Pippa and the Prince of Secrets by Grace Callaway

13

Pippa surfaced groggily from sleep. It took her a moment to realize that she was in her bedchamber. A gentle rapping at the door had awakened her.

“Come in,” she said, yawning.

Suzette, her lady’s maid, entered. “You asked that I wake you at eight o’clock, my lady.”

“It’s eight already?” Pippa said in surprise.

Her sleep must have been deeper than usual…no doubt because she’d stayed past midnight at the Nest, keeping Ollie company. The poor dear couldn’t recall anything, not even his name; he’d been so frightened and lost. Luckily, Dr. Abernathy had come, and after a thorough examination, concluded that no permanent damage had been done. He didn’t know when Ollie’s memory would return and prescribed rest and calm as the best medicine.

Pippa recalled her relief—and that of Cull, who’d been standing there, shoulders taut, clearly braced for the worst. His throat had bobbed. Then he’d blinked and shoved his hands in his pockets, uttering a gruff thanks to the doctor. At that moment, Pippa had glimpsed the boy inside the powerful man’s body. The lad she’d kissed in the tower. And she’d felt that same, inexorable pull toward him that fourteen years hadn’t lessened.

“Shall I help you dress, my lady?” Suzette inquired.

Pushing aside the coverlet, Pippa got out of bed. “Yes. And please tell the driver to ready the carriage. I am headed over to the Duchess of Hadleigh’s.”

After she’d told Charlie about seeing Julianna Hastings at The Enchanted Rose the night before her death, Charlie had agreed that that could be an important clue. She’d arranged for Pippa to meet with Mrs. Loverly this morning, and Livy had offered to come along.

Arriving at the Hadleighs’ Palladian mansion in Mayfair, Pippa was ushered into the drawing room, where a pacing Livy placed a finger over her lips, whispering, “Shh.”

The greeting was understandable as Livy’s infant daughter Esmerelda was sleeping on her shoulder. Pippa went over, taking in the tiny miracle with rosebud lips and wispy dark hair. She felt a thrum of longing for another piece of her old dream that had failed to come true.

“Esme was up all night, and I just got her to sleep,” Livy said in a hush. “Once I put her down, we can leave.”

Unlike most ladies of her station, Livy did not relegate Esme’s care to staff. While Esme had a nursemaid, Livy liked to be hands-on with her child, a tradition passed onto her by her mother. Pippa’s own mama had also taken an active role in raising the Hunt brood; if Pippa were ever blessed with a child, she would be the same way.

An unbidden image flashed of Cull tucking Teddy beneath his arm. His affection toward the larks was unmistakable. What kind of a father would he be…?

She shoved aside the thought, murmuring, “Esme is so beautiful. She has your looks, Livy.”

As if sensing the compliment, Esme made a cooing sound. Pippa held her breath, praying the babe wouldn’t wake. Esme’s lashes fanned up, unfocused green eyes blinking. Her lips puckered, and she let out a demanding wail.

A deep male voice said, “She has her mama’s temperament as well.”

Pippa turned to see the Duke of Hadleigh approaching in his long-limbed stride. He was a handsome fellow in his thirties with thick, dark hair and blue eyes. His navy frock coat and dove-grey trousers fit his virile form like a glove, his cravat a work of art beneath his chin.

“Good morning, my lady,” he said, bowing.

Pippa smiled and curtsied. “Your Grace.”

When she’d first met the duke years ago, he’d been a hardened rake, known for his excesses and volatile first marriage. A friend of Livy’s family, he’d attended many of the same functions Pippa had, and she’d noticed that, despite his black reputation, there’d been a special connection between him and Livy. A true and steadfast friendship despite their age difference. Last year, that friendship had blossomed into love…although Livy had confided that she’d had to work to convince Hadleigh to see her as a woman. As he had led a notorious life with his former duchess, Hadleigh had apparently believed Livy deserved a better man.

Seeing him now, the glowing contentment in his eyes as he kissed Livy before taking his daughter and tucking her in the crook of his arm, Pippa saw the evidence that love—true love—could change people. Heal them. Even if they had made bad choices in their past.

