‘Come with us,’ Brodrick called jovially over his shoulder, one foot on the bottom step of his coach. He saw Hannah gird herself up for an acidly worded refusal, and added hastily, ‘No, not you, madam. The invitation was intended for Thomas and Colonel Turner only. The kind of fun I have in mind will be unsuitable for a lady.’
‘You mean you plan to visit whores?’ asked Hannah, very coldly.
‘Actually, I was thinking of serious music,’ replied Brodrick, equally icy. ‘Of the kind that is beyond the female mind to comprehend. Thomas is an excellent violist, while the colonel played for the king of Sweden during the celebrations surrounding the Treaty of Roskilde, so he should be up to my exacting standards, too. Your squawking flageolet would be anathema to us, madam.’
‘Will you let him insult me, Tom?’ demanded Hannah, but Chaloner’s thoughts were elsewhere. He had been at Roskilde, spying for Thurloe, but did not remember Turner among the entertainers. Being a music lover, he had paid more attention to the performers than he should have done, and that part of the occasion was etched vividly in his mind. Yet again, the colonel had lied.
But Turner spoke before Chaloner could challenge him. ‘Not tonight, Brodrick. I am tired after hunting the statue all day, and would make a poor addition to your consort. I am going home.’
A number of women were openly crestfallen at this announcement, and he hastened to console them. Hannah glared at Chaloner for failing to defend her, but then snow began to fall in larger, harder flakes, driven by a cruel, north-easterly wind, and she declared it was no time for lingering. Brodrick clattered away with Neale, while Turner bade fond farewells to his entourage and started to walk towards his lodgings. Chaloner hailed a hackney, intending to see Hannah home, then spend the night looking for Greene and the King’s bust. He was exhausted, but he would only have to keep going until the following noon — at which point he would probably be able to rest for longer than he would like.
‘Nicholas died happy,’ said Hannah, once she was settled in the carriage. The snow was so thick that the driver could not tear along at the usual breakneck speed, and the ride was pleasantly sedate. ‘Although I imagine Bess will think twice before sitting on anyone’s knee again!’
‘It preceded her inheriting a fortune,’ Chaloner pointed out. ‘Perhaps she will think it was worth it.’
‘I am surprised Turner has not made more of a play for her,’ said Hannah, making a moue of distaste. ‘He is a fortune-seeker, and Bess is foolish enough to fall for his shallow charms. The man is a snake, and I would not trust him with a … a coffee bean!’
‘He does have a habit of stretching the truth,’ acknowledged Chaloner, recalling that Turner had presented Bess with a crucifix, which suggested some kind of play had already been made.
‘Stretching?’ echoed Hannah in disbelief. ‘He elongates it to the point where it is no longer recognisable. And he is brazen. Tonight, right in front of me, he told Bess that he hailed from Ireland, then turned around and told some other simpering fool that he was from Yorkshire. He even uses different names. He is not Colonel Turner to all his hopeful conquests.’
‘No?’ Chaloner was not really listening, thinking instead about which of the palace guards he should tackle regarding the stolen statue.
‘No. He called himself Julius Grey when he was introduced to Margaret Symons, but then had to admit to the lie when someone called him “Turner” in front of her.’
That made Chaloner look up sharply. ‘Julius Grey?’
‘No, that is not right,’ Hannah frowned in thought, then brightened. ‘James Grey. That was it!’
‘Are you sure? Only Temperance is in love with a man called James Grey. But it cannot be Turner.’
Hannah shrugged deeper inside her cloak; it was bitterly cold in the carriage. ‘Why not?’
‘Because she could not introduce us the night she told me about him, owing to the fact that he was not there. Turner was there, though.’
Hannah patted his knee, rather patronisingly. ‘You have said before that she dislikes the way you condemn her lifestyle, so she probably wanted to give you time to get used to the idea, lest shock lead you to storm up to Turner and call him out for a rake.’
‘You think she lied to me?’ Why not? he thought. She had done it before.
‘I have never met her, so I cannot say. Did she tell you anything about this James Grey?’
‘Only that he played the viol.’
‘Well, there you are, then. Turner plays the viol — you just heard him and Brodrick talking about it.’
‘But Turner does not play the viol. Violists have toughened skin on the tips of their left-hand fingers, from pressing on the strings, but his fingers are soft. And he was not at Roskilde, either.’ Chaloner frowned, as something else occurred to him. ‘Grey gave Temperance a token — a piece of red silk that she wears in her bodice.’
‘Turner has red silk in the lining of his coat,’ pounced Hannah. ‘It is newly sewn, because a couple of pins have not yet been removed, and I recall thinking that some poor lady was likely to feel a prick before the night was out. So to speak. He must have had a kerchief made of the scraps, and gave it to her as a keepsake. He does hand out keepsakes, although he usually confines himself to lockets.’
‘I know he gave lockets to several ladies at Court.’
Hannah nodded. ‘At least five that I have seen swooning over the things. I suppose he must have a ready supply.’
A sense of deep unease began to wash over Chaloner. ‘Temperance said they were going to be married, but …’ He trailed off, not knowing how to finish without sounding disloyal.
‘But Turner has been frolicking with Lady Castlemaine, Lady Muskerry, Bess and several other very wealthy women,’ supplied Hannah. ‘So why would he deign to wed a brothel-keeper? Is that what you mean to say?’
‘Actually, Temperance is probably richer than any of them, because her money is her own, and she is not obliged to rely on others to dole it out. I was thinking more of her … her …’
‘Her looks,’ finished Hannah, when he faltered a second time. ‘Brodrick told me she is plain and fat. Why would Turner settle for an drab wife, when he can have a Court beauty?’
Chaloner looked away, watching the snow falling outside. Where there were lights, he could see it slanting down thickly. It was settling, and by morning, London would be covered in a blanket of white.
‘You should warn her,’ said Hannah, when he made no reply. ‘You cannot stand by and let her make a fool of herself. Or worse. It would not be the first time a lonely girl snatched too eagerly at the prospect of a handsome darling, and lost everything to him.’
Chaloner did not think Temperance was lonely, but she did not confide in him any more, so who knew what she was really feeling? ‘She will resent my interference,’ he said uncomfortably.
‘Of course she will, but that is what friendship entails on occasion. You say she invited you to dine this evening, but you sent word asking to be excused. Go — say you changed your mind. When she introduces you to “James Grey”, Turner will at least be shamed into telling her his real name. Perhaps that alone will be enough to make her wary.’
‘He said he was going home,’ Chaloner began lamely. ‘And-’
‘Because he wanted to avoid being exposed as a fraud when Brodrick put a viol in his hands,’ said Hannah impatiently. ‘I wager anything you please that he is on his way to Temperance as we speak.’
‘You seem very keen for me to leave,’ said Chaloner, wondering why she should encourage him to meddle in the affairs of a woman she had never met.
‘I do not want you to feel guilty for letting down a friend.’ Hannah hammered on the hackney roof. ‘Driver! There has been a change of plan. Take us to Hercules’ Pillars Alley instead.’