Nettie’s Secret. Dilly Court
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tea?’
‘Thank you. I would love some coffee. I didn’t have time for breakfast this morning.’
Constance rose gracefully and rang for a servant, who appeared as quickly as if she had been standing outside the door.
‘We don’t get many visitors.’ Constance resumed her seat, having given the maid her instructions. ‘I think you are the first person to call this week.’
‘Do you live here alone?’
‘I have a companion, but she is old enough to be my mother and we do not have much in common. I like theatre and ballet, and I would love to go to parties, but Mademoiselle Menjou likes to play cards and gossip with her friends, who are all old and very dull. There are the servants, of course, but they keep to themselves.’
Nettie was so interested in Constance’s plight that she had almost forgotten the reason for her visit. ‘I can sympathise wholeheartedly.’
‘You have a similar problem?’
‘Not exactly. I live with my father and he’s having difficulty in finding work. I was hoping that Duke might help him to get established in Paris.’
Constance was about to answer when a timid tap on the door and the rattle of cups on saucers announced the arrival of the maid, who edged her way into the room carrying a heavy silver tray, which she placed on a low table.
‘Merci, Berthe,’ Constance said, smiling. ‘C’est tout, merci.’
Berthe hesitated in the doorway, taking one last look at Nettie. No doubt she would rush back to the kitchen and relay everything to the servants below stairs. Nettie smiled at her and Berthe scurried from the room and closed the door.
Constance sighed. ‘That girl is so nosy. One day I will have to speak sharply to her.’ She picked up the coffeepot and filled two cups, passing one to Nettie. ‘I didn’t want to say anything in front of her because it will go straight back to the other servants, but I haven’t seen Duke for months. He comes and goes as he pleases. However, he sent me a telegram from Dover, saying he’s on his way to Paris, so I expect he will call on me quite soon.’
Nettie sipped the coffee. ‘He seems quite young to be your guardian.’
‘I suppose it is unusual, but I’ve known him since I was a child. My papa owned an art gallery in Paris, and he wanted to open one in London. Duke was a young man, half my father’s age, when they first met, and eventually they went into business together.’
‘You must have been just a child at the time.’
‘I was only seven when we left Paris and went to London, and I remember the house we lived in overlooked a large park. The gallery prospered and Mama wore beautiful gowns and we had our own carriage, and servants to look after us.’ Constance’s violet-blue eyes darkened and she turned her head away. ‘We were all so happy – and then my parents were killed in a train crash. Duke took care of me and became my guardian. He brought me back to Paris and set me up in this house, and he saw to it that I had a good education. He’s always made sure that I have everything I need.’
‘Even so, you must have been very lonely at times. Haven’t you any relatives who would have taken care of you?’
‘My grandparents died some time ago and my mother was an only child. I know nothing of my father’s family, but I am very fortunate to have a nice home and a kind guardian.’ Constance replaced her cup on its saucer, eyeing Nettie curiously. ‘But you are obviously troubled. Is there anything I can do to help?’
Nettie stared into the dark liquid in her cup, seeing her own worried reflection. ‘It’s rather complicated, but you could let me know if Duke contacts you. We’re in lodgings at the moment.’
‘I will, of course.’
‘Thank you.’ Nettie managed a smile but she was disappointed and desperate.
‘Maybe we could meet again?’ Constance said eagerly. ‘I would like to get to know you better. I have so few friends.’
Nettie would have liked to hug Constance and tell her that of course she would be her friend. Her heart went out to the lonely young woman, but she was wary of getting involved with someone who was close to Duke Dexter. ‘That would be lovely, but I’m not sure what I’ll be doing.’ She could see that this was not the answer that Constance had hoped for. ‘What I meant to say was that I have to help my father. We had to leave London in a hurry and we’re rather short of money.’
‘You’re obviously in some kind of trouble or you wouldn’t be here now. I’d like to help, if I can.’ Constance’s hand flew to her throat and she rose to her feet. ‘You’ll hardly believe this, Nettie, but I’ve just seen Duke walk past the window.’
She ran from the room and Nettie realised that she would have to be careful what she said in front of Constance, who quite obviously had no idea that her guardian was a criminal. She sat very straight, sipping her coffee and straining her ears in an attempt to hear what they were saying.
Constance burst into the room, her face alight with smiles. ‘Isn’t this the most incredible good luck? You wanted to see Duke and here he is.’
Nettie put her cup down and rose slowly to her feet, turning to face Duke Dexter with a carefully controlled expression. ‘How do you do, sir?’
He greeted her with an urbane smile. ‘How do you do, Miss Carroll? To what do I owe this pleasure?’
She met his mocking gaze with a steady look, and for a moment she was tempted to shame him in front of his ward, but that would be cruel and serve no useful purpose. Nettie knew that she would have to play along with his game, whatever it was. ‘My father is in Paris and we need your help, Mr Dexter.’
‘Robert Carroll is one of my favourite artists. How may I be of service?’
Nettie clenched her hands behind her back, digging her fingernails into her palms. She wondered how Duke could stand there, looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, when he had brought them to a state of near destitution. ‘He’s having some difficulty in finding a studio and suitable accommodation. I wondered if you might be able to help.’
Dexter smiled. ‘I’d be only too happy to assist in any way I can, Miss Carroll. I’ll be at the gallery for an hour or so tomorrow morning, between nine o’clock and ten o’clock, if you and my friend Robert would like to call on me. I’ll see what I can do.’
‘How splendid,’ Constance said eagerly. ‘And how fortunate that you came to see me today, Duke. You will stay awhile, won’t you?’
‘Of course I will, Connie. I couldn’t come to Paris without spending some time with my favourite ward.’
Constance’s eyes widened. ‘You have another?’
‘It’s a manner of speaking – an English eccentricity. Miss Carroll will understand.’
‘I understand a great deal,’ Nettie said, rising to her feet. ‘But I must go now. My father will be wondering where I am.’
‘I’ll see you out.’ Constance followed her to the front door. ‘You will come again, won’t you?’
‘I’ll try, but it depends on what we’re doing. We might have to leave Paris if we can’t find more suitable accommodation.’
Constance clasped her hand. ‘I’ll speak to Duke. If anyone can help you, he can. He pretends to be world-weary and cynical, but he’s a kind man at heart.’
Nettie left the house, trying hard to equate her vision of Duke Dexter with that of his adoring ward, and failing miserably. Duke was a skilled confidence trickster, a purveyor of forgeries, and behind that urbane smile she suspected lay a heart of solid stone.
‘Where have you been?’ Byron demanded. ‘Robert didn’t know where you’d gone and we were both worried that something might have