Pippa and the Prince of Secrets by Grace Callaway

14

“Methinks the husband doth protest too much,” Livy said in hushed tones as she and Pippa entered the Hastings’s drawing room the following afternoon.

Taking in the lavish decorations, Pippa had to agree. Viscount Hastings took better care of his wife in death than he had in life. He’d spent a small fortune on the funeral, with huge white bouquets blooming throughout the room, their cloying scent unable to mask the faint smell of decay. Fine black crepe had been draped over the mirrors, and rows of chairs with black velvet cushions faced Lady Hastings’s casket. Fashioned of gleaming wood, her coffin had an ornate breastplate, scrolled grips, and at least a half-dozen escutcheons. Afterward, the lady would be laid to rest in the exclusive Kensal Green cemetery.

With private disgust, Pippa noted the thread of titillation that wove through the crowd. Splashed on the front pages of all the newspapers, the gruesome murder had drawn curious onlookers in droves. Those who’d snubbed Julianna Hastings in life had no qualms salivating over her in death. Pippa’s chest tightened: from personal experience, she knew that marrying above one’s station, even for love, didn’t erase one’s middling class roots. Although she was not ashamed of her origins, she’d nonetheless worked hard to be a countess worthy of her husband’s name.

Edwin hadn’t paid much notice to her efforts…except to note her shortcomings.

Are you certain that frock iscomme il faut, my dear?

There will be many true artists at the soiree, so do refrain from discussing your dabbling with paints, hmm?

As Mama says, a lady should be seen and not heard.

Wanting to please him, Pippa had redoubled her efforts, not realizing how, with each comment and underhanded criticism, he’d whittled down her self-confidence.

She yanked off the tentacles of the past and focused on Viscount Hastings, who was posed by the casket. For a bereaved widower, he looked rather dapper and well-rested. His black armband glinted against his dark coat, his hair bright as a guinea as he received condolences from a long line of well-wishers.

What a repugnant fraud, Pippa seethed.

“While Hastings is occupied, let’s see what we can learn from the servants,” Livy whispered. “I’ll talk to the lady’s maid over there. She looks like one of the few genuinely mourning her mistress. Perhaps she knows something useful.”

Pippa nodded. “I’ll find the butler.”

They were on a reconnaissance mission to find evidence of Hastings’s guilt. If anyone knew the state of affairs between master and mistress, it would be the servants.

Pippa found the butler in the antechamber. She’d taken stock of him when he let her and Livy in earlier. A tall, strapping man with greying hair at the temples, he had a distinguished bearing that suited his role as the male head of the staff. His face was carved with deep lines; shadows hung beneath his dark, rather piercing eyes.

Taking advantage of the lull, Pippa approached him. “Pardon me, sir…”

“It is Wood, my lady.” His deep voice had a soothing quality. “May I be of assistance?”

Calling upon her training, she summoned creditable tears. “I seem to have forgotten my handkerchief. How silly of me, given the occasion…”

“Here you are, my lady.” Wood slipped her a spare handkerchief with a circumspection that attested to his professional skill.

“Thank you, sir.” She dabbed at her eyes. “I…I’m not usually a watering pot. But Lady Hastings and I were friends, and seeing her that way…”

Was that grief flashing through the butler’s eyes? A moment later, his gaze shuttered.

“The situation would distress anyone, let alone a lady with delicate sensibilities,” he said gravely. “Beg pardon, I had not realized that you and Lady Hastings were close.”

“It was a recent friendship. We met at a ladies’ function,” Pippa improvised. “She and I had much in common, given our backgrounds.”

The butler’s expression softened a fraction. “I see.”

Sniffling, Pippa asked, “Have you served the household long?”

“Not long, my lady. But I have known Lady Hastings since she was a girl, having been in her father’s employ for nearly two decades. After Mr. Turner passed, Lady Hastings offered me this position.”

Which meant Wood was a longtime retainer of the Turner family and likely loyal to Julianna rather than her husband.

Taking a gamble, Pippa said, “Lady Hastings and I confided in one another about our disappointments. Knowing her as well as you did, perhaps you were aware of her concerns?”

Wood’s posture tensed. “Her concerns, madam?”

“She told me that things were not…as they should be between her and Lord Hastings. And she seemed rather fearful of him. Have you, by any chance, noticed anything amiss between them?”

The crevices deepened around Wood’s mouth. He seemed to be fighting himself. Torn, perhaps, between his butler’s code of discretion and his loyalty to the Turners.

“Why do you ask, my lady?” he asked.

“Because I want to see justice served,” Pippa said truthfully.

Wood’s gaze flickered. After a pause, he said in a low voice, “As you said, my lady was not content in her marriage.”

“Did you ever see Lord Hastings threaten her or hurt her in anyway?”

“Not physically. But my lord had a way of cutting her down.”

Pippa’s throat cinched. She knew that words could wound as well as a blade.

“More than once, I found Lady Hastings in tears,” Wood said somberly. “Her lady’s maid observed her distress as well.”

“On the night she was killed, do you know where Lord Hastings was?”

“He was out all night,” Wood said flatly. “He did not return until dawn.”

“Do you know if anyone else might have wished Lady Hastings harm?”

The doorbell rang, and the butler straightened as if remembering his duty.

“I cannot think of anyone. I have said too much as it is.” His bow was rigid. “If you’ll excuse me, my lady.”

“Yes, of course. And Wood…thank you.”

He inclined his head and went to direct the newcomers.

Pippa headed back to the drawing room and reconvened with Livy.