“You have the magic touch with Esme,” Livy told her husband. “She was determined to kick up a fuss with me. But look at her now, quiet as a mouse.”

The babe batted her eyelashes at Hadleigh, letting out a soft gurgle before falling asleep again. The duke looked at his daughter as if he couldn’t quite believe that she was real.

“I have experience handling headstrong ladies.” He winked at his wife. Then, he seemed to take note of the fact that Livy was dressed to go out in her rose-colored carriage dress and fur-lined cloak. “Where are you headed off to, my love?”

“Pippa and I are just running an errand,” Livy said breezily.

A bit too breezily, for Hadleigh narrowed his eyes. “What kind of errand?”

“Oh, nothing of import.”

“If it is not important, why are you avoiding my question?”

“Because you don’t want to know the answer,” Livy muttered.

“Regardless, I must know.”

“Fine, but give Esme to Pippa, and we’ll talk in the study. Your shouting will wake the babe.”

Hadleigh looked offended. “I do not shout.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” Livy said under her breath.

Pippa carefully took Esme as the Hadleighs excused themselves. In the doorway, Livy turned back to give Pippa a wide-eyed look, drawing a finger across her neck. The universal sign for I’m in trouble now.

Knowing Livy rather enjoyed courting trouble with Hadleigh, Pippa smothered a smile. She cuddled Esme closer, breathing in the babe’s sweet, milky scent. In the distance, she heard the muffled sounds of a conversation.

Suddenly, Hadleigh’s voice rose to a roar. “What the devil? That place is a male brothel!”

More muffled words. Then everything went quiet.

Pippa guessed that Livy had found a more persuasive way than words to win the argument. Sure enough, when the pair returned a few minutes later, Livy was rosy and breathless, and Hadleigh’s cravat was rumpled.

“I’m ready to go,” Livy said cheerfully.

Taking Esme, Hadleigh gave his wife a warning look. “Send word when you are done with your errand, little queen. The moment you are done.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Livy replied with a saucy curtsy.

As the carriage headed to The Enchanted Rose, Livy folded her hands atop her rose-colored skirts and said, “Tell me what happened with the Prince of Larks last night.”

Pippa filled Livy in on Ollie’s attack and the likely connection with Lady Hastings’s murder.

“The poor boy,” Livy exclaimed. “I’m so relieved he will be all right. And what about Mr. Cullen?”

There went that annoying stutter in Pippa’s heart. “What about him?”

Livy’s brows arched over her knowing green eyes. “I can tell something is going on between the two of you.”

“How, pray tell?”

“I can’t explain it, exactly. But you have some of your old sparkle back.”

“I wasn’t aware I had any to begin with,” Pippa said wryly.

“You’ve always lit up any room you entered,” Livy said.

Years ago, Cull had said something similar, Pippa recalled with a pang. She could hardly remember being that happy, carefree girl; it seemed like a lifetime ago.

“If I may be frank…”

Amused, Pippa asked, “Do you know how to be otherwise, dear?”

“Hadleigh says I’m as subtle as a brick through a window,” Livy said ruefully.

Pippa chuckled. “Your husband adores you.”

“I know.” A dreamy look flitted through Livy’s eyes. “And you deserve the same.”

Pippa tensed. “I have no intention of marrying again—”

“Oh, I don’t mean marriage, necessarily. Just that you deserve to be happy. Since Longmere died, you haven’t been yourself.”

“Grieving has that effect.”

Livy drew a breath as if she was about to say something difficult. “You were changing even before he died.”

Frowning, Pippa said, “How do you mean?”

“Your light, Pippa. When you were with Longmere, he dimmed it.” Livy bit her lip. “I didn’t see you as often after you married, but when I did, you always seemed distracted. Or worried. And when I saw the two of you together, the attention was always on him. On his art. When anyone could see that you were the better painter—”

“Don’t.” The clamp of guilt made it difficult for Pippa to breathe. “There is no comparison. Longmere’s art was everything to him. He hadn’t reached his full potential. If he had lived, who knows what he could have accomplished—”

“Well, it’s true that his last piece showed considerable improvement over the rest.”

