Pippa and the Prince of Secrets by Grace Callaway

26

Pippa giddily counted the minutes until Cull’s carriage arrived at noon the next day. Long Mikey brought the equipage discreetly into the lane behind her cottage, Matches hopping down with surprising grace to let down the steps. Pippa smiled at the mudlarks, trying not to seem overeager as she climbed into the cabin. Cull was waiting for her, and he’d forgone his mask. Seeing him as he was, with a hint of vulnerability in his expressive eyes, she abandoned all pretenses.

“I missed you,” she blurted.

His crooked smile made her heart thump faster, and then she was in his arms, his kiss rendering her light-headed. She didn’t know the carriage had started moving until they came up for air.

“We’d better stop,” Cull murmured, rubbing his thumb along her bottom lip. “Or I’ll be tempted to take you here and now.”

Daringly, she flicked her tongue at his thumb. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Jesus wept, don’t tempt a man like that.” He looked so pained that she giggled. “Not when we’re with two nosy larks who are probably eavesdropping.”

Oops. She’d forgotten about Mikey and Matches.

With a regretful sigh, Cull tucked her firmly against his side. He laced their hands together and settled them on his lap. “Distract me, please.”

She started by filling him in on the visit to the New Cytherea.

“The night he died, Hastings showed up at the theatre, asking a lot of questions. That was why he had the portrait of his wife: to see if anyone recognized her. When no one did, he demanded to speak with those who’d been working there during the production of The Grove of Love. Apparently, he let slip that he’d found the program in his wife’s belongings.”

Cull lifted his brows. “What was Lady Hastings doing at a place like the New Cytherea?”

“It is becoming clear that she had a private life we knew nothing about.” Pippa chewed on her lip. “I happen to be acquainted with Marg, the theatre’s playwright; her companion used to model for Longmere. Marg said she would try to get me the addresses of the actresses who had parts in The Grove of Love.”

“That’s progress. Louis Wood, in the meantime, hasn’t had a hair out of place. I think he knows he’s being watched,” Cull said.

“According to the other Angels, Vincent Ellis has more aliases than a cat has lives, but they are working on tracking him down. And perhaps you and I will uncover critical information when we interview Howard Morton. Will we head to his residence straight away?”

“Actually, I thought we could deal with him in the morning. There is something I want to show you tonight. Did you pack an outfit suitable for rambling?”

Yesterday, Cull had sent her a brief note, telling her he’d made all the arrangements for their trip. He’d told her to pack for two nights and bring an outfit suitable for exploring the outdoors. He’d given no further explanation.

Brimming with curiosity, she said, “Yes, but why do I need it? What are we doing?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Will you at least give me a clue?”

“It is something I haven’t shared with anyone else.” He raised her hand, brushing his lips over her knuckles, swirling heat over her skin. “Something I want to share with you.”

Drat the man. Now she really couldn’t wait.

Correctly interpreting her expression, he chuckled. “I can’t do it justice with words, anyway. You have to see it for yourself, sunshine, and you will soon enough.”

Their destination turned out to be a secluded country estate a few miles from Amwell. Massive oak trees, robed in golden autumn splendor, lined the drive, which led to a charming ivy-covered manor. When Cull helped Pippa alight, she was surprised to see a handful of servants waiting to greet them.

“Who are we staying with?” she whispered.

“No one. The place is mine,” Cull said. “Bought it a few years back.”

She took in the picturesque property and acres of land that stretched beyond it. “This all belongs to you?”

“I’m not a pauper,” he said mildly.

Clearly not. Charlie had mentioned that he was in much demand and commanded a princely sum for his services. Accustomed to his unassuming ways, however, Pippa sometimes forgot that he must be a wealthy man.

“Tillie will take you to your room and help you get changed,” he said. “But don’t take long. We want to get out there before dusk.”

“Get out where?”

But he had already headed off with Long Mikey and Matches.

Equal parts exasperated and intrigued, Pippa followed Tillie, a chatty country girl, into the manor. The interior was as charming as the exterior. The theme of the decorating appeared to be rustic comfort, with overstuffed furnishings and thick Axminster rugs of gold, sage, and maroon. Pippa glimpsed a sitting nook by the window, piled with cushions and perfect for reading or sketching. How long had it been since she’d enjoyed a carefree day with a book or with her drawing pencils?

Tillie led her into a light-filled bedchamber, the walls charmingly stenciled with a vine design. With the maid’s help, Pippa refreshed herself and changed into an old blue promenade dress and sturdy half-boots. She donned an Italian straw hat in the Marie Stuart shape, which Suzette had fancifully trimmed with ruched tulle and blue silk flowers.

Checking her reflection, she thought she looked rather well. Her eyes twinkled, and her cheeks were tinted pink with excitement. She hurried back downstairs and found Cull waiting for her in the foyer. He looked brawny and dapper in a brown jacket and checkered waistcoat, his trousers tucked into tall boots.

“Beautiful and punctual,” he said. “There’s a rare combination.”

