Pippa and the Prince of Secrets by Grace Callaway
21
Given the discovery at Purdey’s, Charlie placed a priority on investigating Sir Forsythe-Legg. Pippa and Fiona, with the assistance of the mudlarks, were assigned that task the following evening. Although Cull could not take part due to other commitments, he’d invited Pippa to the Nest after the mission for a late supper.
Suzette was helping Pippa to prepare for the night ahead. For her job, Pippa had donned a male disguise, but she wanted something pretty to wear afterward for her first meal with Cull. Looking through her wardrobe, she’d decided to forgo her widow’s weeds in favor of a simple mauve taffeta gown. She would keep up appearances in public; in private, she felt hypocritical expressing on the outside what she no longer felt within.
As Suzette packed up the evening dress and accessories, a note arrived from Fiona.
Dearest Pippa,
Papa is being an absolute tyrant and insisting that I go to the Brambleton ball. I suspect he wants me to make a match with the Earl of Brambleton’s heir—as if I need help securing a husband.
Pippa could imagine the beautiful redhead rolling her eyes.
But Papa is adamant, and I’m afraid you’ll have to undertake tonight’s mission without me.
Regretfully yours,
Fi
Pippa felt a stab of empathy for Fi’s plight. Both their fathers were powerful, self-made men who had risen from London’s underclass. Given the brutality of their pasts, Gavin Hunt and Adam Garrity were ruthless when it came to their enemies…and ruthlessly protective when it came to the ones they loved.
A part of Pippa yearned for the days when she’d been the apple of her papa’s eye. When his gaze had held nothing but proud approval. Perhaps Mama was right, and Papa’s anger was at himself…but Pippa still felt responsible. In his presence, the shame she felt for her stupid choices made avoiding him seem like the better option.
Silently wishing Fiona better luck with Mr. Garrity, Pippa set off to meet with the mudlarks. The location was a shady-looking tavern in Covent Garden called “The Golden Buck.” Her carriage had barely drawn to a halt when the door opened, and Fair Molly clambered in. The mudlark was dressed in her usual male attire, a scruffy cap jammed over her cloud of curls.
Before Pippa could utter a greeting, the adolescent said peremptorily, “You’re late.”
Pippa consulted her watch. “By two minutes.”
“The success o’ a mission depends upon timing.”
The girl’s brusque manner led Pippa to ask, “Have I done something to cause offense?”
Even shaded by the brim of her cap, the girl’s amber eyes glowed with hostility. And it wasn’t the first time; Molly had been less than friendly during Pippa’s visits to the Nest. Pippa had chalked it up to the girl’s concern over Ollie…but perhaps that vein of dislike ran deeper.
“We mudlarks don’t need outsiders butting in.” Fair Molly’s chin jutted out. “We ’andle our own business and don’t need nobody’s ’elp finding Ollie’s attacker.”
“Ollie wasn’t the only one attacked.”
“And since nobody’s paying us to stick our nose in that lady’s business, we ain’t got no cause to do so,” the girl shot back. “Ollie wouldn’t ’ave been ’urt in the first place if ’e ’adn’t been sent on that fool’s errand.”
“That is between you and Cull, is it not?” Pippa said evenly.
Molly’s cheeks flushed, and Pippa could see the girl struggle between her loyalty to her leader and her desire to give Pippa a piece of her mind.
“’E ain’t thinking straight,” Molly muttered. “Not since you came into the picture. You’re a distraction ’e can’t afford.”
There it was: the crux of the animosity. Pippa wondered if Molly might have a bit of a tendre for her fearless leader. Or if it was the strong-as-blood bonds between the mudlarks that made Molly so protective.
Pippa pondered her options. On the one hand, what went on between her and Cull was a private matter. On the other…she liked Fair Molly. She suspected that beneath the adolescent’s prickly attitude lay a fiercely devoted nature. Although Pippa didn’t take Molly’s attacks personally, she wanted to nip them in the bud.
“Cull made the decision to work with my society, and it was a wise choice,” she said mildly. “Combining our resources will help us achieve our common goal. As for the personal connection between Cull and me, I will say this once: he and I have an understanding that is no one’s affair but our own. Out of respect for your position in the mudlark family, Molly, I will tell you that I have no intention of being a distraction or hurting him.”
