It was, in some perverse way, just what he might have expected. If only he could truly have said that it made no sense. ‘God rot him.’ Surprised by his own vehemence, Spandrel pressed a fist to his forehead and closed his eyes.

He needs your compliance, not your envy.’ Walpole didn’t mention it to you, of course. I haven’t told my … accomplices … who she really is.’ Oh, she calls herself Davenant now, by the by. That no doubt appeals to his sense of … husbandry. A wife in Chelsea and a mistress in St James’s. An easy toddle from the house he keeps in Arlington Street. Phoenix House, near the corner of Duke Street, should you wish to see for yourself. He’s installed her in a house in Jermyn Street. Walpole doesn’t hide his vices any more than his virtues. But I’ve seen her with my own eyes, man, riding with him in a coach. Perhaps this … connection … with Walpole is her way of profiting from it nonetheless.’ But Cloisterman went by sea from Leghorn. ‘She had no more use for you once the Green Book was gone, then. What did you think she meant to do when you left Rome?’ Estelle, with Walpole? It was not possible. It-’ Spandrel stopped and stared into the fire. ‘Estelle de Vries.’ McIlwraith refilled Spandrel’s brandy glass.

One of them’s the same as yours, as a matter of fact. ‘Oh, he has his weaknesses, never doubt it. ‘Wait and see.’ McIlwraith’s smile grew wistful. ‘Aren’t I more trustworthy than Walpole, man? Aren’t I just about the only one you can trust in all this?’ But if he told him the truth … he was also finished. If he lied to Walpole and Walpole found out, he was finished. Off the hook? Spandrel did not feel as if he was. ‘I’m doing you a favour, Spandrel, though God knows why I should. ‘Because by then Walpole will have more important things to worry about.

Closed Circle by Robert Goddard