Palms sweaty inside her gloves, Pippa held herself still beneath Livy’s keen gaze. She’d vowed to herself that she would not betray Longmere’s legacy. The one thing she’d given him that he valued.

“He never had a chance.” She forced the words through her constricted throat. “To show the world who he could have been.”

“I don’t mean to cause you distress, dear.” Livy’s delicate features creased with concern. “I care about you and want to see you happy.”

Pippa shaped her lips into a smile. “I’m getting better.”

“I have seen glimpses of your light returning.” The teasing note in Livy’s voice alleviated some of the tension. “Whenever we’re talking about Mr. Cullen.”

“That light you see is the glow of irritation.”

“I’m married. Trust me, I’m aware of what irritation looks like.” Livy’s grin was impish. “I see it all the time in Hadleigh’s eyes.”

Pippa shook her head fondly. “You could try to be less of a brat, dear.”

“What fun would that be? Besides, Hadleigh likes me as I am.”

Livy’s confidence sparked a flame of yearning in Pippa. To have such unconditional love—

“And it’s obvious that you have an ardent admirer as well. Why else would Mr. Cullen be trying to protect you?”

“Because he’s a domineering ass?” Yet Pippa’s words lacked heat.

“So is Hadleigh, from time to time. That doesn’t stop me from adoring him.” Livy’s look was shrewd. “You are attracted to Mr. Cullen, aren’t you?”

Pippa didn’t have the wherewithal to lie. “Imight be somewhat drawn to him.”

“Has he kissed you yet?”

Pippa’s cheeks flamed, betraying her.

“Oh my goodness, he has,” Livy breathed. “Is he a good kisser?”

Pippa straightened a pleat in her skirts. “I’m not discussing it—”

“It’s just you and me, and I’m a married woman now. You can speak freely about you-know-what.”

“You-know-what?” With bubbling mirth, Pippa said, “If we’re calling it that, then we’re definitely not ready for this conversation.”

“Fine. Let’s call it what it is. Relations of a biblical nature.”

“And Hadleigh says you’re not tactful.”

“You’re evading the issue, Pippa.”

Faced with the determined slant of Livy’s chin, Pippa knew her friend wasn’t going to let go of the issue. And the truth was she wanted to talk about Cull. With someone she trusted…someone other than Charlie, who had a bias against males in general.

“He is a good kisser,” she admitted. The best. “That is the problem.”

Livy frowned. “How is that a problem?”

Let me count the ways.She chose the simplest answer. “I am still in mourning. It doesn’t feel right that I should be attracted to another man.”

“You’re widowed, not dead. And it’s been a year since Longmere’s passing—longer than that since he made you happy,” Livy said acutely. “He deceived you, kept you in the dark, made you worry so much that you hired investigators to look into his activities. I know one shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but in this instance, I must do so to encourage the living. To encourage you, Pippa, to find the happiness you deserve.”

Her friend’s words were a balm to the chapped patches of Pippa’s heart.

“Sometimes I think I’ve forgotten how to be happy,” she said, her throat scratchy.

“It is like riding a horse. After a fall, it can be scary to get in the saddle again, but one must.”

Pippa pinched her brows together. “Is the saddle a metaphor for a relationship?”

“Or for something else,” Livy said in a suggestive tone.

“Olivia McLeod Wodehouse.” Pippa burst out laughing. “You are incorrigible.”

“Would it be so bad to enjoy the pleasures of the moment? You are a widow, after all. You have freedoms that you could exercise with Mr. Cullen. If you wish to.”

“I think I do.” It was a relief to say it aloud. “With all that was going on with Ollie and Lady Hastings’s murder, however, Cull and I left things unsettled between us. He told me he’s no good for me, but he also admitted that he does…that he is interested in me. It’s all so confusing. And, heavens, I haven’t even seen him without his mask.”

Livy drew her brows together. “He’s never removed it?”

Pippa shook her head. “I asked him to once, and he said he couldn’t. According to Charlie, he’s always worn the mask in her presence as well. To uphold his aura of enigma.”

“It’s one thing to remain masked in public as the Prince of Larks, but another when he is in private with you.”

