Pippa and the Prince of Secrets by Grace Callaway

35

Cull paused in the antechamber of the Griers’ house in Belgravia.

“Thank you for supper,” Cull said.

Fanny sent Grier a look.

The grizzled Scot cleared his throat. “You are welcome any time, lad. Now I must, er, see to a matter. Excuse me.”

He strode off. No doubt to give Cull and Fanny privacy.

“I’ll walk you to your carriage,” Fanny said. “I need a breath of air.”

Outside, the tree-lined street was quiet. The fog obscured the stars tonight, and the only light came from the windows of the stately white houses.

“It’s a different world from the one you and I came from.” The night breeze rustled the plum taffeta of Fanny’s skirts, and she looked like she belonged here, on the portico of her grand home. “Never thought I’d be living in a place like this. Some days I can’t believe it.”

“You’ve earned your life.” Cull meant it. “You deserve fine things, Fanny.”

“So do you, Timothy.” She paused. “You did the right thing, writing your sister. Knowing Maisie, she’ll be glad to hear from you.”

This morning, Cull had sat down and penned a letter. It had been the most difficult letter he’d ever written. Asking not only for forgiveness, which he’d done plenty of times before, but for another chance. To be her brother and an uncle to her son. He’d even told her about Pippa. About how, for the first time in his life, he felt deserving of happiness.

After he sent it off, he had experienced instant regret, anxiety gnawing at his gut. His first instinct had been to seek out Pippa…but he couldn’t explain the situation without betraying his promise to Maisie. The only one he could talk to was Fanny. She knew what had happened to his sister. Had helped Maisie through the birth and recovery. Although Maisie had wanted nothing to do with Cull, she’d accepted Fanny’s assistance. Fanny cared about both Maisie and him and could be trusted to give sound advice.

“I hope you’re right,” he said with feeling.

“When am I wrong?” Fanny snorted. “If you’re wise, you’ll take my advice on another matter too: marry that sweetheart of yours.”

Cull felt his lips twitch. “You do like her, don’t you?”

“More importantly, you do. You take after me in that way. We both have excellent taste when it comes to spouses.”

Grinning, Cull said, “Grier’s ears must be burning.”

“The Scot knows how I feel about him.” Fanny gave him a pointed look. “Does your lady know how you feel?”

“She does. And she returns my feelings.” He heard the wonder in his voice; a part of him still couldn’t believe that Pippa loved him back. “She doesn’t care that she is a countess and I’m, well, me. Not only does she accept my duty to the mudlarks, but she also offered to help me with my role.”

“Did she now?”

Fanny sounded as impressed as Cull had felt while discussing mudlark business with Pippa. She turned out to be an excellent listener who gave thoughtful opinions. He had told her about the venture he’d started to improve the futures of his charges. The problem had always been that mudlarks preferred freedom and excitement over respectable drudgery, making them ill-suited for most occupations. What they needed was a job that was exhilarating, made use of their information-gathering abilities, and offered first-rate renumeration.

The idea had struck Cull: why not teach mudlarks to invest in the ’Change?

It might seem outlandish, but he’d seen plenty of men make fortunes from investments…and just as many lose their shirts. The trick, Cull thought, lay in the accurate collection of information and evaluation of risk. The larks had a leg up on the former, but they needed to work on the latter. Thus far, they were managing to break even with the stake Cull had provided. At least they found the work fascinating.

Pippa had come up with a suggestion: Cull should hire experts to train the larks. Given the snobbery Cull had encountered, however, he wasn’t sure anyone would apply for the position. No one he would trust, at any rate. Pippa had advised him to talk to her father, who’d had great success investing on the ’Change. She’d been confident that Hunt would be happy to share his counsel and winning strategies.

“Pippa has the strength of will and heart to be part of the larks,” Cull mused aloud. “And you saw how wonderful she was with the children.”

It was a miracle, but he could picture Pippa living at the Nest with him. Being happy with him. Larks, mayhem, and all.

“Your sweetheart is a rare one. You had better snatch her up before someone else does.”

“That is my plan. But I have a gauntlet to run first.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m having supper with her family tomorrow night.”

Fanny’s face split into a rare smile. “Meeting the in-laws, are you? No wonder you got a haircut and a set of dapper new clothes.”

“Actually, I’ve already met Pippa’s parents. They showed up at her cottage unexpectedly one morning while I was, er, still there.”

Fanny’s eyes bulged. “Gavin Hunt didn’t tear you from limb to limb?”

“He gave me a warning,” Cull said ruefully. “Not that I needed it. I want to treat Pippa right…to make a life with her. I just didn’t think it was possible for a man like me.”

“You’re a good man, Timothy Cullen.” Fanny braced her hands on her waist. “Why wouldn’t it be possible?”

He looked up at the sky, black as the mythical River Styx, no stars in sight. He drew his gaze back to Fanny, was about to share his mam’s words about fate and fortune, the way a man might a funny story…when a movement caught his attention.

Across the street, a shadow separated from a dark tree. The hairs rose on Cull’s nape, instinct driving his hand to his pistol. He whipped it out, twin shots booming in the night.

The assailant let out a groan, crumpling to the ground.

Heart thudding, Cull turned. For an instant, shock paralyzed him. “Fanny?” No, no, no…

He fell onto his knees beside her. Ripping off his neckcloth, he pressed it to the gaping taffeta at her side. Her blood ran over his hands as he shouted for help.