and don’t hold back.”
8
Henry
On Thursday evening Reid called in at Curzon Street as promised.
“Well, your grace,” he said, once they’d greeted one another and sat down, “I have some information for you, if not the whole answer quite yet.”
“That’s good,” Henry said. “You did not seem hopeful of that earlier.”
“There are some things that can be quite quickly established.”
“Such as?”
“Such as the fact that the owner of the house has not changed in twenty years.”
Henry stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“The house is yours,” Reid said calmly. “It never left your estate.”
Henry blinked. Of all the possibilities he’d entertained, this was not one of them. He’d been prepared to purchase the house back from its current owner, no matter what it might cost, just so he could give it to Christopher. To learn it was still his was unexpected.