“It’s strange, I know.” Pippa sighed. “On top of that, Cull and I are locking horns on the matter of Lady Hastings’s murder. He insists that I should stay out of it, and I told him to stop getting in my way.”

“When a man tells a woman to stay out of it, does he actually expect her to obey?” Livy mused. “I have always wondered.”

Pippa chewed on her lip. “So do you think I should see him again?”

“If the Prince of Larks is the kind of man I think he is, then you will undoubtedly see him again,” Livy said sagely. “The question is how you wish to proceed when you do.”

Mrs. Loverly received them in her office and was barely recognizable from the last time Pippa had seen her. She wore no wig, her mousy brown hair tied in curling papers. Her cheeks and lips were pale without cosmetics, and her tattered chintz wrapper covered her from neck to toes. All in all, she looked more like a frowsy matron than a notorious madam.

Pippa’s surprise must have shown, for as the bawd waved them to the chairs by her desk, she said, “I only get dressed up for work, dearie. Speaking o’ which, right now is my bedtime. I don’t mind doing Lady Fayne a favor, but I need my beauty rest, eh?”

“Of course,” Pippa said hastily. “We would like to see your guest list for the night when I was here.”

Mrs. Loverly leaned back in her chair. “Afraid I can’t do that, luvie. Even for Lady Fayne. She understands as I do that discretion is the bedrock o’ our enterprises.”

“Will you at least confirm if Lady Julianna Hastings was on the list?” Livy asked.

The bawd’s gaze thinned. “You mean the lady wot got murdered? It was splashed all o’er the papers yesterday and today.”

Pippa nodded. “To bring her killer to justice, we need your help.”

After a pause, Mrs. Loverly replied, “She weren’t on the list. Never met the woman.”

Undeterred, Pippa opened her black silk reticule and took out a small sketch book. Opening it to the two portraits she’d sketched—one of Julianna Hastings, the other of the mahogany-haired man with the silver eyes—she placed it on the desk.

“Do you recognize either of these people?” she asked.

The bawd studied the drawings. “They were at my club that night.”

Pippa’s pulse quickened. “Who are they?”

Mrs. Loverly tapped a finger on the sketch of the woman. “Gave her name as Mary Brown. Said she were a widow looking for some company. First-time patron and paid in gold.” She turned to the drawing of the man. “Now him, I’ve had in my club a handful o’ times. Uses the name Thor on account of his mighty, ahem, thunderbolt.”

A snort escaped Livy. “What is his real name?”

“He didn’t say, and I didn’t ask. It ain’t easy finding prime male specimens, so I take them as they come. Can’t say for certain, but I’d pin him as an actor.”

“Why do you say that?” Pippa asked.

“Call it a gut feeling.” The bawd shrugged. “Quite a few actors work for me to make extra blunt when they’re between jobs. And Thor struck me as the kind of fellow who landed mostly thinking parts.”

In other words, non-speaking roles that didn’t pay well.

“That’s all I know. If there’s nothing else…” Mrs. Loverly elevated her brows.

Seeing Livy shake her head, Pippa rose. “We appreciate your time, ma’am.”

Pippa and Livy made their next stop at Charlie’s.

“Not that we have much to share,” Livy groused as they headed toward the study. “Trying to find this Thor will be no easy task. Unemployed actors in London are as plentiful as eels in the Thames. And are you certain the woman you saw that night was Julianna Hastings?”

“Not absolutely certain,” Pippa admitted. “But I have a good memory for faces.”

“Lady Hastings was rather unremarkable in her looks. A lot of women could resemble her.”

“Perhaps. Yet ‘Mary Brown’ could have been an alias that Lady Hastings was using. Such a common name would be nearly impossible to track down…”

Pippa trailed off as Charlie came down the corridor toward them. She had never seen the other lady look so agitated.

With a rush of concern, she asked, “What is the matter?”

“I just received word.” Charlie’s eyes were icy with rage. “The police have concluded that Lady Hastings was the victim of a random crime. Jeremy Hastings has been cleared of any wrongdoing and won’t be held responsible for the murder of his wife.”