“Of course,” Fi replied.
“But you were married yesterday—”
“Which is why I am free to investigate,” Fi said brightly. “Henceforth, I can do whatever I wish.”
“While that is all well and good, you are a newlywed.” Beneath her top hat, Pippa’s blue eyes were knowing. “You ought to enjoy being one.”
“Iamenjoying it. Right now, however, there is nothing else I’d rather do than work on the case.”
Pippa lifted her brows. “Nothingelse?”
“Really, Pippa.” Fi’s cheeks flamed. “That is most indelicate.”
“As your friend, your happiness is more important to me than delicacy.” Lacing her gloved hands atop her trousered lap, Pippa said, “I have always felt like an older sister to you and the other Angels, and I want you to know that you can discuss anything with me. Even things that might seem, well, uncomfortable.”
Fi squirmed on the velvet squabs. “There is nothing to discuss, I assure you.”
“During my first marriage, I had disappointments that I kept to myself. That I was too embarrassed to talk about with anyone,” Pippa went on. “And I don’t want you to suffer that same fate.”
Knowing what she did of her friend’s first marriage, Fiona felt a rush of sympathy. “That is kind of you, Pippa, but—”
“Whatever happened, or didn’t happen, on your wedding night, you can talk to me about it without fear of judgement. I am here for you, Fiona.”
“That is kind—”
“While physical love between husband and wife can be a beautiful thing, it can also take practice. Ladies, especially, may not experience the same satisfaction as men do without certain, ahem, preliminary activities.” Her cheeks rosy, Pippa plowed on. “Communication is key, and as you and Hawksmoor haven’t known one another for long, it might be understandably difficult to discuss certain sensitive topics. But you can ask me any question you like or share your feelings whatever they may be—”
“Being with Hawksmoor is wonderful.” The truth seemed the best way to allay her friend’s concern. “Better than I imagined it would be. And I had rather high expectations.”
“Oh.” Pippa’s smile lit up her face. “Dearest, I amsoglad to hear it. But why then are you not…”
“Not what?”
“Why are you not with your husband? When Cull and I were first married, we didn’t leave the bed for days.” Pippa’s eyes twinkled. “We’re still that way.”
Fiona gave an exaggerated sigh. “Knowing that, how am I supposed to look Mr. Cullen in the eyes when I see him next?”
“There is naught to be ashamed about when it comes to love and passion,” Pippa declared. “I learned this the hard way and don’t want you to bottle things up the way I did. If there is anything you ever wish to speak about, I am here to listen.”
Fi flashed to the closed door between her and Hawk’s chambers. Her desire to see him this morning. Perhaps to feel his arms around her while she slept.
Don’t be a ninny,she chided herself.Your arrangement with Hawk is perfect.
Her marriage was based on different principles than Pippa’s. While Pippa wanted intimacy, Fiona needed privacy to carry on as she pleased. Why complicate her marriage with excessive closeness? Why risk exposing parts of herself that Hawk might find problematical—or, worse yet, demand her to change? As she’d once told him, the last thing she wanted was to invite overprotectiveness and disappointment into their relationship.
Stick to the terms of your marriage, and you won’t get hurt.
“Thank you for the offer,” Fi said. “If I ever have questions, I know who to come to.”
Fiona and Pippa’s destination was crammed between a pawn shop and tea purveyor. Dubiously named “Pandora’s Box of Wonders,” the music hall consisted of a large room with a stage framed by tattered red curtains. Waitstaff were setting places at the long tables scattered throughout. The smells of ale and roasting meat permeated the air.
“’Ow can I ’elp you gents?” one of the serving maids asked.
Fi pitched her voice to a masculine register. “We are looking for the manager.”
“You’ll be wanting Mr. Hutchings. ’Is office is the last room behind the stage.”
Behind the stage, Fi and Pippa found a series of small rooms. Each contained threadbare furnishings and, oddly, a wooden pole that ran from floor to ceiling. At the end of the hall was a closed door. When no one answered her knock, Fi tried the knob. The door opened to reveal a man asleep at a cluttered desk.
