Pippa and the Prince of Secrets by Grace Callaway

29

The following afternoon, Pippa met up with Livy, Glory, and Fi at Mrs. Quinton’s. The dressmaker’s Bond Street shop was a premiere destination in London; rumor had it that the waiting time to get onto her exclusive clientele list was over a year. Luckily, Mrs. Q, as she was known to intimates, was a friend of Charlie’s, and not only did she dress the Angels in her exquisite fashions, but she also designed some special items for their line of work.

An assistant led the Angels through the front of the shop, which resembled a sunlit forest with its gleaming rosewood counters, emerald velvet upholstery, and gilt-framed looking glasses. They passed through a curtain into a back corridor lined with dressing rooms. At the end of the corridor was a heavy door, which the assistant unlocked with a key. The workroom contained long tables piled with colorful bolts of fabric and tools of the trade. Dressmaker’s forms stood like soldiers along one wall. Against the adjacent wall was a massive ornate wardrobe.

With a wink, the assistant said, “You know the way, my ladies. Mrs. Q is finishing up with a patron and will be with you shortly.”

After the door closed, Pippa and her friends made a beeline for the wardrobe. Opening the carved doors, Pippa parted the hanging clothes to expose the wooden back. Feeling along the side of the panel, she activated the hidden mechanism.

The back of the wardrobe swung open like a door, revealing steps that led downward. The Angels took the path down to the basement, which occupied the same footage as the shop above. The space was brightly lit by wall sconces. Dressmaker forms with garments in various stages of completion shared the area with several worktables.

The tables held objects not commonly found in a dress shop. There were weapons of all kinds, from pistols to daggers to cudgels. Metal components were organized in trays next to assorted frippery, including fans and bonnets. Glass bottles containing liquids in a rainbow of hues occupied a nearby surface. One bottle held a pitch-like substance and was labeled, “Caution: Explosive.”

“I wonder what is inside that bottle,” Glory mused.

Perched on her shoulder, her ferret tilted its head in shared curiosity.

As she reached for the bottle, the rest of them lunged forward. Fiona got there first and swatted Glory’s hand aside.

“Lud, Glory,” Fi exclaimed. “The label is supposed to deter you from opening it.”

Glory looked perplexed. “Then why make the label so intriguing?”

Fi’s gaze veered heavenward. “Just refrain from touching things. Recall what happened here the last time.”

“How was I supposed to know that the canon was loaded?” Glory grumbled.

Nonetheless, she left the bottle alone, the rest of them exhaling with relief.

“While we’re waiting,” Livy said, “tell us what you discovered in Hertfordshire, Pippa.”

Pippa summarized the findings with Morton.

“This morning, I showed Charlie the letter Cull found. She confirmed the handwriting matched that of the notes she had from Lady Hastings,” Pippa finished. “So now we know Morton and Lady Hastings were having an affair. While Morton didn’t act like a homicidal villain—”

“Which would make him an excellent homicidal villain,” Fi noted.

“Indeed. That is why Cull has mudlarks monitoring him. If Morton does anything suspicious, we’ll know.”

“The two of you certainly made progress,” Livy said.

In more ways than one,Pippa thought with secret delight.

Only a day had passed, and she already missed Cull. Couldn’t wait until he completed his business and they could be together again. Yet she wouldn’t mope about it; she was busy too.

“Any luck with Ellis?” she asked the other Angels.

“Ellis is as slippery as a greased pig,” Glory replied. “Thus far, we’ve discovered he uses a variety of pseudonyms and has left a trail of wealthy lovers in his wake. Currently, we’ve followed that trail to a Lady Effingworth; from what we’ve gathered, she and her husband are currently at their country seat in Lancashire.”

“If both the Effingworths are there, then it’s unlikely that Ellis is there as well…” Pippa trailed off, seeing her friends exchange glances. “Isn’t it?”

Fiona cleared her throat delicately. “From what we’ve gathered, Vincent Ellis has been a companion to several, ahem, couples.”

Pippa blinked. “Oh.”

Her cheeks rosy, Glory added, “Charlie has sent Mrs. Peabody to Lancashire to investigate.”

