Read Die I Will Not for Free Online Page B

real story, Chase, to spice up my pamphlet.”
    â€œWhat exactly does Leach say in these letters?”
    â€œOh, the usual rant. He calls Collatinus a coward who fled in disgrace in ’94 when the authorities were forced to take strong measures. Says he hopes they’ll crush the malefactors now in wartime. Trots out the sacred honor of the royal family and His Highness’ rights as a father.” Gander pursed his lips to convey his dismay at the depravity of the modern era. He allowed Chase a moment to absorb his words, then added, “Leach was about to reveal the identity of Collatinus, though I suppose this treat is no longer in store for us.”
    â€œHow does Mrs. Wolfe figure here?”
    â€œThat’s for you to find out, isn’t it? I’ll tell you two things, though. Her husband is an intimate of a man called Horatio Rex, father-in-law to the journalist. And, strangely enough, Mrs. Wolfe paid a visit to Leach on the very day he took ill. What do you suppose she wanted?”
    Chase kept his face blank, but inside his thoughts churned. He had heard of this Horatio Rex. Some years back, Rex had been questioned at Bow Street on charges of assaulting two prostitutes. Though the two victims had quickly recanted their testimony, Rex was later convicted at trial. Had these women attempted to extort money with a false accusation, or had he paid them off to silence them? Whatever the truth, and despite his hard-won social position, Horatio Rex had a murky reputation. What was Mrs. Wolfe embroiled in this time? Chase knew her for a woman honorable to a fault but prone to heedless impulse. “I’ll look into the matter,” he said.
    Reaching into his waistcoat pocket, Gander pulled out his watch. After consulting it, he grinned. “I thought you might agree. Then you’re sure to enjoy the show at Mr. Rex’s rout-party this evening. Just say you’ve come to guard the family jewels.”
    ***
    Horatio Rex and the Dowager Countess of Cloondara resided in Fitzroy Square, a newer terrace of houses faced with Portland stone just south of the New Road and north of Oxford Street. The square itself had been built only on the east and south sides, for the work had been halted upon the breakout of the war when trade stagnated. It had an air of aspiring to big things in a location not quite promising enough to deliver them. Two or three hundred people were there to guzzle Mr. Rex’s excellent champagne and revel in the overpowering grandeur of his drawing rooms. At the head of the stone staircase, Mr. Rex, a slim man of sixty dressed with restrained elegance, waited to greet his guests, the Countess at his side. In recent months, Mr. Rex had been eager to offer Penelope and Jeremy his friendship, but Penelope, not liking the banker’s circle of dissolute gentlemen and worried that Rex encouraged her husband in idleness, had done her best to stay aloof. However, Jeremy nourished hopes of preferment; it had even been hinted he might be introduced to the Prince Regent, a noted connoisseur of the arts.
    The Countess of Cloondara, some years her husband’s elder, held herself like a much younger woman, though wrinkles were scored over the remains of a striking beauty to form a cracked mask. Jeremy received a smile as he lifted her hand, spotted and twisted with age, to his lips. To Penelope, the Countess murmured a polite greeting. Gazing into her still vivid eyes, Penelope was taken aback to discern a flicker of dislike, though for what reason she could not fathom. Her father had mentioned that the Countess had been kind to her when she was a child.
    Penelope turned away to allow the next guest to approach, accompanying Jeremy through the glittering throng of ladies and gentlemen, laughing and chatting under chandeliers that blazed with light. Whatever her host’s personal history, he had done well for himself, she reflected. Softly, she asked Jeremy how Mr. Rex had come