Molly’s gaze widened, her throat bobbing above her collar. She looked surprised as if she hadn’t expected her concerns to be addressed directly. Then she squared her thin shoulders.
“Your sort can’t ’elp it,” she said with disdain.
Pippa was grateful for the patience honed by years of working at the academy. “Can’t help what, exactly?”
“Being a ’oneypot.” The girl sneered. “With your fancy dresses and come-’ither ways.”
The unfair statement edged Pippa’s temper toward a simmer. “I think you have me mistaken for someone else.”
“Oh, I ain’t mistaken. You and ’er…you could be twins.” Molly’s hands fisted in her lap, emotion seething in her voice. “And when ’e was at ’is lowest, she abandoned ’im. Kicked ’im when ’e was down with ’er fine ’eeled shoe and left ’im bleeding like some mongrel at the side o’ the road. The rotted bitch.”
It took Pippa a few moments to piece together what the adolescent was saying.
“Are you referring to a previous lover of Cull’s?” she asked with a frown.
Molly’s look was gloating. “Didn’t think you were ’is first, did you?”
Although Cull had obviously had lovers before, the truth was Pippa hadn’t thought beyond the present. Or at least, not beyond the twisted thorns of her own past. She’d been so caught up in her own pain that she hadn’t considered Cull’s romantic history. He’d told her that he had only the moment to offer her and hadn’t changed those terms, even after revealing his scars. She’d assumed it was because of his commitment to the mudlarks or his lack of interest in a permanent relationship.
He’d always been so accommodating, so focused on her needs, her pleasure that…
You didn’t think to ask. About him. His past.
Heat scalded Pippa’s cheeks. As tempted as she was to ask about Cull’s mysterious ex-lover, she didn’t. Because she shouldn’t be hearing about this from Molly. If Pippa had learned anything, it was that she wanted honesty and openness in her relationship…which meant this discussion should be happening with Cull.
“As I’ve said, what goes on between Cull and me is private. However, you may rest assured that I hold him in high esteem and would never betray him. You have my word.”
Was it her imagination, or did respect flicker in Molly’s gaze?
“Now, we are not here to discuss your leader behind his back.” Pippa made her tone crisp and professional. “Tell me what you and your team know about the target.”
“Tom Watkins, age forty-three, valet to Sir Forsythe-Legg for the last two years,” Molly said grudgingly. “Got a bone to pick wif ’is employer and apparently starts talking everyone’s ear off ’bout the ‘cheeseparing slavedriver’ once he downs an ale or two. Since ’e was on ’is third pint last I checked, you shouldn’t ’ave any problem getting ’im to sing. But if ’e needs encouragement, coin should do the trick.”
“Thank you.” Pippa reached for the door handle. “I’ll be out shortly.”
“You’d better,” Molly said under her breath. “Or Cull will ’ave my ’ead.”
Leaning against a wall in the great hall, Cull watched from a distance as Pippa read Ollie a story. She had changed out of her disguise and looked a treat in her pale purple frock trimmed with bows, her shiny ringlets glinting in the firelight. The colorful voices she gave to the characters in the book coaxed a giggle from Ollie and the other larks who’d gathered around to listen. Seeing their rapt expressions, Cull felt a pang in his chest.
It was rare for mudlarks to be treated as children, and precious ones at that. Their innocence was often the cost of survival. Case in point: Ollie still had a bandage wrapped around his head and looked like a war survivor. While he was recovering quickly, his memory of the attack hadn’t returned. The lost, scared look that would come over him tightened Cull’s fists with helpless rage.
Yet Pippa’s glowing warmth drew Ollie and the others out of their protective shells. They laughed with her, vied for her tender attention, and Cull could understand why.
Pippa was everything he’d fantasized about…and more.
Not only was she the embodiment of feminine grace, but she also had strength and courage to spare. When she’d arrived an hour ago, she had been giddy with success.
“It took a few coins to joggle his memory, but the valet said Sir John Forsythe-Legg purchased the set of pistols as a gift for a friend. An actor by the name of Vincent Ellis,” Pippa had reported. “Apparently, Sir Forsythe-Legg and his wife were rather ardent admirers of Mr. Ellis, but Mr. Ellis broke off the friendship. That was about six months ago.”
