A Little Bit Sinful (13 page)

…

Everything Clarissa had told him last night had given him pause. After he’d left her bed he’d gone down to his study and written out a handful of notes, sending out queries to check on a few things. This morning he’d already heard back from two of them. It would seem the little bit Clarissa had discovered certainly changed everything in regards to his search for his mother’s identity.

The woman whom had raised him, the one he’d loved and thought was his mother until that fateful day when she’d sat him at the table and told him everything. Or what he’d thought was everything. As it turns out, he wasn’t quite certain of anything she’d told him. It was funny, though, he felt no anger towards her, no bitterness. She’d been a good woman, no doubt having her hand forced by the men with power who stood invisible behind her.

Eloise had told him that his parents had had a brief affair in Paris and that his mother had been unable to take care of him.

He’d spent all of his resources investigating a time when his father had supposedly been in Paris, a time when his parents could have met and had their brief affair. And then Clarissa had brought to his attention something he’d never quite considered. What if his parents had met right there in London? If his mother had been there, that changed everything.

So far he’d confirmed that there had, in fact, been a large group of French nobles who had come to London for refuge during the last revolution. And the timing fit perfectly for his birth. It certainly explained why he’d been raised here in England rather than in France. He’d also discovered that Manchester House was still opened and acting as a hotel, though the ownership had changed.

Now he had to decide if he wanted to pursue this particular thread. He’d followed every other lead he’d ever come across and they had all led to nothing, simply one dead-end after another. But this, this was so very different than anything he’d ever looked into, which made him wonder if it wasn’t the truth.

Clarissa poked her head in the doorway of his study. “Are you working?”

He closed the letter he’d just read. “Did you eat breakfast?”

She nodded. “Your cook is wonderful. Did you steal him away from some unsuspecting lord as you did for Rodale’s?”

He grinned. She was making an effort, discussing neutral ground as a peace offering. “I did not. She’s actually Mr. Clipps’s wife’s sister. And you’re right, she is a very good cook.”

Clarissa came in and sat opposite his desk. “Justin, I did not mean to be insensitive about your mother. I merely wanted to help.”

He wanted to ask her again why, why she was so intent on helping him. She’d given him a reason last night, but he knew there was more to it. But he didn’t want to hear her say the words or to lie and say something else. He knew that if she could prove his mother was of noble birth that it would somehow make it right in her eyes that she’d had to marry him. It would make him more palatable to her. “I looked into your claims,” he said.

Her brows rose in surprise. “Already? And what did you discover?”

“Everything you said was correct. At least about the group of nobles staying in London.” He tilted his head. “Now whether or not my mother was one of the women that was here, that I do not know.”

“But you intend to find out?”

He nodded. “I do.” It would seem he’d made his decision. He would pursue this until the end.

“How?”

She wanted to help him, he could see it in her eyes, the way she chewed at her bottom lip. If finding out the truth about his mother would somehow reconcile for her the fact that she’d married a bastard, he would help her. He only hoped that what they found out didn’t make matters worse. Justin stood, braced his palms on his desk. “A visit to Manchester House.”

“I wish to accompany you on that visit,” she said.

“I suspected you might.”

She frowned. “And?”

“There’s no reason for you to go.”

“I want to help. I found this particular clue, it would seem I’ve earned a place at your side for this.”

Earned a place at his side. The words warmed his insides like a much needed meal after a long day’s journey. He exhaled slowly. “You may come along, on one condition.”

“Anything,” she said. She came to her feet, met his gaze.

“When we discover that my mother was nothing more than a French commoner promise me you won’t be disappointed.”

“Why would I be disappointed?”

“I require a promise.”

“Very well, I promise. When will be leaving?” she asked.

“After luncheon.”

She turned to leave, then paused. “Oh, Ella is joining us for luncheon today. Could she accompany us to Manchester House?”

“Why?”

“She has helped me find the information thus far. It was her mother that gave me the first clue. It seems only fitting that she…never mind, it is not of importance.”

