Silk and Shadows(32)

The study was comfortably furnished in a masculine style, with oak paneling and leather-covered chairs. Slade had been working as he waited, for the room was well lit and the desk strewn with papers. As he closed the door behind them, Peregrine said, "Mr. Slade, meet Miss Miller."

Jenny gave him a startled glance. "No one's ever called me Miss Miller before."

"You will become accustomed to it," Benjamin said. His gray eyes widened as he saw his new houseguest in the light. Peregrine's message had prepared him for Jenny's presence, but not for her ethereal beauty. After a moment he remembered his manners. Gesturing to a pot warming over a spirit lamp, he asked, "Would you like some tea, Miss Miller?"

When she nodded, he poured her a cup as if she were a duchess. "If you are hungry, have some cakes. Or if you would like something more, I can see what's in the kitchen."

"Oh, no thank you, Mr. Slade, this will do very well," she said nervously as she sat down and stirred her tea.

Peregrine watched the ritual with amusement. The British used tea to renew inner strength the same way other societies used God. Apparently tea was as effective as religion, for Jenny's strained white face was taking on color as her natural resilience reasserted itself.

"I'll help myself to something stronger if you don't object, Benjamin," he remarked. With his host's nod of permission, he poured himself a small glass of brandy. Taking a seat, he continued, "I didn't mention it in my note, but the man you are investigating is the one who introduced me to the house where Jenny was working."

He pulled a folded paper from the inner pocket of his coat. "Here are several other establishments for you to look into. Addresses, specialties, the names the madams use. Jenny was in the house at the top of the list."

The lawyer sat down and poured tea for himself. "I thought there must be some connection between the investigation and your finding Miss Miller." Cold anger showed on his face as he scanned the page, and under his breath he muttered, "Despicable."

"Merely merchants catering to sins as old as time," Peregrine said cynically. After a swallow of brandy, he added, "It would be very interesting to know if Mrs. Kent is the true owner of that house."

"She isn't," Jenny said through a mouthful of cake.

Both men's heads turned toward the girl. Peregrine asked, "You know who the real owner is?"

She swallowed the last of the cake. "Aye, a rich bloke, the sort who acts like he wouldn't know what a whore was if he found her in his teacup."

Peregrine glanced at Slade and saw that the lawyer shared his excitement. Perhaps a vital witness had dropped into their hands. "Can you describe him more fully?"

"He's maybe fifty, but takes care of himself. Light brown hair, so gray doesn't show in it much." She glanced from one man to the other. "About midway in height between you and Mr. Slade, not fat but well fed."

"You'd recognize him again if you saw him?"

Her delicate features hardened, and she did not look the least childlike. "I'd recognize him all right," she said softly. "He was the first man who ever took me, and he wasn't very gentle about it. Even though he preferred real virgins, he came to me regularly as well. He was one of the nasty ones."

"How do you know this man is the owner, not a customer?" This time it was Slade who asked.

"I used to hear things around the house," she said vaguely.

Peregrine suspected that the girl had become an expert at sneaking and eavesdropping. It was a means of survival he understood perfectly. "Do you remember what was said?"

"Couple of times I heard him talking to Mrs. Kent about the amount of money the house was bringing in. Once it wasn't enough, and he was sort of threatening her, polite-like, saying maybe she was keeping too much for herself. Made my skin crawl." Then, with satisfaction, she added, "Must've made her skin crawl, too, because she was kind of quiet for the next few days."

"Do you know the man's name?" Peregrine asked.

She shook her head. "Not his real name. He made Mrs. Kent and me and the other girls call him 'Master.'"

The only thing that kept Peregrine from giving an exultant war whoop was the likelihood that the neighbors would summon a constable. He had thought it was a mild impulse of charity that had led him to offer aid to Jenny Miller, but a much deeper instinct must have prompted him. "There is a chance that someday the owner will be arrested for his crimes. If that happens, would you be able to identify him, perhaps testify in court? If you do, I will guarantee that neither he nor Mrs. Kent will harm you."

Jenny's light blue eyes glowed. "Even if you didn't protect me, I'd do it. I'll do anything to hurt that bastard! He's the sort who'd rather die than have people know what he's really like, so a trial would be worse than a flogging." She gave a wicked laugh. "And I can identify him right enough. I can give a description that will make a judge blush."