Chapter 11
Adrian informed Samantha that he would be stepping out for a while, then grabbed his hat and gloves.
The details Murry had shared with him since his return were shocking to say the least. Henshaw had worked so hard to obtain the position he currently held.
He’d fought against the social shame of being in trade in order to win a spot for himself at the highest-ranking tables in England.
To think he’d risk all of that by involving himself in the kidnapping of a duke’s sister seemed absurd. And yet, Viscount Stanton’s youngest son had murdered several young women, including Adrian’s sister. The Marquess of Avernail’s son had brutally killed the Earl of Orendel’s daughter.
In other words, crime wasn’t limited to the lower classes or even to the sort of people one might suspect. Hell, even the well-liked Mrs. Hillford had turned out to be responsible for a nefarious kidnapping scheme.
No one could be trusted, and no suspect should be dismissed, no matter how unlikely they might seem.
“Since we’re headed to Welbeck Street,” Adrian said to Murry as they left the house, “we’ll probably get there faster if we walk.”
They set off at once, their urgent strides producing a heavy tread that accompanied them for the next five hundred yards, until they arrived outside the handsome townhouse where Henshaw resided.
Adrian climbed the front steps and gave the knocker a few loud raps. Murry remained behind him on the pavement.
It took a moment before the butler opened the door. He wore the typical dispassionate expression reserved for his profession. “Yes?”
“I apologize for the late hour,” Adrian told him, handing over his calling card, “but there’s a pressing matter I need to discuss with Mr. Henshaw. Is he at home?”
“He is,” the butler confirmed. “Whether or not he’ll meet with you is another matter entirely. If you’d like to come in, Mr. Croft, I’ll check.”
Adrian thanked him and crossed the threshold with Murry directly behind him.
“I’ll just be a moment,” the butler informed them after pressing the door shut. He promptly disappeared down a hallway.
“A bit much, don’t you think?” Murry whispered while scanning the foyer.
Adrian nodded, his own gaze falling upon a golden longcase clock. Hideous. He kept his voice as hushed as Murry’s when he told him, “Some people feel the need for extravagance.”
Neither said anything more until the butler returned. “Mr. Henshaw has asked that you be shown in, Mr. Croft.” He turned to Murry and swept one hand in the direction of a plush bench. “You may wait there, sir.”
Adrian sent Murry a nod, encouraging him to take a seat, then followed the butler toward the back of the house. Strange. It was customary to be received either in the front parlor or the study. Instead, he found himself entering the library.
The room was just as ostentatious as the foyer, made worse by the presence of two stuffed leopards that sat on either side of the fireplace.
Various rugs were laid side by side, overlapping so they concealed the floor beneath completely.
The chairs and sofas were upholstered in crimson velvet, their ornate frames covered in gold leaf.
At least the bookcases were crafted in a more classical style, though the decorative pieces put on display alongside the books were more curious than they were appealing to the eye.
“Memories from all my travels,” said the man who stood near the sideboard, his assessing gaze on Adrian. “Makes for a rather eclectic atmosphere, wouldn’t you say?”
“I couldn’t have phrased it better myself,” Adrian lied. There were, after all, more important issues to care about than Hanshaw’s distasteful décor.
“Would you like refreshments?” the butler asked Adrian. “Coffee or tea, perhaps?”
“No, thank you,” Adrian told him, his attention on the decanters that sat on the side table next to Henshaw. “Brandy will do.”
“A man of my taste,” Henshaw said with a smile, then told the butler, “That will be all for now, Peters.”
Peters left, and Henshaw proceeded to fill two glasses.
He handed one to Adrian. “I must confess I’m a little surprised at your coming here.
You and I have never had any dealings. In fact, I believe we’ve only ever engaged in one conversation with one another, and that was purely because the discussion was started by the Duke of Eldridge. ”
“In other words, you want to know what I want.”
Henshaw’s lips twitched. “I’d not have put it so bluntly, but yes, I do.”
He sipped his brandy, and Adrian did the same before turning to one of the bookcases where he proceeded to study the contents, deliberately refusing to satisfy Henshaw’s curiosity.
“In light of infrequent involvement with one another,” Henshaw said after a while, “and considering what I know about you, Mr. Croft, I can only surmise that something has happened. A new crime perhaps? For which you require information about a person I may be connected to in some way?”
