The Raven Prince (Princes #1)(89)

“And Harry and I are also masked because…?”

“Because if this man follows me closely enough to know about my engagement to Miss Gerard, he’ll also know we three are comrades.”

Harry grunted in apparent assent.

“Ah. In that case, perhaps we ought to mask the dog as well.” The viscount looked pointedly at Jock, sitting upright on the bench next to Harry. The dog gazed alertly out the window.

“Try to be serious,” Edward growled.

“I was,” Iddesleigh muttered.

Edward ignored the other man to watch out the window himself. They were in an area near the East End that was not quite disreputable, yet not entirely respectable. He caught the movement of a skirt in a doorway as they passed. A trull displaying her wares. Less-benign shapes skulked in the shadows as well. Part of the Grotto’s allure was that it straddled the narrow line between the illicit and the truly dangerous. The fact that on any given night a small portion of the Grotto’s patrons were robbed or worse didn’t seem to diminish its attraction; to a certain sort, no doubt, it increased the appeal.

The glow of lights up ahead gave notice that they were nearing the Grotto. In another moment, the faux Greek façade came into view. White marble and an abundance of gilt lent Aphrodite’s Grotto a magnificently vulgar air.

“How do you plan to find the blackmailer?” Harry asked sotto voce as they descended from the carriage.

Edward shrugged. “At nine we’ll know how big the field is.” He strolled to the entrance with all the arrogance of his nine generations of aristocracy behind him.

Two burly fellows in togas guarded the doors. The drapes on the man nearest were a bit too short, revealing astonishingly hairy calves.

The guard squinted suspiciously at Edward. “ ’Ere now. Ain’t you the Earl of—”

“I’m so glad you recognized me.” Edward put one hand on the man’s shoulder and extended the other in a seemingly friendly shake.

The extended palm held a guinea. The guard’s fist closed smoothly over the gold piece and disappeared into the folds of his toga.

The man smiled greasily. “That’s all fine and good, my lord. But after last time, perhaps you wouldn’t mind…?” The man rubbed his fingers together suggestively.

Edward scowled. What cheek! He leaned into the other man’s face until he could smell the rot of his teeth. “Perhaps I would mind.”

Jock growled.

The guard backed up, hands thrust out in a calming motion. “That’s good! That’s good, my lord! Step right in.”

Edward nodded curtly and climbed the steps.

Beside him, Iddesleigh murmured, “You really must tell me about this misunderstanding sometime.”

Harry chuckled.

Edward ignored them. They were in, and he’d more important matters to consider.

“BUT WHERE DID HE GO?” Anna stood in the entrance hall to Edward’s town house, interrogating Dreary. She still wore her musty traveling clothes.

“I’m sure I don’t know, ma’am.” The butler seemed genuinely at a loss.

She stared at him in frustration. She’d spent all day traveling, had composed and recomposed her apology to Edward, had even daydreamed about making up afterward, and now the silly man wasn’t even here. It was a bit anticlimactic, to say the least.

“Doesn’t anyone know where Lord Swartingham is?” She was beginning to whine.

Fanny shifted from one foot to the other beside her. “Maybe he went looking for you, mum.”

Anna switched her gaze to Fanny. In doing so, a movement at the back of the hall caught her eye. Edward’s valet was tiptoeing away. Sneakily.

“Mr. Davis.” She snatched at her skirts and trotted after the man more briskly than was ladylike. “Mr. Davis, wait a moment.”

Drat! The old man was faster than he looked. He darted around the corner and up a back staircase, feigning deafness.

Anna panted after him. “Stop!”

The valet turned at the top of the stairs. They were in a narrow hallway, evidently the servants’ quarters. Davis made for a door at the end of the corridor, but Anna was faster on level ground. She put on an extra burst of speed and reached the door before the little man. She slammed her back to the closed door, her arms outstretched on either side, barring him from his sanctuary.

“Mr. Davis.”

“Oh, was you wanting me, mum?” He opened rheumy eyes wide.

“Quite.” She inhaled deeply, trying to catch her breath. “Where is the earl?”

“The earl?” Davis looked around as if expecting Edward to pop out of the shadows.

“Edward de Raaf, Lord Swartingham, the Earl of Swartingham?” Anna leaned closer. “Your master?”

“Don’t have to be snotty.” Davis actually looked wounded.

“Mr. Davis!”

“M’lord might’ve had an idea,” the valet said carefully, “that he was needed somewheres else.”

Anna tapped her foot. “Tell me right now where he is.”

Davis cast his eyes up and then to the side, but there was no help in the dim hallway. He heaved a sigh. “He might’ve found a letter.” The manservant didn’t meet her eyes. “He might’ve gone to a nasty house. Had an awful strange name, Aphroditty or Aphro—”