Page 12 of Corpse in the Canal

“Then you weren’t aware she was in London?”

“No reason I should be.”

Solomon held his gaze a moment longer. “Do you have any—any—idea where your master might be?”

Darren grimaced. “Between you and me, and not for Mr. Harvey’s ears—probably with some whore he picked up in the stews of St Giles.”

Chapter Three

As he strolled into White’s, Solomon’s mind jumped between the valet’s disclosures and this evening’s dinner with David. He hadn’t seen his brother so relaxed and happy since childhood, and he was eager to hear all about his Paris experiences.

The sight of the club porter jerked him back to the present, for he expected to be challenged. However, the porter merely inclined his head and murmured, “Mr. Grey.”

Solomon was startled, for although he was a member, he could count the number of times he had been here on one hand. Usually, it was looking for someone.

He paused and glanced back at the porter. “By any chance, is Mr. Percival Harvey in the club today?”

“I don’t believe so, sir. Several other gentlemen have been asking for him, too.”

“Have they?” Solomon murmured. “May I know which gentlemen?”

“Mr. Grantham, for one. And Sir George Dunne.”

“Thank you.”

Solomon was not acquainted with either of those members, but as he sauntered around the reading room, he did run into someone he did know slightly, and who good-naturedly hauled him off to the dining room and introduced him to Sir George Dunne.

This proved to be a fashionably dressed man perhaps a couple of years younger than Solomon, who sat alone with a large steak in front of him, his knife and fork hovering over it as though he were in some doubt. He seemed almost relieved to be interrupted.

“Sit down,” he said when Solomon’s friend had strolled off again. “What would you like?”

“Oh, nothing, just a moment of your time, if you don’t mind. I’m actually looking for Percival Harvey.”

Dunne grunted. “Owes you, too, does he?”

“I never lend,” Solomon said.

Dunne grinned as though Solomon had made a joke. “Stand in line, my friend.”

“I see. You don’t know where I might find him, do you?”

“He has rooms off Piccadilly, but his man always denies him.”

“He hasn’t been there for a couple of days. I understand he has a number of female acquaintances who might be—er…looking after him.”

Dunne nodded thoughtfully. “Bit of a ladies’ man, is Perce. On the other hand, he doesn’t care to live in squalor, so I doubt you’d find him with some dollymop for long.”

“Doesn’t he have a better class of lady friend?”

“He doesn’t keep a mistress, if that’s what you mean.”

“Why not?” After all, it would seem the perfect solution for a wealthy and virile young man who didn’t care for squalor.

“Variety,” Dunne said, returning to his cooling steak without noticeable enthusiasm. “And however lovely, they’re expensive little things.”

“Then Harvey is a trifle embarrassed right now?”

“Must be if he’s late with his debts of honor.” He paused, a piece of beef halfway to his mouth. “I know you won’t spread it around. He’s a friend of mine.”