‘Do not be so harsh on me, Christopher.’
‘A round of applause seems inappropriate.’
‘I expect you to appreciate your brother’s position.’
‘Allying yourself with your companions in corruption in a bid to deflower an innocent young woman!’ said Christopher. ‘That’s your position. I’m not surprised that you or Sir Willard were drawn into this hideous scheme, but I expected more of Mr Prout. He struck me as a man with some sense of honour.’
‘Yet he proposed that we set up the Society in the first place.’
‘Indeed?’
‘Elkannah even drew up the articles of association and nominated the amount of money that was to be involved.’
‘Money?’ Christopher’s voice was rich with disgust. ‘There was money at stake here? What sort of degenerates are you that you should gamble on the loss of a lady’s virtue?’
‘It was not like that, Christopher.’
‘What other construction can I put upon it?’
‘Think about Susan Cheever.’
‘Don’t you dare mention Susan’s name in this context,’ said Christopher, pulsing with fury as he grabbed his brother by the shoulders to shake him hard. ‘Keep her out of it.’
In the interests of safety, Henry stepped back out of his brother’s reach, smoothing the wrinkles in his coat and adjusting the wig that had been shaken down over one eye. Seeing how irate his brother was, he measured his words.
‘You have just proved my point, Christopher,’ he said.
‘What point?’
‘Love is a ruthless emotion. When once it gets hold of us, we are driven to extremes by violent passion. I only had to mention your beloved and you flew at me.’
‘You deserved it, Henry.’
‘I also deserve a fair hearing. The Society was conceived during a drinking bout in a tavern, and I subscribed too hastily to its rules. As soon as I began to court Araminta Jewell, as she then was, I shed my lustful feelings and became instead madly in love.’
‘But still in pursuit of that purse.’
‘It was a foolish game, played out among friends.’
‘Four confirmed rakes, stalking their prey.’
‘Not in my case,’ argued Henry. ‘I felt about Araminta as you feel about Susan.’ He jumped back smartly as Christopher threatened him with a bunched fist. ‘As you wish,’ he added, quickly. ‘If the comparison offends you, I’ll keep her name out of it. I simply ask you to admit one thing. Is it not true that someone in the grip of passion will do anything to secure the favours of his inamorata?’
‘No, Henry, respect and gentlemanly restraint hold him back.’
‘Well, it was not so with me. I was desperate to see that portrait of Araminta. The thought that it was only a few streets away burned into my brain like a hot iron.’
‘So you decided to steal it.’
‘I only wanted to look at it.’
‘So that you’d be able to find it in the dark later that night.’
‘The thought never occurred to me.’
‘Be honest,’ said Christopher, advancing on him. ‘You cannot hide behind the excuse of blind passion then claim you were able to control it. If it took you as far as the house, it would have made you want to possess that portrait.’ Henry began to jabber. ‘Give me a straight answer, man. This is important. Lady Culthorpe has lost a husband. Why did you set out to increase her misery by taking that portrait of her from the studio?’
‘That was not my intention,’ said Henry.
‘Then what was it?’ Christopher grabbed him again. ‘We are trying to solve a murder and vindicate an innocent man. That portrait holds great significance so I need to know what happened to it. Now, will you tell me or do I have to beat the truth of you?’
‘You’re crumpling my new coat!’ protested Henry.
‘If you don’t tell me what happened, I’ll tear everything in your wardrobe to shreds. Now, speak. For the sake of Lady Culthorpe, I must recover that portrait. Where, in God’s name, is it?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You’re lying again.’
‘I don’t know,’ repeated Henry. ‘It was not there.’
Christopher released him. ‘So you did go back at night?’
‘Yes — but only to look at it.’
‘In the dark?’
‘I’d lit a candle. I was a true votary. I had an overpowering desire to worship at her altar. That was all. I wanted to gaze lovingly upon Araminta’s beauty.’
‘Then bring it back here as a trophy. Is this what it’s come to, Henry?’ asked his brother with revulsion. ‘A man is brutally killed and the only way you try to console the widow you profess to love is to break into a house and steal her portrait.’
‘It was not there, Christopher,’ said the other, meekly. ‘Araminta has disappeared. When I saw it earlier, the portrait was standing on the easel beside the window.’
‘And that’s exactly where I caught a glimpse of it.’
‘It had been replaced.’
‘By what?’
‘I blush to tell you.’
‘By what, Henry?’
‘A portrait of Lady Hester Lingoe.’
Chapter Eight
Henry Redmayne collapsed into a chair. He cut a sorry figure. Dressed in his finery for an evening with friends, he was now totally deflated. His body drooped and his shoulders sagged. With his long, thin, sad face hollowed by despair and framed by his wig, he looked like a giant spaniel bemoaning the death of its master. Notwithstanding his rage, Christopher felt some sympathy for him. He had bullied the truth out of his brother and left him in disarray.
‘Are you sure that Lady Culthorpe’s portrait was not there?’
‘Yes,’ mumbled Henry.
‘It could have been somewhere else in the studio.’
‘I searched, Christopher. I looked at every painting in the room and there was no sign of Araminta. Someone had got there before me. I only came to gaze in wonder. The rogue went there to steal.’
‘So did you,’ said Christopher. ‘You swore to me that you’d have that portrait as your own by whatever means were necessary.’
‘I did,’ admitted Henry, ‘and, at the time, I meant it. When I set out from here last night, I planned to spirit it away and hang it in my bedchamber. But when I got there, Christopher, when I entered the studio where Araminta had sat, when I thought how deeply wounded she would be by the disappearance of her portrait, I realised that I could simply not take it. I was overwhelmed with remorse.’
‘Ha! That must have been a novel sensation for you.’
‘Laugh at me, if you must. I deserve it. I know that my erratic way of life invites your sarcasm. But something good happened to me in that studio, something that surprised me as much as it would have surprised our dear father. I discovered that I had a conscience.’
‘It’s a pity you didn’t make the startling discovery earlier,’ said Christopher. ‘It would have stopped you committing the crime.’
‘I’m not a thief. I lack the nerve and ruthlessness.’
‘You had enough of both to break into someone else’s property. You were trespassing, Henry. That, too, is against the law. The wonder is that you got in and out without being seen by anyone.’
‘I must thank the maid for that.’
‘Matilda?’ gasped Christopher. ‘She was your accomplice?’
‘Yes,’ said Henry, ‘without even realising it. If you’ve met her, you know what a plump, unlovely, slow-witted creature she is. Matilda had never before had a gentleman heap praise upon her.’
‘So you took advantage of her.’
‘All I had to do was to pay her a few pretty compliments and she surrendered to my charm. When she explained that the family she served were away from the house, I told her to leave a window open for me so that I could visit her at night.’
‘That was cruel, Henry.’
‘I made no promises. I only said that I would try to call on her.’
‘Without ever intending to do so.’