Adrian angled his head, then spun back to face his host. “Your logic is sound. Maybe Bow Street should hire you as an adviser.”
Henshaw’s lips parted slightly, as though he’d not expected to be correct in his assumption. “What’s happened and how may I help?”
Adrian scrutinized Henshaw’s expression. His surprise seemed genuine, but it could just as easily be proof of excellent acting skills. Adrian drank some more brandy, savored the rich spicy flavor, the heat that spread through his chest after he swallowed.
“Are you familiar with The Veiled Lantern on Regent Street?” Adrian asked.
The slightest movement of Henshaw’s head betrayed him. Had he chosen to deny knowing the place, Adrian would have seen through the lie.
Much to his surprise, however, Henshaw did no such thing.
He frowned, then swung away from Adrian and padded toward an armchair, which he slowly sank into.
“I must confess I’m no stranger to it. After being introduced to the pleasures of smoking opium during a visit to China years ago, I sought ways in which to continue the habit after returning to England.
The Veiled Lantern is an exclusive establishment.
Upper-class, discreet, and well-maintained.
I enjoy the tranquility I’m able to find there.
Helps me relax at the end of a busy week. ”
“So you’re a regular client.”
“Admittedly so.”
Again, Henshaw’s response was not what Adrian expected. “Have you ever brought supplies home with you? To smoke here, I mean?”
Henshaw snorted. “Of course not. I have a wife and children, Croft. To expose them to such a thing would be unseemly.”
“While I’m inclined to agree, I’m not sure I believe you.”
“What the hell are you saying?” Henshaw leaned forward in his seat, a pink hue flushing his cheeks. “That I’m a liar?”
“I’ve yet to figure that out,” Adrian said, earning a furious glare. “Do you know a man named Mr. Grover?”
Henshaw’s entire face scrunched in confusion. “No.”
“You’re certain?”
“I meet a lot of people in my line of work so of course it’s possible my path has crossed with an individual who went by that name, but if that’s the case, I don’t recall.”
“Hmm…” It could be then that Henshaw was yet another victim of a stolen identity.
Or simply a name being used as a means to an end.
“According to one of the people working at The Veiled Lantern, Mr. Grover recently used your name in order to purchase supplies. Said he was in your employ and that you were going out of town on a business trip — that you would need some opium on hand during your absence.”
A heavy pause followed and then Henshaw said, “I do not know the man you speak of. If he used my name to procure supplies from The Veiled Lantern, then he did so dishonestly.”
As he had done when he’d told Alfie, the pickpocket, that he was the Earl of Marsdale.
Adrian lowered himself to the nearest chair with a heavy sigh.
With one forearm resting on one thigh, his elbow on the other, he pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to think.
This Grover person, whoever he was, seemed to be throwing important names around in order to serve his needs.
He’d known his appearance matched Edwards.
Perhaps the information he’d shared about Henshaw was true as well.
Adrian shifted his gaze to the businessman he’d come to interrogate. “Have you recently been away?”
“I…” Henshaw closed his mouth, then nodded. “I travelled to Portsmouth a little over a week ago.”
“Immediately after Grover told the people at The Veiled Lantern that you required supplies for your trip.” Adrian stared at him. “How many people did you share your schedule with in advance?”
Henshaw blinked. “My butler, my valet, and my housekeeper were told along with my family, of course. Then there’s my secretary, the managers at my warehouses here in London, and a few business associates I met with prior to my departure.
It’s possible I mentioned it to a few other servants or workers in passing.
Naturally, my coachman also knew the day before. ”
“I’d like to speak with your servants then, if I may.” When Henshaw agreed, Adrian said, “While I do, I’d appreciate you making a full list of names consisting of everyone else to whom you may have mentioned your trip, along with where I might find them.”
Each one of these people might be Grover, hiding under a different name. Or if not, then they’d surely spoken to him and mentioned Henshaw’s departure from Town.
“There’s one more thing,” Adrian said before going to speak with the servants. “I wonder if you’ve heard whispers about an exclusive auction being planned for the near future.”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“Curiosity,” Adrian replied, then went to conduct his interviews.
* * *
Samantha finished her evening meal and pushed back her chair. Dining alone wasn’t ideal, which was why she would have preferred to wait for Adrian’s return. Except he’d told her not to. There was no telling when he’d be back, and she was already getting hungry when he’d set off.