Page 88 of Not a Fine Gentleman

“Late, but he’s not there every night, mind you.” Martin glanced at Gibbs again. “Nor am I.”

“I understand.” Connor said. “Can you describe Old Dan?”

Martin stumbled through a description from which Connor gathered the man was small of stature and of slight build and had scars on his cheeks from the pox or a bad case of adolescent spots. He was also missing several of his bottom teeth.

Connor nodded. “Might I convince you to allow me to buy you a few drinks tonight...late? Perhaps your friend Dan will come, and you can introduce me to him.”

Martin glanced at the butler to receive permission.

The butler met Connor’s gaze, frowned, and made a dismissive wave. “I tell you; you’re barking up the wrong tree. It was his gorgon of a wife. Everyone knows it.”

Connor said smoothly, “We’ll let the magistrate be the judge of that, shall we?”

The butler grumbled something unintelligible and glowered at the footman. “Be sure your duties are complete before you leave.”

“Of course,” Martin said cheerfully.

Connor grappled with the incongruity of the servants’ opinion of their mistress. “Just curious… do all of you share Gibbs’ opinion of your lady?”

Almost all shook their heads, except a pretty parlormaid who nodded. If memory served, she was one of Hennessy’s lovers. Gibbs had been with the family since before Hennessy’s birth, so his loyalty may have blinded him to his lord’s faults; naturally, he’d blame marital problems on the wife instead of his master.

“Do any of you know anything about diamond mines? Even a rumor?” When they all shook their heads, he added, “Snuffboxes?”

A chambermaid spoke up. “I knocked over a snuffbox once, and a bunch of little pebbles fell out.” She winced. “Lord Hennessy was very angry even though I hurried and put them all back.”

“What did he do then?” Connor asked.

“He told me to keep mum about them and put the snuffbox filled with the pebbles into his coat pocket.”

Little pebbles in a snuffbox. Could they have been rough, uncut diamonds?

Perhaps Meg knew something about diamonds or mines. He had hours before he planned to visit the pub and find Ol’ Dan, so now was as good a time as any.

After thanking the servants for their help, he returned to Tarrington House in Pall Mall. Serenaded by the heavenly strains of a harp, Lord Tarrington’s butler led him inside the drawing room and announced, “Mr. Connor Jackson to see you, Lady Margaret.”

Margaret looked up, and she smiled. Connor almost failed to stifle his answering delight. The room took on a clear brightness, and every bird in the garden outside the open window seemed to choose that moment to break into song.

She tilted her harp away from her until it rested on its base, and stood. “Come in.”

Connor hovered in the doorway. “You play the harp?”

Margaret let out a self-conscious laugh. “I was once considered quite accomplished, but I fear I’m a bit out of practice.” She crossed the room to perch on the edge of a settee and gestured to the cushion next to her. “Do sit. Shall I ring for tea?”

“No, thank you.” He did, however, cross the room and join her on the settee.

She gazed at him with a remarkably tender expression. “Am I foolish to hope that this is a social call?”

He gave her an apologetic smile, not bothering to point out the impossibility of such an act.

“Very well, then. What can I do for you?”

There were so many ways he wanted to answer that question. Ahem. “Do you remember Hennessy ever mentioning diamond mines?”

She turned thoughtful. “He did mention something about the cost of diamonds a few days before his death. I assumed he had purchased a diamond bracelet or some bauble for one of his trollops.” She let her derision color her words.

“Nothing about diamonds in connection to Mr. Finch?”

She shook her head. “Mr. Finch and Hennessy were fast friends, but I know very little about their topics of discussion. Hennessy and I didn’t converse frequently, you know.”