Page 31 of A Royal Kiss & Tell
“No, I don’t know,” Leo had protested. “I don’t know anything. I am not my brother, sir. I am the spare.” That, he thought, was glaringly obvious.
But Lysander stared at him with golden eyes, and Leo had felt as if the man could see to the very bottom of his soul.
“You can’t bring me this news here,” Leo had added quickly. He might not know about these practices, but he knew what sort of uproar it would cause if anyone close to his father was to hear this. Frankly, Leo wasn’t certain his father would take his word over Vinters’s.
But Lysander had pressed on, mentioning the maid Ann Marble. Leo had stopped him, had asked him to meet later at Jean Franck’s house. They were practically in earshot of the king, for God’s sake.
That afternoon, Leo had wanted nothing more than to turn a blind eye to the appalling things Lysander had laid at his feet. And yet, at the same time, he was compelled to know more. If this was truly happening, he had an innate desire to crush those men. Even if one of them was to be his future father-in-law.Especiallyif.
But Lysander never appeared at his friend’s house, as he’d been apprehended that very afternoon in the palace gardens. Still, Leo thought perhaps his two henchmen might come.
No one came.
Leo heard nothing more until he was preparing to leave the palace to board his ship. As he waited for the footmen to load his trunks into a wagon, he overheard two government men talking. They said Lysander had been sent to Wesloria to answer for alleged crimes there.
“Aye, let the Weslorians have at him,” one of the men had said behind him. “They’ll make quick work of him.”
Leo had swallowed down a lump. That, then, he surmised, was the end of it. What could he possibly do without Lysander to advise him?
But that wasnotthe end of it.
When the ship arrived in London in the middle of the day, the docks were teeming. The crew of his ship was eager to discharge their duties and have their time on shore. As Leo watched men move crates and trunks and God knew what all, a sailor inadvertently bumped into him, touching his hand. Startled, Leo turned and realized that the sailor was slipping a paper into his hand.
“What is this?” Leo asked.
“From Lysander,” the sailor said. “Find one, find them all. Bring them home, and let the dust settle where it may.”
“Pardon?” Leo looked up, confused—but the man had disappeared into the throng of working men.
Leo unfolded the page. Listed were five feminine names. Those names—and the faces he imagined to go with them—were the reason he couldn’t stop his attempts, bungled as they may be, to speak to Ann Marble. She had to know something.
His first instinct had been to send the names to Bas with a note explaining what little he knew. But Leo had quickly discarded that idea. Bas was honeymooning. Moreover, Bas had carried the mantle of greater responsibility between the two of them all their lives. He’d worked to make things better in Alucia while Leo had worked to avoid any responsibility. Bas had earned the reputation of being smart and capable, and Leo had earned the reputation of being a rogue, a profligate. And this...this horrible business was happening in England, right under his nose.
Maybe, after living with such grace and privilege, it was time he did something for someone else.
But he wasn’t exactly versed in the practical ways of the world. There was, and had always been, someone close by to do everything he needed. How he might even attempt to find these women was a mystery to him. And what if he did find them? Then what? Was he to command them into his carriage and bring them...where? Here? To this hotel?
He was no hero. If he allowed himself to think too much about it, Leo could drown in a sea of self-doubt. And yet, at some point, it had occurred to him that Lysander was right—hewasuniquely qualified to do something about this, precisely because he was a useless prince. His title alone gave him entry into practically any house in London that he liked. His title alone attracted the attention of women, and his title alone had afforded him many opportunities to practice his charms. If there was a man who could walk into the houses where these women were kept, it was him. If there was a man who could convince these women to leave with him, to come forward, to speak, it wasn’t the hulking Lysander. It was him.
All he had to do was find Ann Marble. Isn’t that why Lysander had mentioned her? Leo wished he could remember precisely what he’d said, but he had to believe that if he found Ann Marble, he could find these women.Find one, find them all.
Unfortunately, after his visit to Lord Hill, he’d discovered that Ann Marble was no longer in Lord Russell’s employ, either. No. She was now cleaning rooms in the home of Lord Beckett Hawke.
What a small world it was.
ALIGHTRAINhad begun to fall when Leo reached the Upper Brook Street mansion where Hawke and his sister resided most of the year. Hawke had said once that in the unbearable months of summer they decamped to a family house in the Cotswolds. Leo was flanked by Kadro and Artur as he jogged up to the door. Kadro reached forward and rapped on the door. Several moments passed before the door swung open and Hawke filled the frame. He was still wearing his dressing gown. Dark shadows accentuated his green eyes, and his darkly golden hair appeared to be standing on end. Leo’s first instinct was that Lady Caroline had died.
But then Hawke grinned and said jovially, “Highness! You’ve come just in time. The fever broke last night.”
“That is welcome news indeed, friend.”
Hawke threw his arm around Leo’s shoulders and hauled him inside. “Come in, come in, all of you. No need to guard him here, eh, lads? We’ll have ale. No! Better yet, we’ll have gin. A toast to my sister’s health. Garrett! Where are you, Garrett?” he bellowed, calling his butler.
Kadro and Artur did not move from their post at the door. Hawke didn’t seem to notice. He let go Leo and padded into the salon, barefoot, his silk dressing gown billowing out behind him. “Garrett, come here!”
Leo glanced back at his guards and, with a tip of his chin, sent them outside to wait, then followed Hawke into his study. The place was disastrously cluttered. Books had been tossed onto the settee; more of them, once stacked near the hearth, had toppled over. Morning papers were stacked haphazardly on a table. There was a pile of what looked like clothing, but Leo wasn’t entirely certain. On the desk, dishes from a previous meal. It appeared as if Beckett Hawke was living in this room.
Garrett entered and bowed, then offered to take the flowers and whisky from Leo.