Just then, steps sounded, and Mrs. Q descended the stairs. Dressed in a black frock that showcased the simple elegance for which she was known, the modiste came toward them with a smile. She was a handsome and curvaceous woman in her thirties, with light-brown skin and keen, tawny eyes.

She exchanged air kisses with each of them. “Sorry to keep you waiting, my dears.”

“We don’t mind, Mrs. Q,” Pippa said. “We were discussing our current case.”

“Ah, yes. Lady Charlie told me about it. Two murders, no less.” Mrs. Q shuddered. “It is no wonder she requested that I outfit you with some new designs.”

“May we see them?” Livy’s eyes sparkled with the excitement all the Angels felt.

Shopping at Mrs. Q’s was a guaranteed adventure.

“Indeed. Come this way.”

The modiste led them over to a dressmaker’s form, which displayed a white linen corset shaped like a vest. Embellished with lace and pink ribbon, the undergarment was pretty but unremarkable. Mrs. Q picked a knife up from a table, its sharp blade glinting.

Handing it to Pippa, she instructed, “Stab the corset as hard as you can.”

Pippa grasped the handle and plunged the blade into the corset, tearing the delicate fabric.

“Again, if you please,” Mrs. Q said.

After Pippa stabbed the corset several more times, the modiste halted her and unlaced the garment. Pulling the corset free, Mrs. Q gestured to the wooden dummy.

“What do you see, Angels?”

Gasps of disbelief went up. The smooth, polished surface of the dummy didn’t bear a single nick, scratch, or dint from the blade.

Pippa drew her brows together. “How can that be…?”

“Chainmail.” Holding up the corset, Mrs. Q widened the tears in the linen, exposing the layer of delicate metal links beneath. “I took an ancient idea and adapted it for modern use. Mr. Q helped, of course.”

Mr. Q, the dressmaker’s adoring husband, was a master blacksmith who collaborated on many of his wife’s projects.

“How utterly brilliant,” Pippa breathed.

Mrs. Q accepted her due with a nod. “We experimented with various metals to see which would provide the strongest protection with the lightest weight. This corset is no heavier than its whalebone counterpart. Not to mention, it gives an excellent shape to the figure. But, come, I have more to show you.”

The Angels spent the next half-hour marveling over Mrs. Q’s innovations. Garter belts that doubled as explosive devices, fans with razor-sharp edges, and reticules with hidden compartments numbered among the inventor’s creations. Then they came to more dressmaker’s forms, these ones wearing some of the most beautiful evening gowns Pippa had ever seen. Cut in the latest silhouette with fitted, elongated torsos and full skirts, each of the dresses was unique and spectacular.

“How lovely.” Sighing, Fiona stroked a sapphire blue ballgown with an overlay of glittery silver netting. “What are these dresses designed to do?”

“These are the most important weapons of your arsenal. They are for catching husbands,” Mrs. Q said with a wink. “Or, if you already have one, enticing him.”

The Angels laughed. Fi, Glory, and Livy dashed behind the nearby dressing screens to try on the sublime creations. Pippa lingered behind, wistfully studying a gown that was the color of the last hour of sunlight. She had once loved painting subjects bathed in that rich, golden hue.

“That dress is made of shot-silk from China and suits you perfectly,” Mrs. Q said. “Why don’t you try it on, my lady?”

“But I am in mourning,” Pippa said in surprise.

She’d worn her widow’s weeds today. It was one thing to abandon mourning clothes in private, another to do so in public. And trying on such an extravagant dress, even in front of friends…she felt an odd prickle of panic, as if she were tempting fate by flaunting her newfound happiness.

“You look improved since I last saw you.” Like any modiste who’d reached her level of success, Mrs. Q had an unerring instinct for reading her clients. “The light is back in your eyes. And if I am not mistaken, the spark of love as well?”

Pippa’s cheeks warmed. So much for hiding her affair.

“I…I have met someone, Mrs. Q,” she confessed. “Is that terribly scandalous?”

“You are part of a covert female society that investigates murders”—Mrs. Q arched her brows—“and you worry that being in love is scandalous?”

“You have a point,” Pippa said, chuckling.