She blushed. His sincerity made it impossible not to.

“There is only an hour until dusk, so we’d best be on our way,” he added.

He hefted up a large, covered basket and took her hand with a spontaneity that swelled her throat. She was rooted on the spot, aware of his callused hold, the way his fingers linked with hers.

He cocked his head. “Is something amiss?”

She didn’t know how to tell him that no other man had held her hand in public before. Edwin had offered her his arm, of course, but he hadn’t been one for what he termed “vulgar public displays.” She hadn’t thought holding hands was vulgar; growing up, she’d seen her parents do it all the time. But she hadn’t shared her logic with Edwin for fear that it would deepen his contempt for her middle-class upbringing.

“No,” she said softly. “Everything is fine.”

With you, everything feels...right.

Hand in hand, they walked through a quaint maze of overgrown rose-bushes behind the house to the woods beyond. The warmth of the day made it feel more like summer than late autumn. Oaks and silver birches formed a thick grove, mellow sunshine filtering through the branches. A carpet of moss and fallen leaves padded their steps, wildlife rustling and birds chirping in the background. The air smelled of earth, foliage, and a hint of woodsmoke.

“It is so peaceful here,” Pippa said in wonder. “A different world from London.”

“The estate is my escape,” Cull replied. “Although I don’t get out here as often as I would like. Autumn is my favorite time.”

She took in the beauty around her, her mind translating it into brushstrokes of umber, ochre, and grey. “I should like to paint it one day.”

She’d spoken without thinking, and her heart skipped a beat as she realized that she might have overstepped. They were supposed to be having a casual affair, yet she’d brought up the future. Implied that she expected to return here with him. How would he respond?

He squeezed her hand and said easily, “We’ll come back. When we don’t have a murder investigation hanging over our heads.”

Relief flowed through her. “I would like that.”

She would, so very much. The truth was it was getting harder to imagine a future without Cull in it. To not develop an attachment to this man who held her hand and planned surprises for her, protected children and wounded birds, and treated her like a princess. Yet this was supposed to be a carefree liaison. He’d told her he had nothing to offer but the moment…and wasn’t that what she wanted too? Fun, freedom, and pleasure without consequences?

Don’t make the same mistakes,she told herself. Enjoy the moment.

It wasn’t difficult to lose herself in the joy of being with Cull, ambling through the woods with him hand-in-hand. They came upon a clearing, where a small building—a gamekeeper’s cottage, perhaps—stood near the edge of a pond. Reeds, rushes, and sedge grew thickly at the water’s edge. The sun was beginning to sink toward the horizon, rendering the sky in vivid strokes of purple, pink, and orange.

It was another scene that made her itch to paint.

“Cull, this is beautiful,” she murmured. “What a lovely surprise.”

“This isn’t the surprise,” he said.

He set down the basket on a grassy spot by the cottage. Opening the lid, he removed a blanket and spread it on the ground. He helped her to sit, settling next to her.

She gave him a quizzical smile. “If this isn’t the surprise, then what is?”

The answer came not from him, but from a burst of energy and movement that made her gasp. Out of nowhere, thousands of starlings—nay, tens of thousands of them—shot into the sky. They flew in perfect synchrony, their tiny bodies merging to form an ever-changing array of shapes. Dipping and soaring, the birds moved as one unbreakable whole, their flapping wings as loud as ocean waves crashing against a shore.

Awe pounded in Pippa’s chest. She couldn’t find the words to express what she was feeling. The majesty and magic of what she was witnessing and how alive it made her feel.

“It’s the most magnificent thing I’ve ever seen,” she said, her voice cracking.

“Yes, it is.”

Tearing her gaze from the aerial display, she saw that Cull wasn’t watching the starlings. He was looking at her. His gaze warm, he reached out and thumbed away a tear that she hadn’t realized had escaped. She wanted to say something, to tell him what it meant to her to be sitting here with him, but she was too overcome.

He slung an arm around her shoulders, tucking her close.

“You don’t want to miss the rest,” he murmured.

Together, they watched the sky. The feathered dance shifted across the heavens, morphing into helices, pyramids, and countless other breathtaking shapes. The birds twirled and dipped, their feathers flashing iridescent ruby and gold in the last rays of the sun. The show was beautiful and wild and mysterious; just as quickly as it began, it was over. The sky went still again, shades of mauve bleeding into the violet horizon.

“Show’s done for the evening,” Cull said. “What did you think?”

Her pulse raced at his expression. The brutality of his scars made the joy in his eyes that much rarer. All that Cull had endured had not dimmed his appreciation for life or beauty. For the things that mattered. And he had shared this extraordinary spectacle with her: reminded her of all the reasons life was worth living.

And it was. Like an eruption of wings, a part of her that remained caged by the past broke free. It shattered the bars of self-doubt, regret, and anger into glittering dust. What was left was her: the strong, beating, vital essence of herself.

“I think,” she said steadily, “that I want you. Now.”

Reaching up, she pulled Cull’s mouth to hers.