“Let me be clear,” Daniel said. “The information I have imparted is worth a damn sight more than the address of a courtesan. Do not make me regret my decision. During my visit, I might persuade the lady to stop pestering you for money.”
At that, Tranmere’s shoulders sagged. “Georgina refuses to leave the house I rented for her in Broad Street.”
“And the number?”
“Five. Number five.”
Daniel inclined his head. “Then I shall leave you to your meeting. Should you need to hire an agent to investigate your man of business, Horbury has my details.”
Once back in the carriage, Daphne wasted no time in demanding to know every word exchanged.
“Did Tranmere say anything else?” With wide expressive eyes, she sat forward. “How did he react when you mentioned the theft?”
“I made no mention of the stolen dresses. A man who keeps a mistress thinks with his … with a part of his anatomy that isn’t his brain.” Tranmere would bed Miss Cartwright again if the opportunity presented itself. Daniel had noted the flash of jealousy in the fool’s eyes when he’d asked for the courtesan’s address. “While the woman is intent on making life difficult for Tranmere, I susp
ect he could still be won over by her charms.”
“But did he tell you where you might find Miss Cartwright?”
Daniel nodded. “We’ll make a quick call at her residence in Broad Street and then I’ll take you home.”
Only then could they get to the matter of the real case, the one that required a more thorough, in-depth investigation. Indeed, the burning question was who the hell wanted Daphne Chambers dead and why?
“A quick call?” she asked curiously. “So you’re confident you’ll gain a confession despite the lack of evidence?”
“A scorned lover is the prime suspect in any case. You know that.”
Chapter 8
“Tell your mistress that Lord Tranmere sent us and we must make the offer in person.”
The maid’s terrified gaze scanned the breadth of Mr Thorpe’s chest. Her wide eyes flitted to his beard which she appeared to find equally alarming.
“We need but five minutes of her time,” Daphne said to ease the servant’s fears.
The girl nodded. “Wait ‘ere a moment.”
They stood on the doorstep while she scurried off to alert her mistress.
“Do you think Miss Cartwright will see us?” Daphne could not imagine Thorpe taking no for an answer. “If not, we must wait until she leaves the house and accost her then.”
“Miss Cartwright will see us,” Thorpe insisted. “The woman is desperate and will be curious to hear our offer.”
The maid returned, opened the door wide and waved for them to enter. She escorted them to the drawing room where they found Miss Cartwright wearing nothing but a silk wrapper, her golden hair draped over one shoulder as she lay stretched out on the chaise.
“You are here at Tranmere’s behest?” she asked weakly, her limp hand resting palm up on her forehead. “Forgive me, I am suffering from a strange malady and cannot sit up. It is a sickness of the heart no doubt.”
Daphne suppressed a grin. When Miss Cartwright wasn’t bedding married men, perhaps she took a turn on the stage.
“We’re here with an offer,” Mr Thorpe said bluntly.
Miss Cartwright squinted out of one eye, the corners of her mouth curling up when noting Mr Thorpe’s thoroughly masculine form. “Please, if you will assist me, sir, I may be able to sit.”
“For goodness' sake,” Daphne muttered under her breath, keen to observe the line of Daniel Thorpe’s gaze.
Did he find such overt displays of femininity attractive?
Despite his austere facade, did the frivolous lady before him speak to his most primal needs?