“Yes, she can go.” If the girl would offer a buffer should they discover less than pleasant news about his mother, then he would welcome her company.

…

Ella smiled at the two of them in the carriage. The good thing about having someone else in the carriage with them though is that they did not have to discuss last night and the fact that he’d left her bed. When they’d married, he’d fully intended for them to spend every night in the same bed. But last night he’d had to leave, hadn’t been able to face her in light of the things she’d said about his mother.

“This shall be an adventure,” Ella said cheerfully.

“I want it to be productive,” Justin said.

She gave him a serious nod. “Indeed, Sir.”

Clarissa smiled. “Were it not for Ella’s mother, I’m not certain we would have stumbled upon this clue,” she said again, this time for Ella’s benefit.

“My mother knows nearly everyone in town,” Ella said. “I’ve asked her to remember if she saw any of the visiting women with your father.” She shrugged. “But that was the Season my father started courting her and she said she was addle-brained for months.”

She was endearing this one, Justin could see why Clarissa was her friend. She was genuine and happy, a good sort to be around when you tended to take matters in life too seriously. “I thank you for your assistance,” Justin said. “I have been searching for my mother’s identity for many years.”

“I’d wager you never thought your two accomplices would be the likes of us,” Ella said with a giggle.

Clarissa clicked her tongue. “It is not proper for a lady to make wagers, Ella.” Then she grinned. “Well, except for that one lady.” She met Justin’s gaze.

“Who?” Ella asked.

Clarissa shook her head. “I cannot say. It would not be the thing. Rodale’s is nothing if not discreet.”

Justin smiled.

Ella twisted her mouth and hit her hands upon her lap. “Oh you two and your secrets. No fun at all.”

Justin chuckled. “To answer your question, Lady Ella, no, I never expected to have two ladies as my accomplices.” The carriage rolled to a stop and he assisted both women down from the rig. “I would appreciate the two of you allowing me to do the talking.”

Clarissa nodded. They climbed the steps to Manchester House. It was an attractive hotel, converted from a rather large corner townhome. The lobby greeted them with light blues and yellows, fabrics and wallpaper that was probably a few years past its prime, but still in good condition.

He motioned to the two of them to sit in some of the cushioned chairs in the middle while he went to speak to the man standing behind the counter. It was not an overly large lobby so Justin felt certain everyone in the room would be able to hear his request, but nothing could be made of that.

“Yes, how may I help you, my lord?” the man asked.

“Simply a mister. I should like to speak with you about records of past guests.”

The man retrieved a book from beneath the counter and set it in front of Justin. “This contains the last year.”

“No, this would have been from a long while ago. 1847 or 1848,” he said.

The man shifted his weight. “Yes, well, that would be when my cousin owned this property.” He returned the book to under the counter.

“Do you still have the records, Sir?” Justin asked.

The man waved his hand, shaking his head. “No, no, that would be far too much trouble and I am quite busy,” he said.

Clarissa looked around the empty lobby. She stepped forward. “Yes, well, since you are so busy, might we look for you? You could simply point us in the right direction.”

The man stood there, not saying anything for several breaths. “No, you see, I meant that it would be too difficult because I do not have those records. I believe all of her records went with her when she gave this hotel to me.” His eyes looked behind Justin and then down at the counter. “I don’t believe I can help you.”

“You do not have such records here in a storage room?” Justin asked. Justin had agreements with a handful of nice hotels in the city. They would send their patrons to his gaming hell and he would always recommend their establishments for visiting guests. He knew how hotels were run, knew that most worth their salt kept records of their guests because they wanted repeat customers.

“No, I do not.”

Justin had every record ever documented at Rodale’s. Granted they’d been open less than ten years, still, one never knew if that information would be needed in the future. There was something in the man’s mannerisms that bothered Justin. He’d wager the man was hiding something.

“Thank you for your time,” he said, then he turned on his heel and retrieved the women.

Clarissa walked passed him back up to the desk. “Pardon me, Sir,” she said. “Are you telling me that you did not keep any of the records of previous guests?”

