“You do surprise me. I have always thought of you as the consummate games player. As you wish.” He sits forward on the leather sofa, his excitement clear now. “Last night I attended the opening of an exhibition of paintings by a new artist by the name of Bram Cardale. Ring any distant bells?”

“The artist who lived for a time in the house you inhabit, with Richard Mangan. He was, for a short while, I recollect, romantically linked, shall we say, to Lilith Montgomery.”

“The very same.”

“I understood he left London some time before the war and the two were no longer in contact.”

“Your information is correct, but no longer current. I saw dear Bram with the Lazarus witch at the gallery, and it was plain for all to see that they are in love. So much so that they were unable to hide the fact, despite her being engaged to Louis Harcourt. I anticipate news of her breaking off that connection imminently.”

“And you think we can use this … Cardale, this painter, we can use him to persuade the Montgomery girl to finally give us what we want? She loved her brother, but a similar ploy was unsuccessful, you will recall.”

“Oh, we all recall that, my dear Stricklend. But then, you see, we had it the wrong way around. We did away with the duke in order to bring the girl to heel. I propose we turn the tables.”

Stricklend feels the first tingle of real excitement as he realizes his spy might just have hit upon possibly the only way Lilith Montgomery would reveal the Great Secret. She would not tell it to him, not even for love, after what happened with Freddie. But she might just reveal it to her lover, given the right set of circumstances. All Stricklend has to do is bring those circumstances about, and he knows he will savor every minute of doing so.

Chapter 26

26.

The rose garden in Regent’s Park looks particularly beautiful in the early summer sunshine. It is really too soon for the roses to be at their best, but there are buds aplenty, and sufficient blooms for the warm air to be filled with their sweet scent. Louis and I sit, not quite touching, on a green iron bench among the flower beds. Children have been brought out to play, and dash along the paths in their pretty spring clothes. A family of doves is busy nesting in the dovecote, cooing softly, flying hither and thither collecting moss to line their nests.

There is a tangible sadness emanating from Louis. I have given him back the engagement ring and he turns it over and over in his hand. The solitaire diamond flares in the sunshine. When at last he speaks his voice is low and has lost its usual brightness.