Page 85 of Never a Duchess
“I’m escaping London,” the opera singer admitted. “I’ve grown tired of the games men play. And there’s no one here worthy of my esteem.”
Callan forced himself to concentrate. “Pike said Sheridan made a scene here last night. Did he come to accuse ye of slandering his good name?”
Again, the woman touched her abdomen. “Sheridan enjoys the chase. He always wants what he cannot have. He tried to persuade me to stay. But like the most deadly of snakes, he spits nothing but venom.”
“Forgive me,” Lillian began, “but we must ask you a few questions before you leave. With the magistrate involved, and you being named as an accomplice to theft, we would hate for the authorities to detain you.”
The lady’s face turned as white as fresh snowfall. “An accomplice to theft?” In a failed bid to sound shocked, she sounded guilty.
“We know about the letter Anne stole from Major Rowlands.” Lillian’s voice carried a hint of pity. “We know about the broken figurine. Know the handkerchief is yours.”
“We need to know who ye met in the garden,” Callan said, “and what it has to do with a man named O’Malley.”
Shoulders hunched, the lady seemed to shrink into herself. “Please. Don’t make me tell you. Let me sing tonight and leave this godforsaken place before it’s too late.”
Callan thought of MacTavish writhing in the carriage seat like an injured animal. He’d almost lost the only man who’d ever treated him like a son. One of the few men he respected.
“My friend almost died sniffing that damn perfume. Ye’ll tell us what ye know. The cells in Newgate are nae pleasant, especially for a woman expecting a child.”
Madame Delafont almost swooned again. She pressed her hand to her forehead. “Sheridan told you about my condition?”
It was a calculated guess. Whenever Callan’s father complained about begetting only one heir, his mother touched her abdomen.
If ye came to my bed, it wouldnae be a problem.
“Who did ye meet in the garden?” With his patience stretched as tight as a bow, he’d have no more distractions tonight. “Was it Rowlands or Baudelaire?”
Who else would want Valmary’s recipe for May Bell?
Tension hung in the air, thick, palpable.
As the lady contemplated her future, she started mumbling about surviving long enough to board the boat. “Mrs Rowlands made a dreadful mistake. She told Baudelaire about the gift from Mr Valmary. When the poor woman died suddenly, Monsieur Baudelaire had me bribe the maid to steal the letter.”
“Why risk yer neck for Baudelaire?” Callan asked, but then recalled the violent tussle in the garden.
“He terrifies me. It’s why I must leave tonight.”
“Who’s O’Malley?”
She gulped. “A chemist who used to work for Monsieur Baudelaire. He has a house near St Saviour’s Docks, but he met us outside the old Bermondsey Spa. Monsieur Baudelaire, he wishes to create the perfect scent. He means to win the game at all costs.”
Someone needed to teach the Frenchman a lesson.
Threatening women was no game.
“But Mrs Rowlands died weeks ago,” Lillian said, quite certain of the facts. “Why did Anne wait to give you the letter? Why visit the Kinver residence and risk being seen?”
Madame Delafont’s weary sigh said she found the questions draining. “Because she changed her mind. She didn’t want to betray her mistress and said she would return the letter to Mr Valmary.”
“But her sister is sick, and ye offered her a hundred pounds,” Callan surmised, “a sum she couldnae refuse.”
The lady had the decency to look ashamed. “You must understand, I had no choice. Anne was just as terrified. When I sang for Lord and Lady Kinver on their wedding day, she suggested I come to the house to make the exchange.”
Pike entered, carrying a tea tray, the china cup clattering on the saucer. “We’ve pound cake and cheese. Mr Warren said that should see you right. He wants you on stage in fifteen minutes to warm up your vocals.”
“What will happen to me now?” the lady muttered when Pike turned his back to set down the tray.
Lillian stood, as eager as Callan to leave this place and partake in a late-night adventure. “We will speak to Mr Daventry. But you know how these things are. It may be as late as tomorrow afternoon before he has time to act on the matter.”
