“He has a penchant for more than that. He’s been out of the country for years. The fact that he’s returned means he’s up to something. We’ve been watching him for a while now but haven’t been able to learn anything. Having you in the house so close to him may finally help us find something.”
“What?”
Grimaldi grinned at her. “Thatis precisely what we needyouto discover, Mademoiselle LaCrosse.”
CHAPTER NINE
Blast and damnation. Cade had spent the better part of an hour this morning going about his morning ablutions while trying to remember what the hell had happened last night with Mademoiselle LaCrosse in his bedchamber. Obviously nothingtoountoward. He’d been completely dressed when he awoke. And Daphne had been there with Rafe, according to Danielle.
Cade was annoyed with himself for doing exactly what his brother and sister-in-law had warned him against only hours before. Apparently he didn’t have it in him to act appropriately even for the span of one evening. He sighed. On the other hand, his misstep with the mademoiselle last night just might prove useful in furthering his guise as a drunken lout. The more useless Rafe assumed he was, the better.
However, getting so foxed that he didn’t remember everything that had happened was poorly done of him. Losing control was a dangerous mistake in his position. People like him who lost control ended up dead. He needed to buckle down and focus on his plan. The sooner he could find the answers he needed, the sooner he could leave. Leaving here was preferable for many reasons, including distancing himself from a deucedly tempting and distracting lady’s maid.
She’d surprised him. Peopleneversurprised him. She’d attracted him. He preferred tall, curvy blondes, but something about this small, dark-haired, willowy woman was alluring. Perhaps it was her confidence. She’d been at ease trading words with him and had marched into his room this morning, bold as you please, demanding he drink a glass of green elixir and examining his hand without so much as a how do you do.
The French were bold, but something about this woman was especially intriguing. She certainly was beautiful. Breathtaking even. More beautiful than he’d guessed, even after Rafe had warned him so strictly away from her. Perhaps Cade would do the right thing and apologize to her for his behavior last night. Perhaps he’d ask her to have a drink with him. One drink couldn’t hurt.
He scrubbed his face and winced when he touched the bruise on his cheek. People said they couldn’t tell the difference between him and Rafe. He had longer hair. Now he had a shiner to boot. It would be damn easy for anyone to tell the difference.
He shook his head and wiped a towel over his face. Despite being warned away by his brother and sister-in-law, he’d already decided a flirtation with Mademoiselle LaCrosse wouldn’t hurt anyone. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d taken a tumble with a maid, but pretty maids were a shilling a dozen, and he had more important things to worry about. Like how the hell he was going to explain his black eye to Tomlinson.
Cade dressed himself. He’d never understood how Rafe got used to a bloody valet. He couldn’t imagine himself living with a picky little man hovering about, worrying about every wrinkle or (God forbid) bloodstain he got on his clothing. Though a valet would not be an affectation Cade ever acquired, he certainly admired his sister-in-law’s lady’s maid. Blast. There he went again, his mind drifting to Mademoiselle LaCrosse.
He’d been too damn long without a woman. That was all. He needed to get laid and he needed to get laid tonight. He’d stop by Madame Turlington’s this evening after he met Rafe at the club.
He took the stairs two at a time, left the house, and walked halfway across Mayfair before hiring a hack to take him to a less respectable part of town. It had become his habit with Tomlinson to meet at the Curious Goat Inn. The tavern was out of the way enough that they weren’t likely to see anyone they knew, but respectable enough to explain what they were doing there if they did come across a stray acquaintance.
The tavern never changed. In all the years Cade had been coming here (and he hadn’t been here in more than ten), it remained the same dingy gray and brown interior, with the same worn wooden tables and chairs that had once been painted the reds and blues of the English flag but were now just faint, aging flecks on the nondescript wood. The patronage was usually more tired than rowdy and today was not unlike any other.
A buxom middle-aged waitress served him ale in a giant wooden mug. She leered at him and smiled a crooked smile. He wasn’t that desperate. Not yet. A younger, slim barmaid walked past. He actually considered taking her up on her obvious offer, but decided Madame Turlington’s would be less complicated. Barmaids tended to do things like remember you. And expect you to return. The last thing he needed on this particular trip to London was a complication. He’d made no promises to anyone and he fully intended to keep it that way.
He didn’t have long to wait for Tomlinson. The man always hurried off the street as if he had a score of errands to run. He pushed open the door to the tavern, shut it behind him, and carefully doffed his hat. The man was shorter and older than Cade, with a wreath of graying hair and a cane he carried merely for affectation. The minute he looked up and recognized Cade sitting at a table near the back, he nodded and headed toward him.
“Eversby,” he said in his upper-crust accent, nodding at Cade.
Like nearly everyone Cade associated with outside of Mayfair, Tomlinson didn’t know Cade’s real name. Tomlinson also didn’t run in the same circles as his twin and therefore didn’t know the Viscount Spy. Of course Cade suspected Tomlinson wasn’t the real name of the man across from him, either. They were even.
“Tomlinson,” Cade replied, nodding at the man, who quickly took a seat and was offered his own mug of ale by the slim barmaid. He ogled the woman for a moment before she flounced off.
Tomlinson spent a few moments propping his cane against the wall, then he turned to face Cade. “I was going to punch you myself but it seems someone already got to it. What happened to your eye?”
“I was paid a visit by someone who is obviously not an admirer of mine.” Cade grinned and the bruise ached. He touched it gingerly and winced.
“I see that,” Tomlinson replied.
“Why were you going to punch me?” Cade ventured.
“Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps because I thought you weredeadfor the last several years and you never lifted a finger to disabuse me of that notion until sending a letter yesterday asking me to meet you here.”
Cade winced again but this time for an entirely different reason. “A lot of people thought I was dead.”
“That doesn’t make it right.” Tomlinson thanked the barmaid who’d returned with his ale.
Cade tapped his foot against the dirty floor. “Look, I don’t have much time.”
Tomlinson pursed his lips. “Of course not. You never do. What are you looking for now?”
That’s what Cade liked about Tomlinson, the man was always direct. Cade settled back into his chair and took a deep breath. “What do you know about the Black Fox?”
