Seven Dials - Anne Perry [39]
“Yes . . . yes, I’m afraid he did. He was usually reasonably discreet, of course. But one does get to know.” Ragnall was acutely aware of discussing intimate subjects with a social inferior. Pitt had placed him in the position of betraying his own class, or his ethics. Either would be hard and cut across his deep convictions as to who and what he wished to be.
“With what sort of women?” Pitt asked, his voice still light and courteous.
Ragnall’s eyes widened.
Pitt maintained his steady gaze. “Mr. Lovat has been murdered, sir,” he reminded him. “I am afraid the reasons for such a crime are not often as simple as we should like, or as far from shame. I need to know more about Mr. Lovat and the people he knew well.”
“Surely the Egyptian woman, Miss Zakhari, killed him?” Ragnall said, his composure regained. “He may have been foolish in pursuing her when his attentions would seem to have been unwelcome, but there is no need to drag anyone else into it, is there?” He regarded Pitt with a look of distaste.
“It appears as though she did,” Pitt conceded. “Although she denies it. And as you say, it seems an extremely violent and unnecessary way to refuse an unwanted suitor. From what I have heard of her so far, she was a woman of more finesse. She must have had unwanted suitors before. Why was Lovat different?”
Ragnall’s face tightened, and there was a dull color in his cheeks again and a stiffness in his manner. “You are right,” he said grudgingly. “If she made her living that way, and I had assumed such was the case, then she must have been better at discarding the old, in order to improve her situation, than this would suggest.”
“Exactly,” Pitt agreed with feeling. For the first time a point had been made in Ayesha Zakhari’s favor. He was startled by how much it pleased him. “What was Lovat like? And you are not giving his obituary. Only the truth can be fair to all.”
Ragnall thought for several moments. “Frankly, he was a womanizer,” he said reluctantly.
“He liked women?” Pitt attempted to reach after exactly what Ragnall meant. “He fell in love? He used them? Might he have made enemies?”
Ragnall was distinctly unhappy. “I . . . I really don’t know.”
“What gives you the impression that he was a womanizer, sir?” Pitt said bluntly. “Men have been known to exaggerate their conquests to impress others. A lot of loose talk does not necessarily mean anything.”
A flick of temper crossed Ragnall’s face. “Lovat didn’t talk, Mr. Pitt, at least not that I heard. It is my own observation, and that of colleagues.”
“What sort of women?” Pitt repeated. “Ones like Ayesha Zakhari?”
Ragnall was slightly taken aback. “You mean foreigners? Or . . .” He did not wish to use the word whore. It spoke not only of the women but of the men who used them. “Not that I am aware of,” he finished abruptly.
“I meant women who have no husbands or families in London,” Pitt corrected. “And who are past the usual age of marrying, possibly who make their way as mistresses.”
Ragnall took a deep breath, as if reaching a decision that was difficult for him.
Pitt waited. Perhaps finally he was on the brink of something that did not implicate Ryerson.
“No,” Ragnall said at last. “I gathered he did not particularly care, and . . . and he had not the means to support a mistress, not in any style.” He stopped, still reluctant to commit himself any further.
Pitt stared at him. “Other men’s wives? Their daughters?”
Ragnall cleared his throat. “Yes . . . at times.”
“Who were his friends?” Pitt asked. “What clubs did he belong to? What were his interests, sports? Did he gamble, go to the theater? What did he do in his leisure time?”
Ragnall hesitated.
“Don’t tell me you don’t know,” Pitt warned. “The man was in the diplomatic service. You could not allow yourself to be unaware of his habits. That would be incompetent. You must know his associates, his problems, his financial status.”
Ragnall looked down at his hands, spread on the desk, then up at Pitt again. “The man is dead,” he said quietly. “I have no idea whether that was pure misfortune