Silence and disapproval followed Rex as he limped out of the club. Out in the street, he looked around to get his bearings. "We are near Lydia Burton's house of accommodation. What say we go speak to her?"
"I thought we were going to eat first? Do you think she serves supper? If she does, can you try to show a little finesse so we can stay to enjoy it? And the girls, too, of course. Diplomacy, that's the ticket, old man. Mrs. Burton fancies herself a lady."
The building was undistinguished among its prosperous neighbors, the decor was as elegant as Lady Royce's, and the madam was dressed in the height of fashion, except for the depth of her décolletage. She was delighted to see them. Gentlemen with money were always welcome, no matter their reputations. After the pleasantries, Mrs. Burton waved her manicured, beringed hand at a cluster of females sitting on gilt chairs at the side of the room, fanning themselves and giggling like debutantes at Almack's. "May I introduce you to one of my friends?"
The girls were trying to appear young and innocent and ladylike, and failing dismally. Rex turned away. He did not want a woman who reminded him of Amanda; the whole point of coming here tonight was to forget about her, and to let the world know she was not his mistress. He raised Mrs. Burton's soft white hand to his lips. "Only the best will do, madame."
She tittered. "The best is très expensive, my lord."
He smiled. "And worth every pound, I am sure." He carefully tucked an extravagant sum between her extraordinary breasts. She signaled for a maid to bring him a glass of champagne while she informed her assistant.
Daniel walked by and whispered, "Remember, finesse."
"Do you want to ask her?"
"Hell no." Daniel already had a brandy bottle in one hand and a redhead in the other. "This little lady is more my type." The little lady was taller than Rex and broader, and evidently more appetizing than the tiny tea sandwiches Mrs. Burton was serving.
The madam came back and led Rex to a small chamber decked with flowers and scented candles and mirrors. The room was too warm, La Burton was too buxom, and Rex was suddenly too bored, tired, uninterested. Damn, had Amanda stolen all of his appetites? No, the thought of her, her kisses, her soft breasts pressed against his chest, raised his temperature, and Lydia Burton's expectations. With her hand on the front of his trousers, she smiled and whispered, "Oh, my, a hero indeed," which compliment had a tinge of truth.
The truth? He did not want another woman, only answers to his questions. He stepped back.
The madam frowned, at his distance and the scratching at her door. "I said no interruptions!"
Daniel ignored her and scratched again, louder this time. "Rex, did you ask her yet? I'm done."
"Already?"
"I'm too hungry for seconds. A man needs his strength to perform, don't you know."
Mrs. Burton looked up at him. "What question?"
Her eagerness was gone. So was any notion of diplomacy. "Did you kill Sir Frederick Hawley?"
She slapped him, which was no answer. He held her wrist. "Did you?"
"That man never set foot in my establishment, I'll have you know. I did not kill him! You cannot come here and accuse me of such a thing. You'll ruin my business, you will." She looked at his hand, still on her arm. "Manhandling women? Trading pleasure for secrets? Hah, and they call me the whore. Your brother would be ashamed."
"My brother? I don't even have a brother! Stamfield is my cousin."
She picked up a candlestick and tried to hit him with that.
Daniel was leaning against the opened door, a smile on his face and a bottle tilted toward his lips. "I told you you needed a bit of Town bronze, coz."
She threw the candlestick at Daniel.
Rex grabbed his coat and his cousin and ran into the night.
They stopped to catch their breaths, laughing and sharing the bottle Daniel still had. "I suppose we could try White's," Rex said. "Those two men with T.H. as initials could both be there. Lord Havering never takes supper with his wife, I've heard, and Baron Hove keeps bachelor quarters."
"Lud, if we get thrown out of White's, we might as well go back to the country, so let me handle this one, after I've eaten if you please."
Not terribly hungry, Rex left Daniel with a bottle of wine while he looked into the card rooms. He came back to find his cousin with a second bottle, to wash down the second half of the cow he was eating. Rex reported that both of the men were here tonight, playing at the same corner table with a man who looked familiar, but Rex did not get his name. He was dark-haired, with a small mustache and spectacles, younger than the other whist players, and he had just declared the next to be his last hand. They'd be leaving soon.
Daniel took a long swallow of his wine, belched, and staggered to his feet.
Rex had second thoughts. "Are you sure you want to take over?"
"You haven't fared so well, have you? Watch and see how a professional works."
When they reached the far table, Daniel cleared his throat to get the men's attention. "Ahem. Gentlemen, pardon me. I apologize for interrupting your game." He bowed, but Rex had to hold onto the ends of his tailcoat to keep him from tipping over. "I was merely wondering if you would answer a question for me?"
"You are drunk, sirrah!"
Daniel bowed again. "But I am not a killer. Are you?"
Hove signaled for the waiter. Havering mumbled something uncomplimentary about Daniel's parentage.
"I take it that is a no? Neither of you murdered Sir Frederick Hawley?"
"Of course it is a no, you castaway chawbacon!"
The stranger in the corner was shaking his head in disgust.
"Then I thank you for your-" Daniel groaned, clamped his hand over his mouth and made a dash for the door.
He was not in time.
"Well, you did tell me we ought to make our presence known around town. I'd say we were a success tonight, wouldn't you?"
Chapter Twenty
Soaking his head, and his cousin, in a tub of water did not help. Neither did a full bath when they got back to Royce House. Rex still felt dirty. He'd crossed several suspects off his list, but while doing so had dragged his name, his career, and his best friend through the filth. He was supposed to solve a crime and reform his cousin, not help Daniel drown in spirits and sex. A fine example he'd shown tonight.
What Daniel needed was a nice girl, a solid countrywoman who would put up with his rough ways. She'd feed him and f-Well, she'd take care of all his needs, without whining about his poor showing on a dance floor. Daniel was the most loyal companion a man could have. He deserved no less in a woman. Perhaps Amanda knew of a likely candidate. She had been part of the beau monde and knew which debutante was fonder of a good gallop than a tame trot around Hyde Park.
No, he could not bother Amanda with courtship tripe. She had enough on her plate without adding Daniel. Which brought him back to the problem of seeing her exonerated. That did nothing for the problems of seeing her and wanting her, or wanting to see her, but he knew what he had to do, and he knew what he had better not do.
Tomorrow, Rex decided, he'd deal with the gun, not people. Objects did not lie or get insulted. They just existed. Of course, they could not say where they'd been or in whose hands, but proof of ownership should speak for itself. Daniel's latest theory was that a woman had shot Sir Frederick. A man, according to Daniel, admittedly not the cleverest of tacticians, would never leave his gun at the scene of a crime. A pistol was too easy to trace, which was why Rex put the gun on the top of his list. A burglar, especially, wouldn't shoot at a robbery victim. That made his crime doubly dangerous, the punishment far harsher if he were caught.
"But what if Amanda's entrance frightened the man?" Rex conjectured.