Pippa and the Prince of Secrets by Grace Callaway

15

“Would you care for some wine, my dear?” Hastings asked.

Pippa bent her lips into an inviting smile. “That would be lovely.”

As the viscount sauntered to the cabinet of spirits, Pippa took a quick survey of his suite. Gaining access to his home had been surprisingly simple. Yesterday, she’d approached him at the funeral. Feigning empathy, she’d told him how terribly lonely she felt after her own spouse’s death. She’d added a few touches on his arm here and there. Like a lion sensing prey, Hastings had pounced. Before she knew it, he’d invited her over for a private tête-à-tête tonight so that they could “console” one another.

As Hastings prowled back toward her, she thought he suited the room’s jungle-like ambiance with its tall potted plants and heavy wood furniture. He had a sleek, predatory air in his wine-colored smoking jacket, his blond hair slicked back from his widow’s peak. Once again, Pippa was struck by his resemblance to her dead husband. The feline elegance and lordly manner…the trail of dark secrets he oozed in his wake.

He sat next to her on the damask settee, his thigh brushing her skirts. Since the night’s theme was seduction, she had worn an evening gown of deep-plum taffeta that left her shoulders bare, the overskirt parting to reveal a flounced black underskirt. Her hair was arranged in ringlets, and she’d accessorized with a necklace and pair of earbobs made of jet.

Hastings handed her a goblet, purring, “To new friends.”

“New friends.” She touched her glass to his and took a drink of the ruby liquid.

Setting his glass down on the low table, he stretched his arm across the back of the settee, the hairs on her skin rising at his closeness. “I am surprised you came tonight.”

Faced with his probing gaze, she said innocently, “Did you think I would not?”

“To be frank, I have been interested in your friendship for some time. I was under the impression that you did not prefer my company.”

I would prefer walking over hot coals. Luckily, she’d prepared a story.

“After a year of mourning, I have been feeling rather lonely. I thought perhaps…perhaps we might find some comfort in each other’s company.” She bit her lip and willed herself to blush. “Am I being too forward, my lord?”

“Not at all. And please, call me Jeremy.”

“Jeremy.” Even his name felt oily on her tongue. “Both of us have lost someone dear. It gives us something in common, don’t you think?”

A flash of anger—at his wife?—passed through his eyes; it was quickly smothered.

“It does lend a certain depth to our acquaintance.” He smirked at her. “You’ll find I am a man who enjoys deep connections.”

What a disgusting pig.

She drained her glass, holding it out to him. “Would you mind, Jeremy?”

“It would be my pleasure,” he said smoothly.

As he headed for the spirits cabinet, Pippa removed the tiny vial from the hidden pocket of her skirts. Leaning forward, she dumped the contents into his glass, the crystals fizzing as they dissolved into the wine. She shoved the vial back into her pocket just as he returned.

“Thank you.” She took the glass he held out and said confidingly, “I think I have a bit of nerves. It has been quite some time since I’ve had, um, company.”

Lust glittered in his gaze. “How long?”

“I have only ever kept company with my husband.”

At his predacious smile, she knew she’d pinned him correctly as a man who enjoyed defiling innocence. He ran a finger along her bare shoulder, and she hoped her shiver would pass for one of interest.

She held up her glass. “Cheers to new adventures.”

“Bottoms up,” he drawled.

This time, she sipped while he drained his beverage. He took both their glasses and deposited them on the coffee table. Catching her jaw in his hand, he pressed his mouth to hers. She managed not to recoil as his tongue probed her lips. As his hands roamed.

“No need to be shy,” he murmured.

Buy a few more minutes until the drug kicks in.

She pushed at his shoulders. “I…I think I heard something. Downstairs.”

“There is no one here but you and me. As you requested, I dismissed the servants for the eve.” His gaze slitted, showing the thinness of the charming veneer that hid the reptile beneath. “I went to rather a lot of trouble for you, Pippa.”

And you had better give me what I want. His unspoken threat billowed Pippa’s anger.

Was this how Julianna had felt? Cornered and helpless, no way of escaping except through capitulation? In the end, she’d paid the ultimate cost for trusting her heart to the wrong man. The image of Julianna lying in the casket flared in Pippa’s mind. The lady had not looked peaceful in death. The undertaker’s art couldn’t hide the beginnings of putrefaction, greenish-black vines creeping into her face and hands. Her violet, musk, and ambergris scent had held notes of rot.

We’ll bring your killer to justice, Julianna,Pippa thought fiercely. So that you may rest in peace.

Aloud, Pippa said, “I appreciate your efforts. Might we go to the bedchamber?”

