Evander felt bereft when he woke up alone in his room the next morning, Viggo’s absence making his stomach sink for a moment. It was surprising how quickly he had become accustomed to the Brute’s presence not just in his life, but in his bed.
He rose and walked over to the window in time to see the Tuileries Gardens appear in the dawn mist. Paris looked different in the grey morning light. Less magical and more dangerous.
A soft knock at the door announced the arrival of a servant with hot water for washing and a message that breakfast would be served in the hotel’s dining room within the hour.
Viggo and Solomon were already at their table when Evander came downstairs.
“Your Grace,” Viggo greeted with a curt nod.
“Mr. Stonewall,” Evander murmured, taking the seat opposite the Brute.
He was aware of the curious stares from the guests in the breakfast room as their waiter attended to him. Even though they were wearing suitable attire for the venue, Viggo and Solomon stood out amidst the plush surroundings of the hotel. This had more to do with the aura of danger the two men subtly radiated rather than their humble origins.
Shaw looked remarkably refreshed when she sauntered in ahead of Rufus a moment later, her eyes bright with excitement as she examined the ornate plasterwork decorating the ceiling and walls. Rufus accepted a cup of tea from the waiter with the grateful expression of a man reunited with an old friend. Ginny and Fairbridge came in last, the pair engaged in quiet conversation that broke off when they approached the table.
“Good morning.” Ginny ignored Solomon’s suspicious stare as she sat down. “Did everyone sleep well?”
There was a chorus of “Yes, thank you.”
Fairbridge murmured to their waiter in fluent French, his accent flawless. A paper magically appeared at his elbow within a minute. He opened it and perused the news while he sipped his coffee.
“Anything of interest?” Evander asked as breakfast was served.
Fairbridge met his gaze above the paper. “Possibly. We shall see if there’s a link when we meet Beaulieu.”
Viggo’s knuckles whitened on the handle of his cup.
Shaw leaned toward Ginny, one hand rising to partly cover her mouth. “Why does Mr. Stonewall look like he’s about to crush his porcelain?” she whispered.
“Because he’s jealous of Comte Beaulieu,” Ginny drawled.
Evander’s eyes shrank to slits. “I don’t believe it is necessary to our mission for you to reveal every tidbit of information about my personal life, Lady Hartley.”
Rufus sighed heavily.
Ginny arched an innocent eyebrow. “But your personal life is so fascinating, your Grace. And I say that as a courtesan who has been wooed by hordes of men.”
Solomon’s expression visibly cooled.
Rufus decided to focus on his food with the intensity of a man committed to ignoring the present conversation.
Shaw’s confusion finally cleared. She gasped, delight making her eyes sparkle. “You mean, you shagged the count too, your Grace?!”
Evander groaned as her squeal echoed around the breakfast room.
Their table became the focus of loaded stares.
Rufus stabbed a sausage with a ruthless movement. “How about you keep your voice down, Shaw?” he growled. “Better still, don’t talk at all.”
“But—Inspector!” Shaw protested in a low voice. “His Grace has bedded not just one, but two magnificent men. I am keen to know his secret.”
Ginny chortled while she delicately cut her bacon and pointedly ignored Evander’s death stare. Solomon mutteredsomething under his breath. Viggo looked decidedly conflicted. Fairbridge’s paper trembled slightly in his hands.
Rufus’s knuckles whitened on his cutlery.
“I can’t believe I’m actually asking this, but why in God’s good name do you want to know that kind of information?” the inspector snapped.
Shaw sneaked a quick look around before leaning forward conspiratorially. She beckoned the rest of the table to do the same. They did.
