Guests were staggering around, three sheets to the wind. The whores had abandoned most of their clothing, strutting through the crowd, showing their wares. Once prices were negotiated, they retreated behind the screens with their patrons, the primal sounds of coupling swelling with the music of the quartet. The dance floor became a mass of grinding, heaving bodies, partners traded as easily as kisses.
The air was sweltering, the lights had dimmed.
Time for me to make my move.
Glory made her way up the staircase as quickly as she could. Reaching the top, she found a hallway lined with doors. She was early for her rendezvous with Mr. Devlin, but she could do some preliminary sleuthing until he arrived.
By the sounds of the muffled groans, most of the rooms appeared to be occupied. Glory made her way along the corridor and turned the corner, not sure where to start her search. Her ears perked at a sudden sound. Pausing, she listened…yes, there it was again.
What sounded like a bark.
Is that Sir Barkley?
With thudding excitement, she followed the barking. But then it stopped. At that moment, a ghostly hand brushed her nape; she pivoted…and saw nothing but shadows.
Aarf. Aarf aarf.
She tracked the barking to the room at the end of the hall. She glanced this way and that before pressing her ear to the wood. No voices…but there was a scratching on the other side of the barrier, followed by faint whines. She tried the knob—locked. The whining turned into plaintive whimpers.
“There’s a good boy,” she murmured. “I’ll have you free in a moment.”
Plucking a set of hairpins from her wig, she made short work of the lock. She slipped inside and was instantly attacked by a ball of white fluff. The dog bounced on its short hind legs, black eyes bright with joy and tail sweeping like a feather duster.
The pup was adorable but not Sir Barkley. Fighting disappointment, she bent to give him a scratch behind the ears…and her eyes widened at the sight of the golden charm attached to his leather collar. It was shaped like the letter “B,” with a tiny garnet-studded crown on top. She removed the charm from the collar and examined it.
“This looks like Sir Barkley’s charm,” she said with hushed elation. “The one he is wearing in his portrait—that Mrs. Mumford-Mills said she had specially made.”
The dog tilted his head and thumped his tail against the carpet. With a worried pang, Glory wondered if he was a victim of dognapping as well. At least he looked happy and well cared for. His coat was brushed into a cloud, his nose moist and twitchy. Looking around the chamber, she spotted a dog-sized bed that was a charming miniature of the massive tester bed beside it.
She pocketed the charm and gave the pup a pat before starting her search for clues. She began at the desk; the surface was meticulous, writing implements ordered in silver trays. Finding the drawers locked, Glory again made use of her makeshift picks. She pulled a leather-bound appointment book from the top drawer. She turned to the first page and hesitated at the boldly inked warning.
Property of Wulfric R. Scott.
Straightening her shoulders, she flipped through the pages, stopping at an entry made a month ago. “F, Jacob’s Island” was scheduled for nine o’clock on a Friday evening. Could “F” stand for “Farwell”? Had the meeting been about the dognapping scheme? She found an identical entry scheduled for the following Friday.
Replacing the appointment book, she rummaged through the other drawers. In the bottom one, she found a folded map of the East End. A dozen or so properties had been circled, their addresses noted in the margin…
Sudden awareness ghosted over her nape. She spun around, and her heart stuttered at the sight of the figure standing inside the room.
He’d entered as noiselessly as a shadow. His all-black attire accentuated his lean and powerful physique and gave him a dangerous air. He was masked, the brewing intensity of his gaze sending a quiver up her spine.
“Mr. Chen,” she breathed. “What are you doing here?”
“Keeping an eye on you,” Wei said sternly.
He advanced toward her, stopping when his knees were attacked by a bundle of snowy fur.
“Sit,” he commanded.
The dog obeyed, beating its tail against the carpet.
Wei continued to his target.
“How…how did you find me?” Lady Glory asked.
“Without much difficulty,” he said shortly.
As usual, her disguise was compromised by her eyes. He wondered if the shining idealism in those wide orbs could ever be dimmed. He’d been surveilling her all evening from the rooftop, watching her pull off a convincing performance as a serving maid.
