Buckingham Palace Gardens - Anne Perry [45]
“Did he tell you this, or did she?” he asked.
“What?” The color in Marquand’s face did not subside. “She did. And before you ask me, I have nothing further to say on the subject. Julius is my brother. I tell you only so much truth as honor obliges me to. I will not lie, even for him.”
“I understand. And of course Mrs. Sorokine is your sister-in-law,” Pitt conceded. Actually he did not understand. Was Marquand’s anger against his brother because he had placed him in a situation where he was forced to lie or betray him? Or was it against circumstances, the Prince and his expectations, even Dunkeld for engineering this whole situation? Or his own wife for making him feel guilty because he attended the party, and perhaps enjoyed it?
Pitt elicited a few more details of fact, and then excused him. He then asked to see Julius Sorokine, even though he had left early and would apparently know far less than the other men.
Julius came in casually, but there was an unmistakable anxiety in him. He was taller than his brother, and moved with the kind of grace that could not be learned. His ease was a gift of nature. He sat down opposite Pitt and waited to be questioned.
“Why did you leave the party earlier than everyone else, Mr. Sorokine?” Pitt asked bluntly.
The question seemed to embarrass Sorokine, and it flashed suddenly into Pitt’s mind that perhaps rather than spend at least some of the time with one of the prostitutes his father-in-law had provided, he had been with another woman altogether, of his own choosing. Perhaps that was why the handsome Minnie Sorokine had been confiding in her brother-in-law.
“Did you have an assignation with someone else?” Pitt asked abruptly. “If so, they can account for your time, and it need not be repeated to your wife.”
Julius laughed outright, in spite of his discomfort. It was a warm, uncompromising sound. “I wish it were so, but I’m afraid not. I was totally alone. Even my manservant cannot account for more than the first half hour or so, which cannot be the relevant time, since the women were all still at the party.”
“Why did you leave early?” Pitt asked. “Were you ill? You seem well enough today.”
“I was perfectly well,” Sorokine replied. He looked self-conscious. “I simply preferred not to indulge in that kind of pleasure.”
Pitt’s eyes widened a little, not certain if he was leaping to unwarranted conclusions.
Sorokine understood him instantly and blushed. “I have a certain regard for a woman who is not my wife,” he said a little huskily. It obviously embarrassed him. “I would prefer that she did not see me drinking and fornicating with prostitutes. I care for her opinion of me.” He lifted his eyes and stared at Pitt with surprising candor.
“I apologize,” Pitt said, then felt foolish. He was doing no more than his job, and the thought had been a brief idea discarded. But he would remember that about Julius Sorokine. It was another layer of the complicated emotions that lay between these people. Was he referring to the gorgeous Mrs. Quase, whose husband drank too much and spoke so disparagingly of himself?
It would be easy enough to understand. Or the unhappy Olga Marquand, elegant, stiff, and withdrawn, his brother’s wife? Or was it Elsa Dunkeld, as remote as an undiscovered country, where everything there was still to be found? He would be a brave man who would abandon Cahoon Dunkeld’s daughter and try to take his wife!
He looked carefully at Sorokine’s face and did not see that kind of courage in it. The strength was there, but not the fire, nor the resolve.
Pitt asked him a few more questions, but learned nothing that seemed to be of value. Finally he excused him and sent for Dunkeld again.
“Well?” Dunkeld asked as he closed the door. “Have you achieved anything, apart from insulting the Prince of Wales and disturbing everyone else?” He did not sit down but remained standing, towering over Pitt, who had not had time to rise to his feet.
Pitt remained seated, deliberately trying to appear relaxed. “The large box