Blind Trust by Susannah Bamford Page B

interrupted, Tavish, a most important visit. You frightened her away, poor soul, didn’t you see that?”
    Tavish dropped into an armchair. “I apologize. I do !” he repeated to Columbine’s raised eyebrows. “I didn’t see her at first when I arrived. And then I didn’t get a chance to excuse myself and leave. I was about to. Honest. Whatever did you say to her to make her bolt like that, Columbine?”
    With a sigh, Columbine sat down in the chair opposite him. “I don’t think it was my talk, outrageous as it was. I was trying to put her at ease. You know I can’t chatter about dresses and parties and the weather. Perhaps I went too far.”
    â€œ ‘The Sacred Cows of Sexual Freedom’?” Tavish asked, his eyes twinkling merrily. “‘Our communities are hot little hells’!”
    â€œThat was Victoria Woodhull who said that, not me, darling,” Columbine said. She raised her arms above her head and stretched, yawning, then eyed him through the arch of her slender arms. “How you do condescend, Mr. Finn.”
    â€œNo, never. I only tease. You know I am proud of you. Why do you think she came?”
    Columbine let her arms drop. She frowned. “She’s in trouble, Tavish, that I know. Perhaps she came to me for some kind of help. That’s why your interruption was so unfortunate.”
    â€œThen I am truly sorry, Columbine. Though why such a woman as Mrs. Statton could need help, I can’t imagine. She has everything she desires, doesn’t she? That famous mausoleum she lives in, the Worth gowns—why, she most likely has consultations with Mr. Worth himself on her wardrobe!”
    â€œIt isn’t like you to be unkind, Tavish. Women such as Mrs. Statton can have great sadness in their lives. As I well know,” she said quietly. “And you should not have forgotten.”
    Tavish shifted uneasily. “I’m sorry, Columbine.”
    â€œGood. Now why did you barge into my sitting room today? You knew if I’d left that message with Mrs. Hudson that I didn’t want to be disturbed. And you were to come at five, if I remember correctly, and I always do.”
    â€œI have a question for you and a favor to ask. Which would you like first?”
    â€œThe question, please. It sounds more harmless.”
    â€œDo you know a Mrs. Usenko?”
    She looked at him warily. “That is not a harmless question. Yes, I’ve heard of her, though I don’t know her. Why do you ask?”
    â€œI bribed Claude Statton’s messenger boy this morning and had the privilege of reading his city correspondence. Not very enlightening, unfortunately. But there was a message from this lady having to do with some kind of payment.”
    â€œWhy Claude Statton? You suspect him as part of this group you’re investigating?”
    â€œPerhaps. Are you going to tell me about Mrs. Usenko?”
    Columbine sat up straighter. “Mrs. Usenko is an abortionist. Like Madame Restell used to be, a high-priced abortionist with society folk among her clientele. She was an assistant to Madame Restell and took over after Madame cut her own throat. She has the accoutrements—a mansion on Madison Avenue, a carriage—she even has ermine-trimmed robes, like Madame Restell did. I hope she does not suffer the same fate. Anthony Comstock has thundered about her, too. Let’s hope he doesn’t drive her to suicide. Do you think Claude Statton used her for a mistress in distress?”
    Tavish drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “It wasn’t clear in the note. It just mentioned some figures. Odd … Now for the favor. I want you to get me invited to the Van Cormandt house party at their place in the Hudson Valley.”
    â€œTavish! I can’t do that.”
    â€œYes, you can. Ned Van Cormandt will do anything you want him to.”
    â€œBut I can’t ask him—”
    â€œYou