Whilst Robert absorbed every page of the private investigator’s report, taking his time, digesting everything, Adrian read the Morning Chronicle.
Finally, Robert closed the last folder and, looking across at Adrian on the sofa, he said, ‘There’s enough evidence here for me to divorce her.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t imagine what she sees in this man. He looks like a non-entity, a nobody, Adrian.’
‘You said it yourself earlier, Robert. It’s the power.’ He grinned mischievously. ‘He probably has hidden charms, as they say of men or women without good looks. Perhaps he’s great in bed.’
‘Perhaps,’ Robert said, and opened a drawer in his desk, locked the folders in it, and stood up. ‘I think lunch must be ready. We’re having our schoolboy favourite today.’
‘I hope it’s haddock and chips and not sausage and mash,’ Adrian replied with that cheeky grin of his.
‘Fish and chips,’ Robert answered and, taking his arm, he led his best friend out of the library. ‘Thank you for all the effort you’ve put into this matter, Addy. I appreciate it. And I can’t wait to get my freedom. I can tell you that. Please ask your source to let you know if she rents that villa on the lake in Zürich.’
Adrian nodded. ‘Will you mention all this to Vanessa?’ he asked in a low tone.
‘No, I won’t. She has no need to know any details, just that you’re helping me to get my divorce.’
‘Smart of you, old chap. Best to keep it to ourselves. We don’t need any leaks. We must take Lucinda by surprise.’
‘Do you mean adultery would get more attention? In the newspapers?’ Robert asked, sounding suddenly alarmed.
‘I do. There are court reporters present in the courts of law, and you are a very visible, well-known member of the nobility, and well liked also. However, the press will cover the case, no doubt in my mind about that. I do know a couple of newspaper proprietors; still, I might not be able to influence them. Your divorce case will make news, especially since a well-known French politician is the co-respondent.’ Adrian grimaced. ‘Big headlines here. Gargantuan headlines in Paris, you bet!’
‘It would ruin him, of that I’m certain,’ Robert said, looking reflective. ‘Perhaps my solicitor could point that out to her solicitor, and make a bargain, threaten or persuade her to go the quieter way.’
Adrian chuckled. ‘That sounds like blackmail to me.’
‘I know it does, but we need to be in control of this situation.’ Robert sounded grim.
‘Do you think she wouldn’t care about a terrible scandal here?’ Adrian asked, raising a brow.
‘She doesn’t care about the world, what people think about her, and what she does. Not at all,’ Robert replied. ‘On the other hand, if she really loves her Frenchman then she won’t want his political career in tatters because of her.’
‘So she would be compliant,’ Adrian suggested.
‘Hopefully, but you never know with her. She’s very independent, lives by her own rules.’ Robert sighed and added, ‘I shall go and see my solicitor on Monday and give him the report. Let’s see what he advises.’
A moment later, Turnbull came into the breakfast room, where Robert preferred to have his daytime meals.
The butler was carrying a platter of deep-fried haddock. Behind him was one of the maids, with another tray on which there were dishes of chips and mushy peas, parsley sauce and malt vinegar in a cut-glass bottle.
Turnbull put the tray on the sideboard and asked, ‘Would you like two pieces of fish, Lord Adrian?’
‘Thank you, Turnbull, I would. And I’ll have chips and the peas. But no parsley sauce, thank you. I prefer vinegar.’
‘Very well, Your Lordship.’ Looking across at Robert, he went on, ‘And you will have your usual portion, m’lord?’
‘I will indeed, Turnbull. And please put the parsley sauce on the table with the vinegar. Thank you.’
‘I will, Lord Robert.’
Once the food had been plated and served, Turnbull and the maid left the morning room. Within seconds, the butler returned with two pints of beer and put a tankard in front of each man.
Robert said to Adrian, ‘I know you don’t like wine with fish and chips.’
He thanked Turnbull and picked up his knife and fork. ‘Neither do I.’ He grinned and said, ‘I’ve been looking forward to this meal all week.’
‘Nothing like childhood food,’ Adrian murmured. Now that they were alone, he said, ‘I’ve never seen you like this before. Besotted, I think might best describe your condition.’
‘True, I am smitten. I am going to marry her, Addy.’
‘Do you want the key to the Farm Street house in the meantime?’
‘No, I don’t. I’ve told you that before,’ Robert said.
‘You have. But I also wonder how you’ll manage over the next few months.’
‘I will! And that’s that! I’ve put off going back to Yorkshire for the time being, and I’m staying in town. Listen to me. You’ve known me most of our lives. Once I’ve made a decision, I stick to it. I rarely change my mind.’
‘Enough said, old chap. Don’t get your knickers in a twist. I will not mention the bloody house again.’
‘Thank you,’ Robert muttered, and concentrated on the food.
The two friends fell silent as they ate, both sinking down into their own thoughts.
Adrian’s mind had suddenly leaped to a cemetery in Kent, where he intended to go in the coming week. Annabel, he thought, my beloved Annabel. He needed to go and visit her grave. How he had loved her. To utter distraction, even though she had been married.
And how he had grieved when she had died. Unexpectedly, suddenly of a heart attack. She who had never been ill, never had heart problems. Her death had been a mystery to him, and it always would be. He blamed her husband. A rotten sod. And a bishop at that.
