India Black and the Rajah's Ruby

Author:Carol K. Carr [Carr, Carol K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Historical
Publisher: Berkley
Published: 2012-12-31T00:00:00+00:00

A few weeks after I returned to London, Mother Moore knocked on my bedroom door and thrust it open without waiting for my permission. She always does that, being of the opinion that whores are not entitled to any privacy, a sound policy which I have followed at my own house.

“Mr. Barrett is here,” she announced.

This was astonishing news. I’d covered Philip’s absence from Mother Moore’s brothel with the invention of a trip abroad for commercial purposes. I hadn’t expected the bloke to turn up here again, not after slinking away from White’s house in the middle of the night, leaving yours truly to face the music. My first inclination was to refuse to see him. Then I thought I might go downstairs just for the pleasure of planting my foot in his arse. But curiosity got the better of me, as it usually does, and I smartened myself up and trundled down the steps just to hear what the chap had to say for himself.

He was pacing a hole in the parlour floor, chewing his lip, when I walked in. Lord, but he was handsome when he was fretful.

“Hello, Philip.”

He gave a weak and anxious smile. “At least you’re still speaking to me. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had told me to go away and never come back here. I owe you an apology, India.”

“Damned right you do.”

He held out a hand, which I did not take. After a moment, he let it fall to his side. “Will you at least sit down with me and let me explain what happened?”

I sat down with a great show of reluctance, though I was dying to hear Philip’s story. I had a pretty good idea of what had transpired, but I was anxious to see if I’d been correct.

He joined me on the sofa, looking apprehensive. “I suppose I should start from the beginning.” He plucked at the crease in his trouser leg.

“Go on,” I said.

He swallowed. “Well, the truth is that I am not a partner in a commercial firm. The closest I’ve come to dabbling in commerce is cracking the odd bank safe from time to time.”

“I see.”

He took my hand and this time I did not protest. “Of course I don’t go around babbling that to all and sundry. When I met you, I just preserved the fiction. It’s easier that way, inhabiting one role with everyone you know. Less chance you’ll slip up and be caught.” He caressed the palm of my hand with his fingertips. “It’s a lonely life, India, living a lie, hiding the truth from people. You grow so accustomed to keeping people at arm’s length that you fail to recognize a kindred soul.” He gazed at me earnestly. Damnation, but he was good at this.

“I should have told you the truth when we met,” he said.

“I don’t see why you should. The truth is a valuable commodity. You never know when someone might use it to your disadvantage.”

“You wouldn’t have.”

Poor man. If he believed that, he was a terrible judge of character.

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