“Well, come on, then.”
Mara was led down a dimly lit hallway to be shown into a small, yet appropriately decorated drawing room. Celeste was already there, reclining on a tufted red settee. Her long, black hair was falling in disarray about her shoulders, and she was dressed in a nearly diaphanous black nightdress and robe.
And she wasn’t alone. Sitting in a red wingback chair by the fireplace was another woman with dark hair and a hint of a smile playing about her lips. She was wearing a similar costume to Celeste’s, although it was dark blue and in a much higher fashion with its delicate, embroidered peacock design. Mara could certainly see how both women had excelled in their art. They exuded a sensuality that Mara could never even begin to duplicate.
“Ah, Miss Smith.” Celeste lifted a brow and waved a hand to indicate that Mara should sit down. “You took quite a risk to your reputation in calling so boldly in the morning.” Nodding toward the other woman, she said, “Allow me to introduce another friend of mine, Miss Fanny Wilson.”
Mara felt her jaw go slack. Before her sat one of the most infamous courtesan sisters of London. In fact, Fanny’s elder sister, Harriette, had gone so far to release a scandalous account of her past lovers, including the revered Duke of Wellington, who was said to tell her to “publish, and be damned” on the rumor of her memoirs. Another sister, Sophia, actually wed one of her admirers some years ago and was now known as Lady Berwick. Mara had always heard that Fanny, along with yet another sibling, Amy, preferred a bit of a lower-key existence, although their lavish parties and paramours were just as outlandish as their predecessors’. They shared a primary residence on Park Lane in the fashionable area of Berkeley Square, but they tended to frequent Celeste’s humble establishment as well, for birds of a feather apparently did flock together.
“Is she the one, then?” Fanny asked Celeste, causing Mara to frown curiously.
“Indeed,” Celeste replied. Cocking her head to the side, she eyed Mara directly. “So tell me, what exactlyisyour association with Lord Eversleigh?”
“My…affiliation with the viscount is purely a like-minded association, I assure you.” Mara quickly clarified.
“How utterly boring.” Fanny sighed.
Celeste’s eyes twinkled merrily. “I’m sure it would be if it were the truth.”
Mara felt her face heat traitorously, for it was rather obvious the woman could see through her lies, but Celeste chose not to goad her any further.
“I suppose you are here regarding Big B’s disappearance.”
Mara nodded. She felt in control of herself now that she was on familiar ground. “I was hoping you might have heard something regarding the man who had taken him. He goes by the pseudonym fer-de-lance.” Mara thought that a significant look passed between the two women. Instead of remarking on the fact, she added, “I’m led to understand that he was accompanied by another individual known as the Captain.”
There was a brief pause before Celeste spoke up. “These are dangerous waters, Miss Smith. Are you sure this is something you wish to tread?”
Mara didn’t even hesitate. “If it means saving Big B, then yes, I do.”
“I see.” Celeste reached out a slim arm to a nearby table and pulled open a drawer. She withdrew a single sheet of paper and handed it to Mara. “I fear this is all I can offer you.”
Mara glanced down to see that it was a receipt for passage on board a ship by the name ofBeaumont. Unfortunately, the vessel had already sailed out of port for France, but at least it was a lead she could work with.
“I was more inclined to give you that information than the men who came here a few days ago. I could tell they were Runners by their cheeky manner.” The Madame shrugged. “I’m sure you can understand I’ve never been a fan of law enforcement.”
“I hope you know I would never cause trouble for you,” Mara said honestly. “However I do believe that their superior, Mr. Andrews, is a decent man, even if his cohorts have a bit to be desired.” Standing, she reached out a hand to Celeste. “I’m grateful for your help. While I would love to stay and chat, I should be going. I do have the shop to open up soon.”
Celeste cocked her head to the side. “Do be careful, Anna,” she warned, any earlier teasing set aside. “The man who dropped that out of his coat pocket was not one to be trifled with. I waited upon him when he arrived, and I swear I would never do it again. He had strange…tastes that even I had never dared to imagine.”
“I promise,” Mara replied somberly. “And thank you.”
Celeste seemed satisfied with this, for she resumed her relaxed pose. “I will keep your Mr. Andrews in mind if something should arise.” With a sly twist to her lips, she tacked on, “Don’t forget to give our regards to your dear viscount.”
Mara didn’t deign to reply.
Returning to the hackney, Mara made it to the side entrance of the haberdashery without issue, as if it might have been any other day. Quickly getting the shop in order, she finally opened the door for business, although her mind was whirling with the information she’d gained from Celeste.
* * *
“That man is more than I could have hoped for. He’s a barbarian.”
The statement was punctuated by another grunt of pain as James Larkin’s newest enterprise threw a shot to his opponent’s ribs. Big B was certainly turning out to be worth all the trouble he’d put into acquiring the boxer, for he was a vicious brute in the ring. Of course, James had no choice but to deal in the French underground for the time being, but soon he would be able to move about at will, perhaps even return to London without any compunction. And with the new information he’d received from his henchman, Captain Greeves, he imagined freedom was closer at hand than he had imagined—and with a much sweeter incentive to remain hidden just a bit longer.
About that time, a deafening roar rose through the crowd of onlookers. A nearly violent blur of shouts, mixed with victory and frustration alike caused James to smile. Apparently, Big B had done his job yet again. The man just never seemed to quit. He had fought nearly every night since he’d brought him into his employ more than a week ago, and while he had resisted his destiny at first, James’s henchmen had made sure to subdue him properly as they’d sailed across the English Channel.
His purse was certainly thankful for Big B’s efforts.
“Where’s he going?”
