Tasha Alexander - A Fatal Waltz

“My role in the fiasco wasn’t worthy of blackmail. I didn’t kill anyone. But what are you suggesting? That I was involved in Fortescue’s murder?”

“Of course not.” I smiled sweetly. Mr. Hamilton’s eyes flashed bright, and I knew at once that he was a man who could be charmed in under half a second. “But Lord Fortescue had files on everyone. He was a staunch supporter of yours, and I don’t believe he bestowed that distinction on anyone over whom he did not have power.” I pulled my chair closer to the desk and leaned forward. “I do hope I’m not offending you.”

He picked up the pen and began twirling it again, faster this time. “I… I can’t say that I’m accustomed to ladies discussing these sorts of things with me.”

“You seem to me enlightened enough to welcome lively discussion.” It was appalling, but I actually fluttered my eyelashes.

“I—I certainly hope so.”

“So what did Lord Fortescue hold over you?” I asked.

“It has to do with my mother. I will say nothing further.”

“Then I will not press you on the subject,” I said. This revelation made me even more disgusted with Lord Fortescue. I ran over the facts of the duel in my head again, grasping for anything that might help Robert’s case, although it seemed an increasingly unlikely prospect. “One more question. It strikes me as odd that Josef Schröder chose an Englishman as his second. Were he and Albert Sanburne close friends?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Now he leaned forward. “Sanburne had only been in Vienna a week or so before the duel. He’d left London on the heels of a scandal. All very hush-hush, of course.”

“What sort of scandal?”

“Oh, dear. Well, I never heard the details, and it was only a rumor at any rate.” He stopped and tugged at his collar. “It’s not the sort of thing to which a lady should be exposed.”

“Come now, Mr. Hamilton, you can tell me.” He did not respond immediately, so I tilted my head and gave him a look of earnest, sweet interest that I’d not pulled from my arsenal since the first season I was out in society.

“Well.” He coughed. “You’ve perhaps heard some mention of the Cleveland Street scandal? More than two years ago, I think.”

“I can’t say that I’m familiar with it.” It must have occurred when I was in deep mourning for Philip, before I’d begun reading the newspaper on a regular basis.

“If I may be candid, Lady Ashton, I’m relieved to hear that.”

I could find out the details of the scandal on my own. “So what was Mr. Sanburne’s connection to Josef Schröder?”

“Suffice it to say that Schröder was sympathetic to Sanburne’s involvement in the scandal. Please don’t ask me to say more.”

I did not think it possible that my opinion of Lord Fortescue could be lower than it was, but knowing that he had held over Mr. Hamilton his mother’s relationship with a man she’d loved since childhood sickened me. I had no interest in tormenting the poor man, so I thanked him effusively and excused myself, amused by the way he tripped over himself to escort me from the building. From the Treasury, I went directly to the offices of the London Daily Post and asked to see Sir Julian Knowles.

The burly newspaperman greeted me with effusive affection and paraded me through the building as if I were a trophy he’d won in a sporting contest. “Lady Emily Ashton, boys. Aspire to earn a formal introduction to a person of her stature.” He ushered me into his office, a cozy room full of walnut paneling and leaded glass windows, the unmistakable odor of pipe tobacco oozing from every corner. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

I perched on the edge of a leather chair. “It’s a bit embarrassing, really. I was hoping you could give me some information about the Cleveland Street scandal.”

His eyebrows shot up, and he burst into a fit of coughing. “Not a topic fit for a lady.” But then he leaned forward. “Why do you want to know? Have you learned that someone connected to you was involved in it?”

“No, not that. But…” I hesitated, wondering if I should continue. “I have some information that’s related to it that may be significant to Robert Brandon’s defense.”

“How so?”

“First you must tell me the nature of the scandal.”

“Well.” More coughing. “It was…you see…the Metropolitan Police shut down a…er…house of ill repute that counted several high-ranking aristocrats among its clients.”

“Oh. Is that all? Doesn’t that happen with alarming frequency?”

“Not quite in this manner, Lady Ashton. And how would you know about such things?”

“I read your paper, Sir Julian.”

“Yes, well…” He coughed again.

“What made Cleveland Street different?” I asked.

“The…er…establishment was staffed by…telegraph boys.”

“I don’t…” I paused, not entirely understanding.

“A brothel. Staffed by telegraph boys.” He covered his mouth with a handkerchief and turned an astonishing shade of red.

“Oh,” I said. “I’d assumed it was something much worse.”

“Worse?”

“Sir Julian, I’ve read all the Greeks. I’m not so easily shocked.”

“I do like you, Lady Ashton, very much.” He wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and began to warm to his subject. “Lots of rumors about the Duke of Clarence connected with Cleveland Street.”

“Prince Eddy?”

“The one and only. He managed to wriggle out of it, though. Lord Arthur Somerset and the Earl of Euston weren’t so lucky. What has any of this to do with Brandon?” he asked.

“A gentleman called Albert Sanburne was involved in a similar scandal.”

“How do you know about that?”

“Surely you can’t expect I’d reveal a source?”

“Touché, Lady Ashton. I do remember Sanburne, though. And I think I see why you believe there’s a connection with Brandon.”

“Do tell.”

“Sanburne was arrested in a similar raid. The papers all kept quiet about it. Lord Fortescue made it worth our while. But I’m afraid that’s nothing to do with his murder.”

“He bribed you?”

Sir Julian shrugged. “It’s not a question of money, Lady Ashton. The story wasn’t particularly interesting anyway, so it didn’t hurt us to focus on other things. The participants weren’t nearly so high-profile as those at Cleveland Street.”

“Was Fortescue involved?”

“No, no, he’d never be so careless as to let himself get caught in any sort of compromising position. Sanburne worked in his office. Main reason I can recall the story at all is because although Fortescue kept it out of the papers, Sanburne was ruined anyway.”

“So the scandal did become public?”

“‘Public’ isn’t perhaps the proper word. But someone leaked it, and Sanburne’s engagement was called off. The girl’s father humiliated him. Chased him all the way to Vienna, if I recall.”

“Who was Mr. Sanburne’s fiancée?” I asked.

“Oh, I don’t remember. It must have been ten years ago. And these scandals, they come and go so quickly, who could keep track of any of them?” He poured tobacco into a battered pipe.

“I imagine those whose lives were ruined don’t forget so quickly.”

“Now don’t go spoiling my fun, Lady Ashton. If you aristocrats are going to behave badly, you’ve got to expect consequences.”

I hardly slept that night, tossing fitfully in a state of semiconsciousness. I was no closer to finding out who had killed Lord Fortescue, nor had I even a sliver of evidence that might exonerate Robert. But while all this troubled me deeply, it was not what kept me awake. I’d heard nothing from Colin since leaving Vienna, and I could not shake from my head a series of horribly imagined images of what Mr. Harrison might do to him.