“Life is short, my dear. Do not waste it worrying about what others might think. I have always admired you Angels for going after your hearts’ desires.”

Pippa looked at the golden gown. Imagined Cull’s reaction to seeing her in it.

“Thank you for the advice, Mrs. Q,” she said. “And I would love to try on the dress.”

“I want a word wif you, Cullen!” Squibb bellowed as he stood in front of the Nest. “Get your arse out ’ere!”

Looking down from the glasshouse, Cull thought, Right on time.

He’d been expecting Squibb. Mrs. Kent had been true to her word: her friend Alfie had seen to it that Squibb’s goods were no good anywhere in London. The sweep had tried pawnshops one after another, to no avail. Apparently, Squibb wasn’t as dim-witted as Cull believed; it had only taken the bastard three days to figure out who was responsible.

“Are you really goin’ out there, Cull?” Fair Molly asked.

“I am. Time to finish this business.”

As the birds squawked around him, Cull walked the perimeter of the aviary, counting off the enemies in the deepening dusk. Squibb had only brought five men…which Cull took as a sign of the sweep’s dwindling power. True loyalty couldn’t be bought with money. The moment Squibb’s funds were cut off, he was done.

Exactly as Cull had planned.

“How many men do you see?” he asked.

“Two wif Squib, three in the surrounding alleyways,” Molly said promptly.

“Good eyes. Now, remember the plan?”

“Station larks at the windows and entrances. We fire first if any o’ the bastards make a move,” Molly recited. “Most importantly, we ’ave each other’s backs and fight as a team.”

“Excellent.” Cull checked his pistol, shoved a pair of blades in his boots. Then he placed a hand on Molly’s shoulder. “If anything happens to me, you’re in charge until Long Mikey gets back.”

Worry flickered in Molly’s amber eyes. “Nothing’s goin’ to ’appen to you, is it?”

“No,” he said firmly. “Now assemble the larks.”

Fair Molly dashed off to organize the troops. Cull returned to the front of the glasshouse; from his bird’s-eye view, Squibb was the size of a gnat, and it was time to get rid of the annoyance. After that, the larks would be safe…and Cull could see Pippa again.

Christ, he missed her. After the intimacy of their trip, three days apart felt like an eternity. He still couldn’t believe that she had accepted his duties as prince. She hadn’t made a fuss or given him an ultimatum; instead, she’d offered him an incentive.

“After you’re done with Squibb, let’s celebrate with a quiet supper at my house,” she’d said. “I want you to stay the night. And I want to wake up in your arms.”

She exceeded his wildest fantasies with her strength and passion. Her willingness to accept him as he was. Even though he would never be a toff, he would work to be a partner worthy of Pippa. Someone who she would consider a real future with. Who she might even…marry.

First things first, however. Time to dispense with Squibb.

Cull descended the stairs. In the great hall, the larks were armed and ready. They gave him brave nods, and he nodded back. As their leader, he didn’t believe in hiding the threats against them. They had to know what they were up against in the world. They also had to know that, no matter what, mudlarks stood together. Faced their enemies and shared their triumphs as one.

At the threshold, he turned and looked at them all. “We don’t go looking for trouble, but we don’t run away from it either. What is our motto?”

“A wrong against me you’ll regret, but a favor to me I’ll ne’er forget,”the larks chanted.

“We fight together and fight strong,” Cull declared. “Let’s show our enemies what happens when they challenge the mudlarks.”

Cheering shook the rafters. Cull went to the door, saying to Molly, “Lock this behind me.”

The street was quiet, but Cull felt the eyes on him and Squibb from behind shuttered windows. The Devil’s Acre was watching. Waiting. Wagering on the outcome.

Stocky and bow-legged, Squibb had eyes like cloves pressed into the doughy folds of his face. He wore a tall velvet hat and a wine-colored frock coat that didn’t have a speck of soot on it…no surprise there. The sweep had others do his dirty work. Case in point: the two lumbering brutes behind him. One had hair, the other didn’t, and they had a full set of teeth and a single brain between them. They sneered, cracking their knuckles.

“What do you want, Squibb?” Cull said.

