Pippa chewed on her lip. “So do you think I should see him again?”
“If the Prince of Larks is the kind of man I think he is, then you will undoubtedly see him again,” Livy said sagely. “The question is how you wish to proceed when you do.”
Mrs. Loverly received them in her office and was barely recognizable from the last time Pippa had seen her. She wore no wig, her mousy brown hair tied in curling papers. Her cheeks and lips were pale without cosmetics, and her tattered chintz wrapper covered her from neck to toes. All in all, she looked more like a frowsy matron than a notorious madam.
Pippa’s surprise must have shown, for as the bawd waved them to the chairs by her desk, she said, “I only get dressed up for work, dearie. Speaking o’ which, right now is my bedtime. I don’t mind doing Lady Fayne a favor, but I need my beauty rest, eh?”
“Of course,” Pippa said hastily. “We would like to see your guest list for the night when I was here.”
Mrs. Loverly leaned back in her chair. “Afraid I can’t do that, luvie. Even for Lady Fayne. She understands as I do that discretion is the bedrock o’ our enterprises.”
“Will you at least confirm if Lady Julianna Hastings was on the list?” Livy asked.
The bawd’s gaze thinned. “You mean the lady wot got murdered? It was splashed all o’er the papers yesterday and today.”
Pippa nodded. “To bring her killer to justice, we need your help.”
After a pause, Mrs. Loverly replied, “She weren’t on the list. Never met the woman.”
Undeterred, Pippa opened her black silk reticule and took out a small sketch book. Opening it to the two portraits she’d sketched—one of Julianna Hastings, the other of the mahogany-haired man with the silver eyes—she placed it on the desk.
“Do you recognize either of these people?” she asked.
The bawd studied the drawings. “They were at my club that night.”
Pippa’s pulse quickened. “Who are they?”
Mrs. Loverly tapped a finger on the sketch of the woman. “Gave her name as Mary Brown. Said she were a widow looking for some company. First-time patron and paid in gold.” She turned to the drawing of the man. “Now him, I’ve had in my club a handful o’ times. Uses the name Thor on account of his mighty, ahem, thunderbolt.”
A snort escaped Livy. “What is his real name?”
“He didn’t say, and I didn’t ask. It ain’t easy finding prime male specimens, so I take them as they come. Can’t say for certain, but I’d pin him as an actor.”
“Why do you say that?” Pippa asked.
“Call it a gut feeling.” The bawd shrugged. “Quite a few actors work for me to make extra blunt when they’re between jobs. And Thor struck me as the kind of fellow who landed mostly thinking parts.”
In other words, non-speaking roles that didn’t pay well.
“That’s all I know. If there’s nothing else…” Mrs. Loverly elevated her brows.
Seeing Livy shake her head, Pippa rose. “We appreciate your time, ma’am.”
Pippa and Livy made their next stop at Charlie’s.
“Not that we have much to share,” Livy groused as they headed toward the study. “Trying to find this Thor will be no easy task. Unemployed actors in London are as plentiful as eels in the Thames. And are you certain the woman you saw that night was Julianna Hastings?”
“Not absolutely certain,” Pippa admitted. “But I have a good memory for faces.”
“Lady Hastings was rather unremarkable in her looks. A lot of women could resemble her.”
“Perhaps. Yet ‘Mary Brown’ could have been an alias that Lady Hastings was using. Such a common name would be nearly impossible to track down…”
Pippa trailed off as Charlie came down the corridor toward them. She had never seen the other lady look so agitated.
With a rush of concern, she asked, “What is the matter?”
“I just received word.” Charlie’s eyes were icy with rage. “The police have concluded that Lady Hastings was the victim of a random crime. Jeremy Hastings has been cleared of any wrongdoing and won’t be held responsible for the murder of his wife.”