Robert was also thinking of a woman: his estranged wife, Lucinda. She could be difficult, contrary, wilful and, deep inside himself, he knew with great certainty that she would relish a scandalous divorce. Clap her hands with glee, in fact.
His only hope was that Adrian’s information might prevent it all becoming the talk of the town. That she might agree to go quietly.
A small sigh escaped, and he pushed the image aside. Instead he imagined Vanessa, the woman of his dreams, whom he had thought he would never find.
And in a way he hadn’t, she had found him, viewed him from afar, had had a crush on him for a year. A year of longing and desire. No wonder she wanted to have an affair with him now. He wanted that, too, if the truth be known. However, he had vowed to himself that he would control his desire for her. And wait.
He smiled inwardly, thinking of her bluntness, the way she blurted things out to him, exposed her feelings and emotions. He had never known a woman like her. Undoubtedly, she was unique. And, to be truthful, he liked hearing her thoughts in the raw, enjoyed her open-heartedness. It had turned his life on its head. He couldn’t think about returning to Yorkshire yet. He had written to his sons and to their tutor, and arranged for them to go to their grandparents as planned, at the large estate in nearby Skipton belonging to Lucinda’s father. They would stay there for several weeks.
Next he needed to give Wilson some instructions for while he was away, including what to do about the neglected gardens. He wished he could have tempted Blackie O’Neill to work on them. He needed someone he could trust. Someone who would just get on with it.
The arrival of Turnbull and the maid brought Robert and Adrian out of their thoughts. Both men straightened in their chairs.
Looking at Adrian, Robert said, ‘It’s jam roll for dessert. With hot custard. I thought you’d enjoy that, old chap.’
As the butler and the maid took their plates away, and replaced them with clean ones, Adrian said, ‘Ah well, memories of Eton, no less. And it is my favourite. You’re obviously spoiling me. Do you want something from me?’
‘’Course not. You’ve given me my freedom, helped me to make a new life for myself. I’ll say it again, I’m really grateful to you, Addy, for taking this on. Such a big job for you.’
‘What are best friends for? If they see a way to help, they do just that.’
Robert smiled his dazzling smile at his longest friend, who had been with him for thirty-one years, and made no comment.
It was at this precise moment that the sun burst out from behind the clouds and filled the breakfast room with radiant light. To Adrian, it was as if a spotlight had been shone on Robert.
For the first time in years, he saw him objectively, as a stranger might view him. The sparkling, very blue eyes, the sleek black head of hair, the chiselled features, the white teeth and the smile that captivated all. He’s a truly beautiful man, Adrian suddenly thought, not merely handsome. And there is the charisma, the fierce intellect, the extraordinary business acumen. That in itself was unbelievable. The way Robert had taken a long-time family business – several centuries old, in fact – and turned it from a profitable venture into a gargantuan empire.
Lassiter Estates owned half of Westminster and Mayfair, Kensington and beyond, not to mention much of the East End and the docks. He had the mansion and family estate in Ireland, as well as Bolton Manor and its land in Yorkshire, and he oversaw all of it. He’s a bloody marvel, Adrian thought.
And then, immediately, he understood it all. Everything there was to know about that estranged wife of Robert’s, the difficult Lucinda.
She was resentful and bitter about Lord Robert Lassiter. Envious and mean-spirited. Because Robert was the star of the show. And she was a nobody. She couldn’t bear it.
And so she had locked the bedroom door on him, and eventually found another man. Not a handsome man, but one who was plain, nondescript and seemingly did her bidding. She was with him because he had a certain amount of power. But it was she who shone in that relationship, with her silver-blonde hair, big bust and long legs. Like her lover, her face was not beautiful, but she had a certain flair with clothes. And with Léon Theroux, she was the star of the show.
Total and complete jealousy burning in that woman was the explanation for nine years of emptiness for Robert. And yet he believed she would never agree to a divorce. Punishing him?
Adrian wasn’t sure of that. But he knew one thing, the dossier he had on her would ruin her. And free Robert Lassiter finally.
‘You’re looking rather solemn,’ Robert said, breaking the silence. ‘Are you worried about something? Or about me?’
Adrian shook his head. ‘I’m not worried about you. You are going to be just fine. Actually, I was thinking about going to the cemetery next week. Would you come with me? I do think I’ll need your company. At least on the journey. I’m all right to go to Annabel’s grave alone, though.’
‘I’d be glad to accompany you,’ Robert answered. ‘It would be a sad and lonely trip if you were by yourself. And I will send a note to Harry Peterson, ask him if I can drop by his house in Aldington. He’s just come back from Paris, where he bought some paintings. Impressionists.’
‘Did he really! My God, he must have quite a collection by now,’ Adrian said, sounding impressed.
‘One of the best in the world, I suspect,’ Robert replied, glad he had averted the conversation away from the cemetery and Annabel. Adrian was convinced her husband had hurt her in some way, caused the heart attack, which Robert truly doubted.
After the butler had served the jam roll and custard and left, Adrian said, ‘This is perfection, Robert.’ He grinned and continued, ‘You’re definitely after something, spoiling me like this.’
Although he wasn’t looking for a favour, he suddenly thought of one. ‘Can I bring Vanessa down to Fraser Hall tomorrow, to spend a day in the country?’
‘It would be my pleasure! You see, I was right! You do want something in return for the comfort food. And you can stay the night, the whole of Saturday and Sunday too.’
Robert merely smiled and began to eat the dessert.