“You know why I’m ’ere,” Squibb spat. “Because o’ you, my merchandise ain’t good anywhere. All the pawnshops are refusing my goods!”

“What makes you think I am behind this?” Cull asked mildly.

“Because it’s your bloody way o’ retaliating—” Squibb cut himself off. While the sweep had bacon for brains, even he must have realized that admitting to hiring a cutthroat to kill Cull wouldn’t support his stance as the injured party.

“Go on,” Cull said. “What am I retaliating for?”

“I ain’t got time to argue wif you like a bleeding barrister,” Squibb snarled. “You destroyed the livelihood o’ me and my gang, and I demand payment.”

“You’ll get nothing from me but what you deserve,” Cull said with lethal precision. “If you’re wise, you will take your motley crew and leave—and never set foot on mudlark territory again.”

“I tried to reason wif you, everyone ’eard me.” Vicious intent glinted in the sweep’s beady eyes. “You left me no choice. Get ’im, boys!”

The brutes came at him, but Cull was quicker. He evaded the bald one and plowed his fist into the other’s gut. The man groaned, doubling over. Baldy came at Cull again, swinging his ham-sized fists. Ducking, Cull went on the offensive, tackling the other to the ground. He gained the upper hand, pounding his opponent’s face into the dirt.

He heard a shot go off, then another. Cries of pain erupted from the alleyways. His larks had taken care of the hidden assailants—had come through as he’d known they would.

Cull’s nape tingled, and he rolled off his unconscious opponent in the nick of time. The other brute’s blade cut through the air where he’d been a moment earlier. Cull unsheathed his own blades, he and his foe circling one another. He had an eye on Squibb too, knowing the blighter was weighing the wisdom of trying to shoot Cull while dozens of guns were aimed at him from the Nest.

The brute charged, his knife flashing high. Cull went low, the other’s blade whispering by him while he swept his own steel in a sideways arc. He felt his blade sink into flesh, felt the spurting warmth as his enemy let out an agonized cry. The man fell to his knees, clutching the wound on his side.

Knife dripping, Cull stood over him. The man looked up, fear and pain carved on his features.

“You won’t die if you get help now,” Cull said.

The man’s eyes widened. Then he surged to his feet, groaning as he stumbled away.

Cull heard a click and spun around. Squibb had a flintlock aimed straight at him. An instant later, a shot exploded, and Squibb screamed as the bullet hit his hand, sending his weapon skittering across the dirt.

Cull spared a quick glance at the Nest, where Molly gave him a jaunty salute from a window.

Then Cull advanced toward Squibb, who backed away, clutching his shattered hand.

“I d-don’t want no trouble,” the sweep stammered.

“I told you that you would get what you deserve,” Cull said softly. “Yet you stayed.”

Squibb stumbled backward. “I-I’ll leave now. I swear, I won’t bother you again.”

“Will you send cutthroats to murder me?” Cull held up his bloodied knife, seeing it gleam in Squibb’s terrified eyes. “Try to take over my gang?”

“Never again, I swear it. I-I’m sorry.” The coward fell on his knees, blubbering. “’Ave mercy, Prince. I’m begging you.”

When Cull raised the knife, Squibb whimpered, the stink of his piss filling the air. Cull brought the blade down…into the sweep’s tall hat. Squibb’s gaze rolled upward, and he gave a moan, crumpling onto the ground.

The lily-livered bastard had fainted, although Cull hadn’t even nicked him.

Shaking his head, Cull retrieved his blade, unskewered Squibb’s hat, and tossed it aside. He assessed Squibb’s remaining men, who were wounded but alive. They were looking at their leader, swooned in his own urine, their faces reflecting the disgust that Cull felt. He knew that gossip was spreading like wildfire behind the shuttered windows and closed doors.

By morning, everyone would know of Squibb’s spinelessness and defeat. The sweep was done in the underworld. Cull had achieved his goal, and he’d done it with minimal casualties.

“Mudlarks never forget a wrong.” He let his voice carry through the streets. “Next time, we’ll show no mercy.”

Cheers and whoops erupted from the Nest, the doors opening for their prince’s return.