“What do we know about Ellis?”Cull had asked.
“According to the valet, the actor’s main talent lies in his looks. He said Mr. Ellis was an uncommonly handsome brown-haired gentleman with silver eyes…which describes the man I saw with Lady Hastings at The Enchanted Rose. The man who went by the name ‘Thor.’ To be sure, I did a quick sketch of Thor, and the valet confirmed its likeness to Mr. Ellis.”
When Cull had congratulated Pippa on her victory, she’d given credit to Fair Molly.
“Fair Molly’s reconnaissance made the mission go smoothly.” She’d smiled at the mudlark, whose jaw had slackened at the compliment. “She told me what I needed to know to get the valet to talk. She deserves recognition for her excellent work.”
Cull didn’t think he’d seen Fair Molly blush before.
Thanks to Pippa’s efforts, they knew that Vincent Ellis was the man Lady Hastings had been with the night before her murder. And they could link Ellis to the likely murder weapon. All they had to do now was find the bastard. When Pippa told him the Angels would take on Ellis, Cull hadn’t argued. The mudlarks were getting stretched thin between their work on this case, several others, and the situation with Squibb.
Mrs. Needles emerged from one of the corridors, and Cull nearly groaned when he saw who was with her. From the moment he’d introduced the matron to Fanny Grier, the two had got on like a house on fire. They had many shared interests, their favorite being meddling in Cull’s life.
“What are you doing here, Fanny?” he asked warily.
“Can’t I visit my dear friend Mrs. Needles?” Smirking, Fanny cast a too-interested glance over at Pippa, who now held a chortling Sally on her lap. “And it looks like I’m just in time to meet a new friend of yours. Well, well, Timothy. It does appear you’ve developed a taste for finer things.”
“Her ladyship has a way with children, doesn’t she?” Mrs. Needles said, looking pleased. “Does she have any of her own?”
An image of Pippa rounded with child flashed in Cull’s head, and he had to quell a hot, primal pulse of longing.
“No,” he said. “She was only married a year before her husband passed.”
“Pity that.” Mrs. Needles gave him an unsubtle look. “A woman like her ought to have a husband who gives her a nursery of her own.”
Cull huffed out a laugh. “Surely you are not suggesting that I apply for the position?”
“Why not?” Fanny demanded.
“She’s a countess, to start. No lady with her faculties intact would give up a title and privilege for…” He gestured to the chaos around him. “This.”
“You never know until you ask,” Fanny averred.
What was the point when he already knew the answer?
“You both know there’s never been a Princess of Larks,” he said.
“That is just an excuse.” Fanny gave a flippant wave. “How will you end that supposed ‘curse of solitude’ if you don’t even try?”
“While you are the Prince of Larks, you are also a healthy and unmarried man.” Mrs. Needles picked up the argument. “You need to hang up your mask from time to time and make room in your life for yourself.”
“Pippa knows what is behind the mask,” he muttered.
Fanny arched her brows. “Then why are you wearing it now?”
Cull felt his face heat—good thing he was wearing the blasted covering. He’d debated leaving it off; at the last moment before Pippa’s arrival, he’d put it back on. She’d seen his scars, true, but that had been in a shadowy carriage. Here in a well-lit room…
Feeling like an idiot, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Why do the two of you want to see me leg-shackled?”
“We want you to be happy,” Fanny said. “Your life is spent looking after others; it’s time you had someone looking after you. Speaking of which, when was the last time you got a trim? Your hair looks like an overgrown hedge. And why haven’t you seen Grier’s tailor? You’re courting a countess now and had better look the part.”
Cull heaved a sigh.
“Never mind his hair and clothes,” Mrs. Needles murmured. “He ought to collect his ladyship before the children wear her out. By the by, where are you taking her to sup, Cull?”
“We’re dining here.”
The women exchanged alarmed looks.
Peering left and right, Mrs. Needles said in an urgent whisper, “Surely you do not intend to serve her ladyship Mrs. Halberd’s food—”
“Good God, no. I made other arrangements.” He didn’t know whether to be amused or offended that they thought him so lacking in common sense.
“Thank goodness.” The matron patted her heart. “For if anything could ruin a romantic evening, it would be that dragon’s cooking.”
