Читаем A Dangerous Fortune (1994) полностью

"Ah." Micky hesitated. When Hugh did not invite him to take a seat he said: "May I join you?" and sat down without waiting for a reply. In a lower voice he said: "Would you happen to know whether I've done anything to offend him?"

Hugh had looked thoughtful for a moment, then said: "I can't think of any reason why I shouldn't tell you. Edward has discovered that you killed Peter Middleton, and you've been lying to him about it for twenty-four years."

Micky almost jumped out of his chair. How the devil had that come out? He almost asked the question, then remembered he could not without admitting his guilt. Instead he feigned anger and stood up abruptly. "I shall forget you ever said that," he said, and he left the room.

It took him only a few moments to realize that he was in no more danger from the police than he had ever been. No one could prove what he had done and it had all happened so long ago that there would be no point in reopening the investigation. The real danger he faced was that Edward would refuse to raise the two million pounds Papa needed.

He had to win Edward's forgiveness. And to do that he had to see him.

That night he could do nothing, for he was engaged to go to a diplomatic reception at the French embassy and a supper party with some Conservative members of Parliament. But the next day he went to Nellie's at lunchtime, woke April up, and persuaded her to send Edward a note, promising him "something special" if he would come to the brothel that night.

Micky took April's best room and booked Edward's current favorite, Henrietta, a slim girl with short dark hair. He instructed her to dress in a man's evening clothes with a top hat, an outfit Edward found sexy.

By half-past nine in the evening he was waiting for Edward. The room had a huge four-poster bed, two sofas, a big ornate fireplace, the usual washstand, and a series of vividly obscene paintings set in a mortuary, showing the slavering attendant performing various sexual acts on the pale corpse of a beautiful young girl. Micky reclined on a velvet sofa, wearing nothing but a silk robe, sipping brandy, with Henrietta beside him.

She quickly got bored. "Do you like these pictures?" she asked him.