The Unquiet - J. D. Robb [66]
“Yes, we are too contented, the three of us. I’m not sure that’s always good.” Griff stood up and went behind the screen to use the chamber pot.
Had he ever been content? Chase wondered. He thought about it as he savored the newly imported French brandy, which had been unavailable during the war—one of the inconveniences he had borne without complaint, or not much complaint, while his countrymen fought the French.
He’d enjoyed being away at school. He’d enjoyed the London Season, but the only contentment he could recall was that moment sitting in the back room of Chernov Drapers, enjoying tea and superb cream cakes with Lydia.
But while he might have been content, his Lydia had secrets she had not yet shared. He hoped when she trusted him enough she would lay them before him and realize that, whatever they were, they were all in a past that might influence the present but was not part of their future.
He turned to Griff, who had just sat down again and was breathing in the brandy. “What have you been able to find out about Alexei Chernov?”
“The man was a chameleon,” Griff began. “He was loved or hated,” Griffin went on, “depending on who you talk to. One thing they all agree on is that he always had an eye on the main chance, on a way to make money quick and easy.”
“Legally?”
“If one does not put too fine a point on it. For example, he would not hesitate to cut yardage from a bolt or substitute a bolt of lesser quality if he thought the buyer would be taken in. Almost always it worked. Not too many as quick as he was.”
Chase sipped the brandy. What he really wanted to do was knock it back and call for more. “How deep was his wife into this chicanery?”
“Everyone, to a man, says that Mrs. Chernov has spent the last year trying to right his wrongs. Money’s been tight for the family since he drowned, not because a woman is running the business, but because she is trying too hard to clear the Chernov name.”
“How did you find out all of this?”
“My mother. She knows everyone in town, including Chernov’s sister, who’s married to Allerton, the biggest mill owner in Birmingham. Mrs. Allerton’s the one who gave my mother that last bit about how hard Mrs. Chernov is working to make the Chernov name respectable again. Mrs. Allerton wants nothing more than to rise in society.”
“Then how do you know she was telling the truth about Mrs. Chernov’s efforts?” It was easier to think objectively when he wasn’t drowning in Lydia’s eyes, in that floral scent she favored, in the way she held on to her necklace when she was moved or afraid.
“I talked to a few of the merchants involved myself. They said Mrs. Chernov has been honest, even too honest. One of them said he took her aside and explained a few home truths about the way a merchant makes money. He said she thanked him for his insight but that she would do business so she did not need brandy to sleep at night.”
Chase smiled into his glass. That sounded like the woman he loved. He almost choked on the sip that accompanied that thought, then put it out of his mind as Griff went on.
“According to Mrs. Allerton, Mrs. Chernov and Mr. Allerton are about to sign an agreement. She is going to give him the purple dye recipe that Alexei Chernov would never share with anyone.”
He straightened. “Why in the world would she do that? It’s arguably the most valuable item she owns.” Except, possibly, for the mysterious coin.
“Mrs. Allerton told my mother that the contract would guarantee that the recipe stayed in the family.”
The whole thing gave him a headache. Or maybe it was the brandy he had done without for so long. Wasn’t Lydia family enough? “Thank you, Griffin. And do thank your mother. I have no idea how she is able to convince people to confide in her, but I am glad she does.”
“She adds something to their tea,” Griff said with a straight face and then chuckled at Chase’s shocked expression.
“No, no. She is one of those people who listen, and people do always want to talk about themselves. She once had a woman