His lips pinched. “No, that is what I was telling your, friend,” he said deliberately, “and now what I am telling you.”

“Well, that simply makes no sense at all.”

“I believe I am the hotelier, not you, madam,” he said. “Now good day to all of you.”

The three of them did not speak until they were once again encased in the carriage.

“He was obviously lying,” Clarissa said boldly.

“I believe so too,” Justin said.

“One way to find out,” Ella said.

“And that is?” Justin asked.

“Lady Manchester, his cousin, it was her hotel. If she has the records, she would certainly allow you look at them,” Ella said, then she frowned. “I’m afraid she suffers from dementia though, so you’ll have to hope to catch her on a good day.”

“Perhaps today will be that good day,” Justin said. He knocked on the carriage ceiling and they stopped. He stepped out, gave the driver the address Ella rattled off for Lady Manchester’s and then they were off again.

“I have met Lady Manchester before,” Ella said. “So I suppose I shall be the one to introduce the two of you. I do hope she finds that good enough.”

“It will have to be. We need to speak with her,” Clarissa said.

Not a quarter of an hour later the three of them waited in Lady Manchester’s parlor. Unlike the hotel bearing her name, this room spoke of more immediate wealth. Justin sat in the only wooden, non-upholstered chair in the room while his wife huddled closely next to her friend on the settee. When the door opened, the three of them stood.

The lady walked in without the assistance of anyone and seemed completely capable, but a woman followed closely behind her. Once Lady Manchester sat, the other woman promptly wrapped her lap in a blanket, then went to stand behind the woman’s chair.

“It’s so rare that I get visitors these days,” Lady Manchester said.

“Lady Manchester, I’m not certain if you remember me, I’m Ella Atkins. I believe you know my mother, Lady Weaver. These are two of my friends, Mr. and Mrs. Justin Rodale. They’d like to ask you a few questions.”

The woman nodded, then looked up to see her guests. Her breath caught when she looked at Justin. “Gracious, you look just like her,” she said.

“Who?”

“Simone,” she said, then shook her head. “I cannot remember the girl’s full name.”

Simone.
Was his mother’s name Simone?

“We’d like to ask you a few questions about Manchester House,” he said.

“Thieving bastard took that property right from under my nose, he did,” Lady Manchester said with a frown. The woman behind her put a hand on her ladyship’s shoulder. “Don’t pat me to calm me, Sally, I speak the truth.” She shooed away the woman’s hand.

“Your cousin?” Clarissa asked.

“Yes, nasty little man. I bequeathed the entire hotel to my niece, Charlotte, and her husband, but somehow Winston got it put in his name.” She shook her head. “I’ll never understand it.”

“But you owned it and ran it in the 40s?”

She met his gaze again and nodded. “Yes. I simply cannot get over how much you favor Simone.”

“Did you keep records of your guests during that time?”

“Primarily the time when you had all the families from France stay with you during the Season,” Clarissa added.

“Of course, I kept impeccable records,” Lady Manchester said. “My father always told me that you never put anything of importance in the rubbish.”

“Do you have them?” Clarissa asked. “The records?”

“Of course not, they’re at the hotel. In the basement, precisely right where I left them. A record of every guest and every room they stayed in as well as every pence they spent. I kept meticulous records.”

“When we visited there earlier today, your cousin claimed that you had taken all the records with you,” Clarissa said.

“Why would I do a silly thing like that?” She pointed a crooked finger at Clarissa. “That man is nothing but a lying fool. Unless he’s put everything in the rubbish, then it should all still be there.”

“This Simone you speak of,” Justin said. “Did you know her well?”

Lady Manchester smiled warmly. “I did, she was a wonderful girl, so full of life and love.”

“Did she find love here?”

“She did, but it was not to be. Her family had already arranged a marriage between her and a wealthy Frenchman. She left here quite heartbroken,” Lady Manchester said. A wistfulness filled her expression. “She was so very pretty.” She looked up at Justin. “You look like her, you know.”