‘Hookers?’ I hazarded.
‘No, not hookers. He uses the place for extravagant parties. Catering to a particular kind of guest.’
‘Swingers, then?’
‘Do you always think in tabloid-speak these days, Lucy? It’s so unrefined.’
‘I do beg your pardon.’ We gave each other bitter smiles. ‘Go on then. Tell me how elegant and sophisticated it all really is. I’m sure it’s not just rich people shagging on luxury furnishings.’
‘The thing is, Lucy, I’ve never been to one of these parties. I’ve never been invited.’
‘How rude.’
‘Yes, isn’t it? But he likes to keep me in my place. He says he’ll invite me when I have a … guest … of my own to bring.’
‘Joss, could you stop talking in riddles and get to the point? Please?’ I looked at my watch. I was supposed to be in an editorial meeting in an hour.
‘You know, perhaps you should call me Lord Lethbridge. It is my name now, after all.’
‘Might I enquire when His Lordship intends to spill the precious bloody beans?’
Joss hesitated. Actually, I think he was nervous. He was talking to a journalist about something he shouldn’t, after all. He always went all stiff and princely when he was nervous.
‘Please?’ I said, more softly. ‘I promise I won’t blab. It’ll be our secret.’
‘This is serious,’ he said, entreating me with his darkest look.
‘I know. I know it is.’
‘Willingham Hall is at stake. And that’s not all. My life might depend on your discretion.’
‘Wow.’
He sat back in his chair and took a deep breath.
‘I met … this person … at a party. The kind of party he likes to throw, albeit on a slightly smaller scale. It was in London. At a dungeon.’
‘The London Dungeon?’ I said, a little confused. Were they all mad-keen on grisly murders?
‘No, Jesus, Lucy, are you being deliberately dim? A dungeon. In London. Not the London Dungeon.’
Light dawned, albeit of a murky nature.
‘You mean a kinky fetish type of thing?’
‘That’s what I mean.’
I paused and stared at him.
‘Oh.’ It was all I could think of to say.
‘Yes,’ he said, inspecting his fingernails, with the odd surreptitious glance at my expression.
Joss in a dungeon. Was it such an outlandish thought? I mean, there had been nothing weird or fetishy going on when we were together, but we were young, and … actually, looking back, perhaps there had been signs.
A memory popped into my head, of him pushing me up against the tree he had used to tie me to in childhood, holding my wrists above my head, thrusting into me, his eyes like coals. Always that tree. Every time.
‘Whips and chains?’ I said, just for clarification.