The Repentant Rake (30 page)

    'I
assumed that you would be interested to take a look at the house where he had
lived and the family he had talked so much about. You must have been curious.'

    Her
tone softened. 'I was and I'm sorry that I misunderstood you. As it happens,
Arthur and I did take the trouble to ride out to the estate. It's a beautiful
house but I can see why Gabriel ran away from it. There's nothing to look at
but sheep.'

    'I
don't believe that it was the sheep who drove him away.'

    'No,
it was his father. You have a troublesome client, Mr Redmayne.'

    'I
can cope with him, Miss Hemmings.'

    'I
think that you can cope with anything,' she said with a warm smile.

    The
glint came into her eye again and it made him slightly uncomfortable. There was
a directness about Celia Hemmings that he found both attractive and disturbing.
He moved on quickly to the questions that took him there in the first place.

    'You
and Gabriel were very close,' he began.

    'Intermittently,'
she said. 'I loved him dearly but we never lived together for any length of
time. Gabriel was too shy of commitment.'

    'Did
he discuss his writing with you?'

    'From
time to time. He read a few of his poems to me once.'

    'What
about his diary?'

    She looked
blank. 'Diary?'

    'Were
you aware that Gabriel was keeping a diary?'

    'No,
Mr Redmayne.'

    'Did
you not see him making entries?'

    'This
is the first that I've heard about it,' she said. 'What sort of diary was it?'

    'A
revealing one, by all accounts. He recorded his exploits in full.'

    Celia
grew angry. 'Are you telling me that / am mentioned in this diary? That would
be disloyal as well as disgusting. It would be unforgivable. No,' she decided,
calming down at once, 'Gabriel would never do that to me. I trust him.'

    'So
did other people,' he pointed out. 'Henry was one of them. But that did not
stop him being mocked in the pages of the diary.'

    'Mocked?'

    'Along
with many others in his circle,'

    'Have
you seen this diary?'

    'No,
Miss Hemmings. I did not even know that it existed until it was stolen from his
house in Knightrider Street. It's my belief that his diary was responsible for
his death. Someone killed him in order to get their hands on it.'

    'But
why?'

    'Because
it contains unlimited possibilities of blackmail.'

    Celia
Hemmings was shocked. Rising to her feet, she walked around the room in thought
before coming back to stand close to Christopher. She looked down at him.

    'Are
you saying that someone may try to blackmail me?'

    'I
think it highly unlikely.'

    'That's
a relief!'

    'What
surprises me is that you had no knowledge of the diary.'

    'Gabriel
was very secretive about his work, Mr Redmayne. I was only allowed to see what
he was prepared to show me. To be candid, it has come as something of a
thunderbolt.' She resumed her seat. 'I can imagine the kinds of things that
Gabriel put in that diary. He had a malicious pen at times.'

    'Is
there anyone else who might have known that he was keeping it?'

    'Anyone
else?'

    'Yes,
Miss Hemmings,' he said. 'The person who killed him knew exactly where to find
the diary and what it would contain. Gabriel must have told
somebody.''

    'Well,
it was not me.'

    'Then
who might it have been?'

    Her
brow furrowed. 'I can think of only one person.'

    'Who
is that?'

    'Arthur
Lunn,' she said. 'Gabriel lodged at his house when he first came to London.
They went everywhere together at first. Arthur is definitely no killer,' she
affirmed 'but I have to admit this. If anyone knew about that diary, it was
him.'

    Arthur
Lunn strode into the room and clapped Henry familiarly on the shoulder.

    'Get
dressed, Henry,' he announced. 'You are dining at Long's with me.'

    'I've
no wish to go out.'

    'What's
wrong with you, man?'

    'Until
an hour ago, I was twisting and turning on a bed of pain. When I felt better I
ventured downstairs, but I gave express instructions that nobody was to disturb
me.'

    'Instructions
do not apply to friends like me.'

    Henry
groaned inwardly. Attired in a garish silk dressing gown, he was reclining in a
chair in his parlour when Lunn descended on him. In his present condition, he
did not wish to see anybody, least of all an ebullient crony in all his finery.
The mourning clothes worn by Lunn at the funeral had been discarded in favour
of apparel that made Henry's dressing gown look dull by comparison. Lunn beamed
down at the recluse.

    'Where
have you
been,
Henry?' he demanded.

    'Indisposed.'

    'Oh,
is that the reason? You've been taking the cure.'

    'No,
Arthur. This is not a disease of the body.'

    'It
comes to us all at times, no matter how careful we are in our choice of
ladies.'

    'I do
not
have the pox!'

    'Then
what is the problem?'

    'I've
had… things on my mind,' explained Henry.

    'You
always have things on your mind,' said Lunn with a chuckle. 'The same things
that occupy my waking thoughts. Good wine, rich food and warm women - with a
game or two of cards thrown in for good measure. Come, sir,' he insisted,
taking hold of Henry's arm. 'Dine with me.'

    'I
intend to eat at home today.'

    'Then
I'll come for you this evening instead,' decided Lunn, releasing him. 'We will
surrender body and soul to a night of sheer abandon.'