Hastings’s laugh skittered down her spine. “That is an excellent suggestion. Come, my sweet.”

As she took the smooth, manicured hand he offered, she was reminded of Cull’s touch. The honest strength of his callused hands, which had shown her such pleasure. She hadn’t seen or heard from him since their last encounter at the Nest. She wondered what he would do if he knew what she was up to…and shivered.

What you do is none of his business, she chided herself. Concentrate on your mission.

In a practiced move, Hastings maneuvered her upon the bed. His weight pressed her into the mattress, his mouth wet and heavy on hers. She moaned in pretended delight, waiting for the drug to take effect. Was it her imagination or did he feel heavier, as if his muscles were relaxing?

She took advantage, rolling atop him. He looked up at her with glazed eyes.

“Allow me,” she said in a sultry voice and began to unbutton his jacket.

“Eager wench, aren’t you?” His words were slurred, his pupils dilated. “Well, prepare for the biggest, hardest…”

His eyelids closed before she got to the final button.

About dashed time.

She continued undressing him, huffing a little as she turned him over to tug off his clothes, tossing them on the ground as if they’d been removed in a passionate frenzy. Pulling down his smalls, she had to roll her eyes; Hastings’s opinion of himself and his manhood were obviously inflated. Throwing a blanket over his naked form, she raced out of the chamber. She descended to the main floor, taking the servants’ stairs down to the kitchens, where she opened the back door.

Her fellow Angels were waiting, dressed to blend in with the cover of night.

“How did things go?” Livy asked as Glory and Fi trooped in behind her.

“The sleeping draught worked like a charm,” Pippa replied. “When he awakes, he’ll think he fell asleep after a tumble. The draught only lasts an hour, so we had better hurry.”

Livy stuck her hand out, the other Angels doing the same.

“Sisters first.”They whispered their motto before splitting up.

Pippa and Glory went to search the upstairs floor while the other two made a beeline for Hastings’s study.

“Lady Hastings’s suite is on the left,” Pippa whispered.

With a nod, Glory turned toward the lady’s chamber and Pippa returned to Hastings’s.

The suspect remained snoring on the bed. Pippa worked stealthily, methodically going through his bedchamber and dressing room. Despite Hastings’s dire financial straits, he spared no expense when it came to himself. His fashions were of the highest quality, and he had more cravats than a dog had fleas. Her eyebrows rose at what she found beneath his stockings in a bottom drawer: a stash of opium and a volume titled Miss Fanny and the House of Flagellation.

Hearing a moan from the bed, Pippa hurried back to check on him. Luckily, Hastings had merely turned on his side, snoring again. She tiptoed to his desk, scribbling a note to thank him for the “unforgettable night” before meeting Glory at the stairs.

“I didn’t find anything,” she said in a low voice. “You?”

Glory’s russet ringlets swung as she shook her head. “Someone must have gone through Lady Hastings’s room. All her personal effects are gone. I hope the others had better luck.”

They found their friends in the study. Livy and Fi were at Hastings’s desk, studying documents laid out on the blotter.

Seeing their pleated brows, Pippa asked, “What are you reading?”

Livy looked up, her eyes troubled. “It appears to be a codicil to Jonas Turner’s will.”

“And it explains how Viscount Hastings convinced the inspectors that he did not have motive to kill his wife,” Fiona said starkly.

Pippa followed her friends out the back door into the gated garden.

“Hawker’s meeting us around the corner,” Glory began.

She broke off as a shadow separated from a tree and blocked their path. Pippa’s training kicked in, her hands coming up in a fighting stance. Her fellow Angels adopted similar postures. Pippa’s heart knocked against her ribs when she recognized Cull.

“Dash it, what are you doing here?” she said in a fierce whisper.

“I could ask you the same.” His voice was calm, but his eyes glowed like molten ore in his mask. “That is a conversation better had in private. Come, my carriage is waiting.”

“She is not going anywhere with you,” Glory said, her fists still up.

“You will have to take on all of us,” Fiona warned.

“Heaven forbid.” Although Cull’s mouth curved faintly, there was a challenge in his eyes as he looked at Pippa. “I suppose the lady will have to come with me of her own volition, won’t she?”

It was so like him to make it her choice. To know that she couldn’t resist.

Pippa blew out a breath and tried to sound annoyed. “Very well.”

“Are you certain it’s safe?” Livy said in an undertone.

“She will always be safe with me,” Cull stated.

Aiming her gaze heavenward at his proprietary tone, Pippa said to her friends, “I know what I’m doing. Report back to Charlie, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”