As Sophy gazed about her, her mouth slightly agape, Kane’s manservant – if that’s what he was – waved her towards a sofa set at an angle to the fire burning in the enormous marble fireplace. ‘Take a seat, miss – Mrs Shawe,’ he corrected himself, ‘and I’ll let Mr Gregory know you’re here.’
As he left, pulling the door closed behind him, it swung open again and stood ajar a few inches. Sophy heard him walk upstairs and knock on a door, presumably Kane’s bedroom. Then she heard nothing else for a few moments, but just before the sound of a door shutting again she thought she heard a woman’s voice and then Kane’s deep, unmistakable smoky tones.
The sound brought her sitting bolt upright. Kane had a woman in his bed. She felt a heat in her body that rose up to stain her neck and cheeks bright red. Oh my goodness, and she had arrived like this. She looked about her frantically as though she wanted to hide. Which she did.
First this strange and beautiful room which showed him in a totally different light, and now this. It was too much. She couldn’t face him, she really couldn’t. For a moment the fear and anxiety about Cat was forgotten. Kane and a woman . . .
By why not? Her hands gripped tightly together, she tried to bring reason to bear. He was a man, wasn’t he? And men had needs, desires. She stood up and walked over to the wide windows; the heat from the fire was strong and wasn’t helping her colour. Pressing her hands to her cheeks she willed them to cool down. She knew women threw themselves at Kane on occasion, she had seen it, but because he had never mentioned anyone in that way she had thought . . . What? That he was celibate? No, not exactly. She supposed she hadn’t thought of him in that way at all, that was the truth of the matter. He had always been Mr Gregory to begin with – if not a father figure, then definitely a kind of benign benefactor. And then he’d become a friend. A valued and precious friend. How precious she hadn’t realised until this moment when she’d recognised she didn’t know him as well as she’d imagined. She had to pull herself together. She drew in several deep breaths, staring out over the tree-lined square beyond the windows. It wasn’t for her to judge if Kane entertained women. He was a single man, he could do what he liked. It was ridiculous to feel let down like this.
It was another few minutes before Kane walked into the room, and by then Sophy’s acting ability had come to her rescue. She was able to greet him quietly and calmly, even if this new Kane – who clearly hadn’t yet shaved and whose black stubble accentuated the unfamiliar and disturbing side of him tenfold – was slightly unnerving. ‘Sophy?’ He had a worried frown on his face. ‘What’s wrong? What’s happened?’
‘Hello, Kane.’ When he took her hands in his she forced herself not to react. ‘I’m sorry to arrive uninvited like this, but it’s Cat.’
‘Cat?’
‘She’s missing. That is, she hasn’t been to her lodgings or the theatre she’s appearing at for days. It’s not like her. Cat wouldn’t leave without letting me know where she was, and she certainly wouldn’t miss a performance, let alone several.’
‘Slow down, slow down.’ He stopped her voice which had risen with every word by drawing her over to the sofa she’d vacated earlier. He pressed her down on it before sitting beside her, but without touching her now. ‘Start at the beginning,’ he said. ‘When was she last seen, for a start?’
‘I think I must have been the last person to see her. We went to a meeting together . . .’ She told him it all, finishing with her visits to the police station and the hospital. Taking a deep breath, she added, ‘And she said she’d been threatened.’
‘What?’ Kane sat up straighter. ‘By whom and when?’
‘She didn’t say.’ Sophy was bitterly regretting not making Cat ride in the cab with her. ‘In fact, she made light of it. She said all the actresses were subject to the same thing.’
Kane nodded slowly. Cat was right. It was this very thing that gave him nightmares regarding Sophy and caused him to provide protection for the actresses in his theatres. But Cat hadn’t been working for him, and he knew that the manager of the establishment where Cat had been playing couldn’t give a damn. Behind his calm facade, his mind was racing. One part of his brain was dealing with Sophy’s presence in his house – something he had fantasised about for years; the other was reflecting that it was Murphy’s Law it had to be on a morning he’d brought a woman home the night before. Eliza was a young, busty wench happily devoid of inhibitions, and they’d enjoyed a pleasant if energetic night together, both of them aware it meant nothing beyond a gratification of bodily need. He was no saint, he admitted it, but this morning he wished he was when he looked into Sophy’s amber eyes.