    'Go without
me, Arthur.'

    'Why,
man?'

    'Because
I am not inclined to pleasure.'

    Lunn
stared quizzically at him. 'Are you telling me that you've grown impotent?'

    'No!'
yelled Henry indignantly.

    'Is
that your problem? No more standing of the yard?'

    'It
is nothing to do with that.'

    'Prove
it by coming to Mrs Curtis with me.'

    'No,
Arthur. I am not in the vein.'

    'Then
at least sit at the card table with me for an hour.'

    'An
hour there and I am doomed for the whole night. Listen,' said Henry, rising to
his feet, 'I would be delighted to join you at any other time but not tonight,
Arthur. As you see, I'm dressed for bed and will retire there after dinner.'

    Lunn
was scandalised. '
Alone?'

    'Just
me and my dark thoughts.'

    'What
has happened to everybody? Marcus is the same. When I called on him just now,
he refused to join me this evening as well. Why?' he wondered spreading his
arms. 'It surely cannot be that you have become sated with pleasure. You and
Marcus can keep going all night.'

    'And
we will again,' predicted Henry. 'Very soon.'

    Lunn
strutted around the room in consternation, at a loss to understand why two of
his closest friends were shunning the delights of the town. When he came back
to Henry, he pointed an accusatory finger at him.

    'You
are to stay in bed all afternoon?'

    'All
day, I expect,' said Henry.

    'Then
I have plumbed your secret,' claimed Lunn with a snigger. 'Who is she, Henry?
You have someone tucked away in your bedchamber, I'm sure of it. Do I know her?
She must be a nimble filly if she can keep you occupied all day.'

    'There
is nobody else here, Arthur!'

    'Do
you swear that?'

    'On
my father's Bible,' vowed Henry, 'and he is the Dean of Gloucester!'

    'And
you'll not come out with me? Even if I bring a coach to pick you up and promise
to drop you off again at your doorstep? Think, man,' he urged. 'What better
cure for your illness than a bracing game of cards with friends? You only need
stay an hour. What harm can there be in that'

    Henry
was tempted. The idea that he would be conveyed to and fro in Lunn's coach was
very enticing and his enforced exile was taxing his patience. There was another
reason that made him consider the offer favourably. His brother was acting as an
intercessor between Sir Marcus Kemp and the blackmailer. It might even be that
Christopher had apprehended the man by now. At the very least, he would have
handed over a thousand guineas and appeased him. With money from one victim in
his pocket, the blackmailer might be less likely to exert pressure on Henry.
The cloud above Henry's head lifted somewhat and he did miss his old haunts.

    'What
do you say, Henry?' pressed Lunn. 'Will you come with me?'

    'Yes,
Arthur. Pick me up from here this evening.'

    Sir
Marcus Kemp was frothing with impatience. He was offhand with his wife, sharp
with his children and almost vicious with his servants. Everyone else in the
house chose to keep out of his way. By the time Christopher Redmayne finally
arrived, Kemp was in a foul temper. Pulling him into the dining room, he glared
at his visitor.

    'Where
have you been, man?' he demanded.

    'To
Covent Garden,' said Christopher.

    'It
is no more than ten minutes' walk away. Why the appalling delay?'

    'I
was made to wait outside the church.'

    'But
he did come in the end?'

    'No,
Sir Marcus.'

    Kemp
spluttered. 'No? I am still in danger?'

    'I
hope not,' said Christopher. 'I did not deal with the blackmailer himself. He
sent a boy to relieve me of the purse. As you requested I handed it over.'

    He
gave Kemp a shortened version of events, omitting any reference to Jonathan
Bale and the failed plan to ensnare the blackmailer. The visit to Celia Hemmings
was described as a chance meeting in the square. Kemp slowly relaxed. His
fears, he decided, had been groundless. He even rose to a hollow laugh.

    'So
that is it,' he declared. 'I am free.'

    'With
luck, Sir Marcus.'

    'He
has what he wants. It is only fair that I get something in return.'

    'You
presume too much on the blackmailer's notion of fairness.'

    'I
feel as if I've been released from a prison!' He looked at Christopher. 'I must
thank you for your part in all this, Mr Redmayne. When you first came here I
was angry that you even knew about my situation, yet you have been my
salvation, / would never have dared to hand over that money in Covent Garden,'
he confessed, 'and I could hardly send one of my servants. You saved me, Mr
Redmayne.'

    'I am
hoping to save my brother as well, Sir Marcus.'

    'Is
he going to pay up?'

    'No,'
said Christopher, 'he is following a different course of action. But while I am
here,' he went on, seeing an opportunity to gather information, 'I wonder if you
could tell me something about Arthur Lunn.'

    'Arthur?
Why? Has he had blackmail demands as well?'

    'Not
that I know of, Sir Marcus.'

    'I
think it improbable,' said Kemp. 'He was here just over an hour ago, pressing
me to join him for dinner. Since I was waiting for your news, I would not stir
from the house so I sent him on his way.'

    'Is
it true that Gabriel Cheever once lodged at his house?'