Pentecost Alley - Anne Perry [24]
Pitt inclined his head towards them and they nodded in reply.
Helliwell was left with no alternative but either to take Pitt forward and introduce him or to dismiss him with what could only be construed as the utmost rudeness, which he would then have had to explain.
Helliwell swore under his breath and made his decision. He strode forward, a fixed smile on his face, his voice artificially hearty.
“My dear Adeline. Mama-in-law, Papa-in-law. What an excellent day. May I introduce Mr. Pitt. We met by chance in my club. A few acquaintances in common—in the past, not the present. Mr. Pitt, my wife and my parents-in-law, Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Alcott.”
Introductions performed, Helliwell made as if to climb into the carriage.
“And Mr. Jago Jones?” Pitt said cheerfully. “Can you tell me where I might be able to find him?”
“Not the slightest idea,” Helliwell said instantly. “Sorry, old chap. Haven’t seen him in years. A trifle eccentric. An acquaintance of chance rather than any common bond, you understand? Can’t help you at all.” He put his hand onto the carriage door.
“And Mr. Thirlstone,” Pitt pressed. “Was he an acquaintance of chance also?”
Before Helliwell could answer, his wife leaned forward, looking first at her husband, then at Pitt.
“Do you mean Mortimer Thirlstone, sir? No, not chance at all. We know him quite well. Indeed, wasn’t he at Lady Woodville’s soirée the other evening? He was with Violet Kirk, I remember distinctly. There is some talk that they may become betrothed quite soon. I know that, because she told me so herself.”
“You shouldn’t speak of it, my dear,” Helliwell said huskily, his face reddening. “Not until it is announced. It could cause profound embarrassment. What if it were not true, after all?” He opened the door and was about to climb in when his wife spoke across him again, still addressing Pitt. She had a charming face and the most beautiful brown hair.
“Did I hear you ask for the whereabouts of Mr. Jago Jones?” Adeline asked Pitt.
“Yes, ma’am,” Pitt said quickly. “Are you acquainted with him?”
“No, but I’m sure Miss Tallulah FitzJames could tell you. He used to be a close friend of her brother, Finlay, whom we all know.” She glanced at Helliwell, whose answering look should have frozen her. She kept her sunny smile on Pitt. “I am sure if you were to ask her, and explain to her how important it is to you, she would be able to help. She is a delightful creature, and most kind.”
“She is a flighty young woman with whom I should rather you did not associate,” Mr. Alcott said suddenly. “You are too generous in your opinions, my dear.”
“You should listen a little more to what people say,” Mrs. Alcott added. “Then you would know that her reputation is becoming less attractive as she grows older and does not marry. I am sure she must have had offers.” She made a delicate gesture with one gloved hand. “Her father has money, her mother has breeding, and the girl herself is certainly handsome enough, in her way. If she does not marry soon, people will begin to speculate as to why not.”
“I agree,” Helliwell said hastily. “Far better you are no more than civil to her, if you should happen to meet, which is unlikely. She moves with a set you would have nothing to do with. I think ‘flighty’ is a very kind word, Mama-in-law. I should have chosen one less flattering.” His tone was final. He turned to Pitt. “Delightful to have met you, sir.” He swung up into the carriage and closed the door. “Good day to you.” And he signaled the driver to proceed, leaving Pitt standing on the footpath in the sun.
Superficially, Mortimer Thirlstone was a vastly different man. He was tall and lean and affected a manner and dress of an artist. His long hair was parted in the center. He wore a soft silk shirt and widely flowing cravat tied meticulously, and a