Page 14 of Her Beast

“What was the Harlow chit doing here?”

“Mrs. Clemmons said she had some questions about wedding clothes, sir.”

“Obviously she was here about bridal clothes if she went into the bridal salon,” he said icily. “But something must have happened for her to be ordering a gown at such a late date.”

Not to mention the fact that Tommy had always hated Malcolm and Sukey and what Bri did with them, so he couldn’t see Harlow allowing his daughter to shop at Barton’s.

“She wasn’t here to order a gown—she went to Worth’s Paris store, sir. She was here to inquire about altering the gown.”

Malcolm snorted at the pretentious poppycock. Barton’s carried exclusive Worth designs—dresses even the atelier himself didn’t sell in his Paris store as part of his agreement to get his clothing into Barton’s. Why the hell would anyone go to Paris when there was a bigger selection only a few miles away?

Nothing but pure snobbery. Or the fact that Julia’s father hated Malcolm. Or both.

An unwanted image of the red-haired man flickered through his mind.

He scowled.Who the fuck is that big bloke and why is he tickling my memory like a feather up my arse?

But there was no Sukey in his head to answer his question.

Malcolm saw that Butkins was still waiting and said, “Go to Joe Bacon and tell him to find out where Thomas Harlow’s house is and who is living in it.”

Butkins adjusted to the sudden change in subject with admirable swiftness. “Er, very good, sir.”

“I want to know abouteveryoneliving in the house—servants and family. If Joe can locate photographs of the occupants, I want those, too. I’m especially interested in a huge bloke—maybe family, maybe an upper servant. Tell Joe to make this a priority. I want something by the end of next week.”

“Yes, sir.” Butkins looked unhappy at the prospect of talking to Joe Bacon, who was Malcolm’s intimidating enforcer.

Just because Malcolm had gone legitimate—mostly—didn’t mean he no longer needed muscle. Indeed, he seemed to need Joe more and more every year.

“Oh, and another thing,” Malcolm said as the other man turned to leave.

Butkins’s eyes filled with dread, as if wondering what fresh Hell awaited him. “Yes, sir?”

“Dora is set to arrive tonight?”

Butkins’s face flamed. “Er, yes sir, at the normal time.” He hesitated, flicked at gaze at Malcolm’s crotch—as if afraid of what he’d see there—and then raised his eyes. “Did you, er, need her earlier?”

Malcolm laughed. “No, I can wait that long. But tell Madam Sylvie I don’t want Dora. Tell her to send somebody new.”

Malcolm usually employed whores for two weeks at a stretch, accommodating them in one of the luxurious guest suites he’d built for precisely that purpose.

“Any specific instructions?” Butkins asked, squirming under Malcolm’s amused stare.

“You saw the Harlow chit—tell her that I want somebody who resembles Julia Harlow: blond, small, but not too thin.”

Poor Butkins looked like he might faint from mortification. “Yes, sir. Is that all?”

“Yes. You can go,” he said, smirking at Butkins’s fleeing back.

Malcolm really was a pig to use the other man as his procurer, but it was his secretary’s fault for reacting in such an amusing way even after all these years. It wouldn’t surprise Malcolm to learn that Butkins was still a virgin.

As for the whore he’d just requested… Well, Malcolm knew he would never get anyone as beautiful as Julia Harlow, but a man could dream, couldn’t he?

Chapter 3

That Same Night, Across Town

Julia entered her room and yelped at the figure lurking inside her dressing room.

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