Page 92 of A Royal Kiss & Tell
Kadro nodded curtly.
“Thank you. You may go,” Leo said, and turned away from his guard.
He felt unlike himself. A wholly different person from the man who had occupied this skin for twenty-nine years. He didn’t like living with dull suspicions and the need to look over his shoulder. He didn’t like it at all.
Yesterday, a note had come from Hawke:
Your Royal Highness, greetings and salutations. I am writing to invite you to attend the Pennybacker ball with Lady Caroline and myself. She assures me an invitation has been extended to you and feels very much that you should not enter that “den of rumormongers and anxious mothers” all alone. I have suggested that my sister is chief among the rumormongers, and she has said some very unkind things to me in return. But it is her wish, and I extend this invitation because I have proven time and again that I am powerless to deny her. Therefore, it would be our great honor if you were to attend the ball in our company, if for no other reason than to keep brother and sister from maiming each other. We look forward to your favorable reply. B.H.
Leo couldn’t help but smile as he imagined the scene between brother and sister. The Hawkes were the only bright spot in this strange new world he’d created for himself.
He’d sent his favorable reply. He was ready to attend and free Rasa.
He was, however, unusually anxious, given that his previous attempts to free the maids had not gone smoothly. Part of him wished that he could enjoy the ball as he might have a year ago—with an abundance of wine, dancing, perhaps a card game or two.
A larger part of him was relieved those days were behind him.
He had one thing to do before he arrived at the Hawke household. Much to Freddar’s dismay, he insisted on a large overcoat to cover his formal clothing and a dreadful hat with a brim so wide one would have to dip down to see his face. He needed to make a pair of calls on the way to Upper Brook Street.
The first was to Cressidian’s house. It was time to think about that scoundrel.
Mr. Cressidian looked surprised to see him. He looked a little bleary-eyed. Leo knew that look—it was the look of a debauched lifestyle. He guessed Cressidian would rouse himself with some food and drink and have another go this evening.
“Your Highness,” the scoundrel said uncertainly when Leo was shown into his study. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I suspect not. I won’t keep you. But I’m curious, sir—how much did they pay you to slander me?”
One of Cressidian’s brows rose. “I beg your pardon?”
Leo sighed with impatience. “Come now, Mr. Cressidian. You are a master at lining your own pocket. When you told the men who are in the despicable business of selling Weslorian women that I knew about the scheme, how much did they pay you to slander me?”
The blood drained from Cressidian’s face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said coolly.
“Bloody hell, you don’t.”
“I will thank you to take your leave,” he said, and sort of lurched toward the door, throwing it open, then looking into the hallway, where he probably suspected Alucian men were standing, waiting to take him. They would come later for him, Leo would see to that.
Leo slowly walked to the door, but he paused before the man. He could smell the sour stench of fear and drink on him. “One day, Mr. Cressidian, you will be called to account for your crimes. If I were you, I’d get on my knees and beg for mercy.”
“Fine advice coming from a royal wastrel. Get on your own knees.”
“What makes you think I haven’t?” Leo asked with a wry smile. And then, with speed and strength he hadn’t known he possessed, he punched Cressidian squarely in the jaw and sent him tumbling backward. He gave a laugh of surprise as he went out—he wouldn’t have thought himself capable of such a stunning blow.
The next call he made was to the home of Hollis Honeycutt. He needed to see that his wards were comfortable and prepared to leave at a moment’s notice. He arrived at the address where he’d sent the ladies and knocked on the door. The man who opened the door to him in shirtsleeves and an apron was as tall as he was, and a bit broader. He might have been the most handsome man Leo had ever seen.
He must have been staring in confusion, because the man said, “Aye?”
“Pardon. Is Mrs. Honeycutt at home?”
“She is,” he said, looking Leo up and down. He didn’t move from filling the door.
“Who’s there, Donovan?”
Hollis Honeycutt appeared at the door, ducking under the arm the man had propped against the door frame. She was dressed for the ball. “Oh! Your Highness!”
The man arched a brow.
“I beg your pardon, but I had a moment of opportunity and I thought I might see after your guests?”
