his head, all while his stomach roiled. This was exactly what Jameson had feared, what Phin had feared himself. If Jameson was implicated in whatever libel suit Lady Hamilton seemed intent to bring on the publisher of Nocturne, he and his family would suffer far more than Phin would.
“I don’t believe I know anyone by that name,” he answered, praying Gleason believed him.
It was clear that he didn’t. “Not even a passing acquaintance?” Gleason asked.
“No.” Phin shrugged again as sweat poured down his back. At the rate his face was heating, his glasses would fog up in no time.
“I was under the impression that—”
“Det. Gleason, are you certain you wouldn’t care for a bit of refreshment?” Lionel interrupted.
Phin frowned at his brother, but that expression melted away into curiosity. Lionel smiled fetchingly at Gleason, looking far too soft for his own good. As he did, he brushed his fingertips over the back of his hand in a particular way that Phin knew to be a signal amongst a certain sort of men. So help him, if Lionel was attempting to divert Gleason’s investigative instincts and get himself caught and brought to justice as an invert in order to save Phin, Phin would murder him the same way Swan had threatened to murder Lenore and the ranchers.
He was in no way prepared to have Gleason answer the signal with a corresponding one, touching his fingertips to the back of his hand, before clearing his throat and saying, “I think I have what I came here for.” He squared his shoulders and nodded to Phin. “Good evening, Mr. Mercer.”
Phin’s brow shot all the way up to his hairline as Gleason turned to go.
“One moment.” Lionel jumped out from behind the sofa, dashed to fetch something from a table at the end of the sofa, then met Gleason at the door. “I am employed by the Law Offices of Dandie & Wirth,” he said, presenting Gleason with what must have been a business card. “If we find that we might require the services of a detective, could we call on you?”
“Certainly,” Gleason said, his expression betraying nothing. Phin would have thought the man would at least wink or rake Lionel with a look, now that the two had, apparently, identified themselves to the other. If was decidedly odd that Lionel would give the man his card then ask if he could call on him.
“Perfect.” Lionel was the one to wink as he opened the door to show Gleason out. “I’m so pleased we met this evening.”
All Gleason did in return was touch the brim of his hat before stepping out into the hall.
Lionel shut the door behind him with a satisfied smile. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore.”
“You are unbelievable.” Phin shook his head, too stunned by the turn of events to chuckle. “I cannot believe you’re going to sleep with him to get me off the hook where Lady Hamilton is concerned.”
“Him?” Lionel shot an incredulous look to Phin, glanced to the door Gleason had disappeared through, then back to Phin with a dismissive laugh. “Aside from my vow of celibacy, which I take seriously, by the way, I would never lower my standards to what amounts to prostitution for the sake of my brother.”
That was enough to have Phin chuckling in spite of his misgivings. “You only prostitute yourself for your own sake.”
“It’s not prostitution between friends,” Lionel said with a cocky tilt of his head, glancing down his nose at Phin.
Phin shook his head, slapping Lionel’s arm as he returned to the sofa and sat heavily. “I doubt Gleason will give up his fight on Lady Hamilton’s behalf,” he said, rubbing his eyes under his glasses, then adjusting them back into place. “Harridans like Lady Hamilton don’t give up that easily.”
“No, they don’t,” Lionel agreed, moving to sit on the sofa by Phin’s side. His brow furrowed into the thoughtful look he wore whenever he was hatching some new plot. He leaned against the back of the sofa, crossed both his arms and his legs, and rubbed his chin, not unlike the way Gleason had. “I think I have an idea that might solve that particular problem, though,” he said at length.
“Thank God someone has an idea that could solve some of my problems,” Phin said, dripping with dry humor. “Now, if only I could figure out a way to resolve the fact that I’m not certain whether I want to strangle Lenore or marry her and keep