Page 4 of Evidence of Evil
“Oh, I think we have been married only a short while, don’t you? That will account for any lack of familiarity with each other. I suggest we met at an exhibition of art, or perhaps a lecture at the Geographical Society?”
He blinked. “Have you ever been to such a lecture?”
“Several. You would be surprised by the breadth of my interests.”
“I already am,” he said.
She wondered if it was true but refused to look at him to find out. Why had she thought of him as soon as she read Lizzie’s letter? Just because they had solved a mystery together in the summer?
No, it was more than that. It had always been more than that. Though he disapproved of her on a level that could never be undone, he had said they were friends. Which was a novelty. She knew many amiable men, but none were friends except Solomon Grey.
After Norfolk, when they had each returned from Greenforth Manor, she had expected him to call on her—a morning call, of course—only he never had. Nor had he written even the tersest note. And when she had run into Lady Grizelda, whose fault itwas they had met in the first place, she had heard nothing of him for weeks.
Elizabeth Maule was her excuse.
Oh, Constance was truly concerned for her old friend, but Lizzie was given to panic and exaggeration, so Constance doubted that Lady Maule was truly about to be accused of murder. She was visiting mainly to be sure of her friend’s well-being, and to ascertain exactly what was going on in Elizabeth’s life. Suggesting a friend come too had been a moment of foolishness she instantly regretted—until Elizabeth wrote back that they must pretend to be married.
Constance had a mischievous soul. And so she had finally sought Solomon out. She hadn’t truly expected him to agree, let alone be prepared to sit in a carriage with her for two days and pretend to be the husband of a notorious courtesan.
But it seemed they truly were friends, for here he was. His gaze fixed on her face in the long silence that followed his admission of surprise.
He stirred. “What else have you been doing since leaving Norfolk? Have you been well?”
Truth be told, she was hurt that he had waited ten weeks to find out. But she would never admit it.
“Quite well, thank you,” she replied politely, and then went on the attack. “What of you? Are you ill that you are playing truant and planning journeys abroad?”
“No…”
She peered more closely at him, for the denial was not a very firm one. Helookedhealthy enough. His regular, handsome features were not marred by signs of exhaustion or pain. His velvet-dark eyes were clear and bright. He was thin, of course, but it seemed to be the way he was made. It did not denote a lack of physical strength, as she well knew.
She doubted he was ill, and yet he looked away, out of the carriage window, as though to avoid her gaze.
He drew in a breath. “I believe I am…bored.”
She blinked. “Bored?”
“It is a sort of sickness of the spirit.” He sounded almost apologetic. “Certainly, it is a weakness. Once I have things running as I wish, I tend to lose interest.”
“You have no more room for expansion?” she asked in amazement.
“Oh, there is always room. I just have no desire at the moment. In all my businesses, I have good people in place, though I have not given up my oversight. I have just made myself less…necessary.”
“While you make a leisurely journey around the world?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps. Certainly while I look for another area of interest.”
No, Solomon was not a contented man. Restless, clever, and crushingly lonely, he only ever seemed to be driven toward what made him more alone than ever. Once, she had vowed to show him happiness—an arrogant, overambitious vow if ever there was one. Certainly if he would not stay put, nor even write to her.
“Will you go back to Jamaica?” she asked lightly.Please say no…
“Not without reason.”
She knew what that meant. His only reason would be news of his lost twin brother, who had vanished without a trace at the age of ten. In the midst of the Jamaican slave revolt.
His gaze came back to hers, self-deprecating, with a touch of humor. “I am searching for inspiration. Perhaps I will find it with your mystery—and help your friend at the same time.”
Chapter Two
