Page 19 of The Rake
“Really, that does not sound like the whole of it,” Langley pressed, wondering if Margot wanted to keep everything to herself, despite all that she had already revealed. How far could he push her to tell him the truth, before she would close up again, and he would be left to wonder?
Into the tense silence, Margot said, “It is not relevant to the investigation.”
“I rather think if we are going to risk life and limb, you had better tell me the truth,” Langley said. “I’m not one to judge anyone for a sin, if that is what you’re afraid of.”
Margot’s countenance appeared briefly as they passed a lit-up house, and he noticed the crease of worry between her fine brows, and a teardrop on one of her lashes. Then the carriage continued, and her face was hidden once more. “It is not my secret to tell.”
“We could agree for me to tell you a string of my own sins if you like, until you feel comfortable enough to share whatever it might be. I suspect we might not even cover off the last month, but you tell me.”
There was a sniff from her, which Langley strongly suspected was her way of hiding a laugh.
“That will not be necessary,” Margot said primly.
“No, but the offer stands if you ever feel the need?—”
“He is—That is, the duke offered me an annuity. That is why I came. I am a mercenary woman.” Her voice echoed in the carriage, and Langley could tell she had forced herself to say it, desiring to clear the air, to have done with it. Once it was out though, it didn’t seem as if Miss Keating could stop. “I didn’t know him, not at all. It was only the first night of our acquaintance. The money is not guaranteed, though. I need the new duke to agree, and to get him on side, if I can present him with the diamonds and Ashmore’s killer, he can hardly refuse…”
Langley wanted more than anything to pull her into his arms, but he felt sure she would feel as if this was an improper or inappropriate course of action on his part. So he stayed listening to her uneven stream of words. The strangeness of Miss Keating’s rash actions, her desire for justice combining with her confusion twisted together, and once more Langley felt his resentment towards the dead man grow for putting Margot in such a position.
“High society would never accept one such as me—a woman not raised for anything high and mighty. I never knew before the duke wrote to me that he was my godfather.”
Into the weighty silence Langley asked, “Do you wish to know a great secret, Miss Keating?”
“Is it as great a sin, as greed?” she asked.
“Well, mine is this—I owe all my considerable success amongst thebeau mondeto one simple fact.”
“Your wealth, title, and good looks?”
“Those are three blessed things, and thank you for the compliment,” Langley said. This time he leant over and held her hand in a consoling manner. “No, I meant something that is truly the greatest gift amongst theton.”
“Tell me then, and do not keep me on tenterhooks.” He felt sure there was a ghost of a smile to her voice, which he hoped was the case.
“Do not give a damn what they make of you. I do not judge for seeking material goods. As for theton, they are not worth it. By and large,” he said it simply, because to him it was obvious.
He saw her smile, and then Miss Keating said, “That is easy for you to say, but?—”
“But much harder to carry out in practice?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“True, but you should take comfort from the fact that you are an exceptional case. You are not seeking matrimony, which immediately marks you out as quite different from the other ladies in society.”
“And the fact that I’m not a lady.”
“Half of thetonis ill bred, and the rest may be bastards too,” Langley said convivially, to which he noticed a strange response from her, so he hastily added, “Although I probably wouldn’t go making mention of it to any of the gathered guests we will meet.”
“So, you will help me survive thebeau monde? You agree?”
With a sigh, Langley realised he had been neatly trapped. “Very well, on one condition.”
“What is that?” Her tone implied she did not trust him, although they were still hand clasped.
“Why, to have fun, of course.”
CHAPTER 9
Over the next few days, Margot tried her best to stick to Langley’s advice. It was, she realised, a somewhat foreign concept to her. As the oldest child in a small vicarage, she had been used to worrying, practised in helping her mother around the cottage with only one servant, Mrs. Faircliffe, managing the pennies, cooking the meals, and teaching the younger two. The luxury of having a bevy full of servants to wait on her for breakfast, lunch, and dinner was a novelty. As well as having the liberty to decide how she would occupy her day. At least that was what Margot attempted to enjoy, until she realised Mrs. Bowley had other plans.
