‘None could hold a candle to you,’ he said, caressing her thigh as he sat on the bed. ‘All women are invisible beside you. It was the first thing I noticed at the theatre. You were the unrivalled cynosure. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.’
‘Yet you will happily do so this evening.’
‘I do it with the utmost reluctance, my darling. And once my business has been discharged, I will get here as soon as is humanly possible.’
‘How do you know I will let you in?’
‘Keep me outside and I’ll howl like a dog all night. Is that what you would prefer?’ he teased, nestling against her. ‘Would you rather have me out there in the dark or in here beside you?’
She allowed him to kiss her hand. ‘I’ll think about it.’
They were in the house that had been rented for her during the period when she was engaged to perform at the theatre. Hannah Granville had conquered London. Audiences had been overwhelmed by her beauty and by the irresistible talent that accompanied it. Those who’d seen her shine as Belvidera realised that any of the great female roles were within her scope. She was seen as having taken up the mantle that Sarah Siddons had put aside a few years earlier and was expected to enjoy an equally illustrious career. Paul Skillen was no mean actor himself and he’d employed his talents judiciously. Having contrived an introduction to her, he’d used his charm to secure Hannah’s interest, his declaration of love to bring her within reach and his patent virility to excite her. There was also a sense of danger about him that none of her other admirers could offer.
‘Where are you going this evening?’ she demanded.
‘I told you – I have duties to perform.’
‘What kind of duties?’
He waved a hand. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘It does to me, Paul. I want to know where you’re going and who you are intending to see in place of me.’
‘It’s not in place of you, Hannah. Work, however, must come before pleasure.’
‘What sort of work?’
‘We have to protect a property in Mayfair.’
‘We?’ she echoed, sitting up. ‘Who is this “we” you talk about?’
‘I was referring to my brother and myself.’
‘You never told me that you had a brother.’
‘Well, I do,’ he said. ‘His name is Peter.’
‘Am I to meet him?’
‘There’s no need for that.’
‘Why not – are you ashamed of me? Are you afraid that your brother will look askance at me?’
He grinned. ‘No man would ever look askance at you, Hannah.’
‘What sort of a person is Peter?’
‘He’s very similar to me in some ways and the complete opposite in others. On balance, I’m not at all sure that you’d like my brother.’
‘Is he handsome?’
‘Peter’s as handsome as me, certainly.’
‘Is he tall, manly and courteous?’
‘He’s all of those things, my love.’
‘Then I should meet him. He sounds like a paragon of virtue.’
‘That’s his weakness,’ said Paul with a smile. ‘He’s brimming with virtue. It glows inside him. He’d never meet your requirements, my darling. For a lady like you, he has one glaring defect.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘He’s irrecoverably married.’
Charlotte Skillen had seen her husband leave on a number of perilous assignments and, even though he’d always returned safely, she’d never learnt to control her fears. In the course of his work, he’d picked up a succession of cuts, gashes, bruises, grazes, sprains, dislocations and black eyes, as well as a few more serious wounds. Charlotte worried that he and his brother took unnecessary risks. Sooner or later, she felt, one or both of them would be killed. As she saw him off, she put her arms around him.
‘You will be careful this evening, won’t you?’ she implored.
‘I’m always careful.’
‘That’s not true, Peter. You have a rash streak in you sometimes.’
He laughed. ‘I think you’re confusing me with Paul.’
‘I’m the one person who’d never make that mistake.’
‘Take that worried look off your face,’ he said, pulling her close. ‘We’ll be in no jeopardy this time. I won’t even need to go armed.’
‘All I want is for my husband to come home to me in one piece.’
‘I can guarantee it.’ He planted a kiss on her lips before detaching himself from the embrace. ‘To be quite frank, what happens this evening concerns me far less than the inquiry in which I’m also engaged. It’s very puzzling. A woman who is content to do all the drudgery at the Home Office unaccountably disappears. Where on earth can she be?’