“But it’s vital that you speak with us. You see, Lily may be involved in a crime and—”
“She could be involved wif the King o’ England for all I care. I don’t poke my nose where it don’t belong. Now I got a show to ready myself for.”
Alaric stepped forward. “Excuse me, Miss...?”
The actress turned in her seat to face him. Her sooted eyelashes fanned, and she readjusted the neckline of her robe, showing more of her twin assets.
“Well, ’ello, luvie,” she purred. “Didn’t see you there. The name’s Miss Bloom, but you can call me Daisy.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Alaric saw Emma frown.
“Miss Bloom,” he said, “finding Miss White is a matter of some urgency. Anything you recall would be helpful, and I will be happy to compensate you for your time.”
“What kind o’ compensation do you ’ave in mind, ’andsome?” she cooed.
“He means withmoney.” Emma’s hands fisted on her hips.
Alaric hid a smile. It was nice to know his kitten felt as possessive over him as he did over her. For an instant, the memory of Laura’s crazed jealousy raised its malignant head—and he pushed it aside.
This was different.Emmawas different.
She had every right to defend what was hers; if the situation were reversed, he wouldn’t countenance any man propositioning her.
He removed a small purse from his pocket and saw Daisy’s ears perk as the coins within jingled. As she reached for the bag, he kept it just out of reach.
“For your assistance,” he said.
“I like a man who drives a’ardbargain.” Winking, she said, “Onto business, then. Lily worked ’ere for about six months before she upped and left well o’er a month ago.”
“Do you know where she went?” Emma said.
“We weren’t bosom friends. In competition, weren’t we, for the best, ahem,patrons.” Daisy sent him an arch look. “Lily couldn’t act worth a farthing, but she ’ad the kind o’ talent coves admired, if you know what I mean.”
“Was anyone here close to Lily?” Emma asked.
“Like I said, she was close to plenty o’ gents. But you might try Peter Dunn—four-eyes o’er there.” She angled her head toward a gangly bespectacled fellow standing next to a set of plaster columns. “’E’s the playwright. Lily had ’im wound round ’er finger so that he’d write ’er good parts.”
“Thank you,” Emma said.
Daisy aimed a pointed gaze at the coin purse.
When Alaric gave it to her, she cooed, “Come alone next time, luvie, an’ I’ll give you a private showin’ o’ The Cytherea’s main attractions.” She wriggled her shoulders, causing said attractions to nearly tumble free of her robe.
Emma took hold of his arm and tugged him away. Out of earshot of the actress, she muttered, “You can close your mouth now.”
Amused, he arched a brow. “You’re not jealous?”
“Of course not. I just think it’s rude to be staring at a woman—anywhere below her face,” she said primly.
“First of all, I wasn’t staring at her. Second, I look at you all the time below your face. And when I’m really lucky,” he murmured, “I get to do more than look.”
She blushed. He hoped she never grew out of that charming habit.
As they approached the playwright, she said in a brisk undertone, “I’ll do the talking.”
“I wouldn’t dream of interfering with a professional at work,” he said.
She slid him a narrow-eyed glance, and he bit back a smile. He had to admit that sleuthing with Emma was rather... fun. He hadn’t enjoyed himself this much in, well, he couldn’t recall the last time. His amusement only grew as they neared Peter Dunn, who was trying to instruct a buxom actress on her accent.