“The lady’s maid said that her master and mistress fought constantly,” Livy whispered. “Lady Hastings was often reduced to tears by her husband’s cruel words.”

“The butler said much the same.” Pippa chewed on her bottom lip. “We need to search the house. Look for evidence to link Hastings to his wife’s murder.”

“But how…”

Just then, Pippa’s gaze collided with Hastings’s. Under ordinary circumstances, the predacious interest in his eyes would have made her skin crawl. Right now, it fueled her resolve.

Pippa drew her shoulders back and donned a come-hither smile.

To Livy, she said softly, “Leave it to me.”

The next evening, Cull met with the physician in a private room of the infirmary. “How is Ollie faring?”

“Better each day,” Dr. Abernathy said. “Four days after the trauma, the lad is beginning to recall snippets of his past. He cannot remember the events surrounding his injury, but this is not unusual. I expect to see improvements day by day.”

Cull nodded. For a quack, Abernathy seemed like a competent and honest fellow. In truth, Cull had only one complaint about the man. Years ago, while recuperating at the Hunts, Cull had been treated by Dr. Abernathy, who he remembered as being a crusty Scot with beetled brows.

ThisAbernathy was the son of the other one, now happily retired. In his twenties, Douglas Abernathy had the sort of clean-cut handsomeness that was a magnet for female attention. During his initial visit, he and Pippa had been full of smiles, chatting like the best of friends.

A dazzled Mrs. Needles had privately said to Cull that she couldn’t believe such a celebrated physician had come to see their Ollie. Apparently, Abernathy was a favorite among the ladies of the Queen’s Court…big surprise there. Cull would bet Abernathy had “attended to” plenty of high-kick ladies. He couldn’t help but wonder if the doctor had ever treated Pippa. The thought of another man seeing her in a state of undress or putting his hands on her, for any reason, shot up the pressure in Cull’s veins.

He’d been ruminating about Pippa and her stunning confessions:

First of all, being with a “toff” won’t make me happy.

Did she truly mean that? She had trusted her body to Cull, but the agreement had only been for one night. When it came to an actual relationship, could she overlook their differences in class?

Being with you made me realize what I’ve been missing all along. What I never felt in my marriage.

Cull noted with frothing fury that Longmere had not only been a lying bastard, but a ham-handed one. Pippa was so sensual and sensitive, and the fact that she’d been deprived of such basic pleasure—and worse yet, had blamed it on herself—made Cull want to punch a wall. It had required all his self-discipline not to go to her, to show her what she’d been missing, what he burned to share with her.

But he couldn’t. His priority had to be finding the villain who’d attacked Ollie and killed Lady Hastings. In doing so, he would also be protecting Pippa. He knew that the chances of her and the Angels standing down were practically nil. Case in point: she and the Duchess of Hadleigh had attended the funeral yesterday, and he’d wager his life’s earnings it wasn’t just to pay their last respects. He had to put an end to the dark business before the Angels got hurt.

On top of that, he had to address the attack on him outside his own headquarters. The larks had tracked down the shooter; yesterday, Cull had gone to have a chat with the bastard. After some “convincing” on Cull’s part that involved exercising his knuckles, the assailant had sung like a bird: Chester Squibb had ordered the attack.

Squibb headed a group of sweeps that cleaned more than chimneys; they were known to steal anything that wasn’t nailed down. The conniving bastard had been looking to expand his gang and no doubt coveted the larks, who were small enough to work as climbing boys and smart enough to collect information and goods.

As much as Cull despised the sweep, an out-and-out war was his last resort. He didn’t want to expose the larks to Squibb’s bloodthirsty band. Which meant Cull had to go about things with care. He had scheduled a meeting with a formidable underworld ally and planned to call in a favor she owed him. When Cull struck, he didn’t want Squibb to get back up.

After Cull took care of Ollie’s attacker and the sweep, then maybe he could see Pippa again. He would have to show her what was behind his mask. If things were to progress between them, he had to be honest with her. Had to ensure that she was making an informed choice to be with him…with his scars and all. And that, he thought bleakly, could stop their affair before it even began.

“I will be back in a few days,” Abernathy said. “If anything changes, send word.”

Cull extended his hand. “Thank you for tending to Ollie.”

“It is my pleasure.” Abernathy’s handshake was firm. “By the by, I saw the basket of treats in the lad’s room. A gift from Miss Pippa—Lady Longmere, I mean to say?”

Cull stiffened at the familiar use of Pippa’s name.

“I have not seen her since my first visit,” Abernathy added.

Nor had Cull. Apparently, she’d paid a visit to Ollie while Cull had been out hunting for information about Squibb.

“Does she visit at a regular time?” Abernathy inquired.

Cull clenched his jaw. “Why do you want to know?”

“Er, no particular reason.” Ruddiness crept over the physician’s chiseled cheekbones. “I used to see her frequently at the Hunt Academy. Before she married. And I wished to inquire how she was doing…health-wise, I mean. Widowhood can take its toll on a lady’s constitution.”

“I will convey your concern,” Cull said evenly.

Speculation entered Abernathy’s eyes. “How did you say you and Lady Longmere met?”

“I didn’t.”

“Ah.” After a pause, the doctor muttered, “I must be on my way. Good evening, sir.”

Bag in hand, Abernathy exited.

Long Mikey showed up a few minutes later.

Cull frowned at the mudlark. “Why aren’t you tailing Lady Longmere like I told you to?”

“Calm your ’orses, I got eyes on ’er. But I thought you’d want to know what she’s up to.”

“What?” Cull asked with foreboding.

Mikey held up his hands. “First, promise you won’t shoot the messenger.”