“It could be an address of a solicitor or doctor. Or someone he met at the bagnio who entertains certain clients at home. I’ll ask Trent to investigate.”
A light knock on the door brought the footman with the breakfast tray. Wycliff insisted on eating in bed, and so Scarlett nibbled on toast while reading the entries in the book.
“When you’ve finished eating, I intend to lick every crumb off your chest,” he said in the sinful tone that stirred the hairs on her nape.
“Had you told me that before, I would have gnawed on the bread like a savage.”
He leant over and kissed her shoulder.
It took nothing more than a suggestive comment and one chaste kiss to ignite a fire in her core. “I get the sense we might not venture far from bed today.”
“As I’m in debt to you for eighteen hours’ worth of pampering, I imagine not.”
She turned the page in the book, gazed at the words, but they failed to penetrate her brain. “We must at least attempt to find something useful in this book,” she said when Wycliff trailed his finger the length of her arm.
“We have. We will calculate when Joshua intends to visit the bagnio and surprise him there. He can hardly refuse to answer our questions when strapped to all four corners of the poster bed. And I shall send word to Trent and ask him to visit the house on Ely Place today. Flannery has men watching this house, so what else can we do in the meantime?”
True.
But she couldn’t help but wonder about Jemima.
“Do you not think we are making a mistake focusing all our attention on Joshua? There are other suspects.”
The marquis was on their list, but she supposed neither of them cared to pay the pompous lord a visit. One did not threaten or bribe such a prominent member of the aristocracy.
“Joshua is the one with the most to gain.”
“At the time the intruder struck, I was no threat to your father’s ambition to see you wed. That does not mean he wasn’t involved in the shooting at Vauxhall.”
“No, although he finds the thought of revenge utterly distasteful.”
“He doesn’t strike me as a man who creeps around in the dark, or a man who hires someone to threaten and intimidate on his behalf.” And they knew with absolute certainty that he had not left his supper box.
Silence descended.
Scarlett continued looking through the book, knowing that guilt’s rigid finger did indeed point to Joshua Steele. But then another entry caught her attention. It took a moment for her eyes to absorb the words. Scarlett flicked frantically through the pages looking for similar listings. She found two more.
“What is it?” Wycliff asked.
“At no point since the death of that abominable creature I married have I seen Joshua in the company of Lord Rathbone. And yet he has visited the lord’s house in Portland Place three times in two months.”
“Perhaps Steele feared Rathbone was competition. Perhaps he thought that if you grew close to the lord, you might divulge his secrets.”
“But they are both members of White’s.” She knew that, but did not know if Rathbone had taken part in the wager. “Why not conduct their conversation in one of the private rooms? And Lady Rathbone made no mention of the visits.”
Consumed with suspicion, she could not shake the feeling that both lords were conspiring to bring about her downfall.
While Wycliff took the notebook and scanned the pages, Scarlett’s mind concocted all sorts of villainous plans. And yet Lord Rathbone had appeared sincere in his attentions. Then again, Lord Steele had seemed just as trustworthy when she married him three years ago.
“By my calculations, Joshua will visit the bagnio either tonight or tomorrow night. Cavanagh will visit the madam of the house and use his seductive skills to persuade her to divulge information.”
“And what will we do?”
Wycliff arched a sinful brow. “For the time being, I need to work on banishing the fearful thoughts from your head.” From the way he moistened his lips, she knew what he had in mind. “And hopefully tonight we will visit a brothel for the dissolute. We will give Joshua Steele the pain he so desperately craves. We will discover the truth.”
Chapter Sixteen
Altan and bagnio were not words that rolled easily off the tongue. Translated, they meant golden brothel or something to that effect. No doubt the owner thought the name created an air of mystery. Or was it that with such specialised services on offer, they did not need to attract the usual patrons?