“We may even be able to coax it back to life again,” the redhead put in with a smirk. “Your horse, that is.”
Samuel disentangled his arm from the brunette’s grasp. “There’sno dead horse.”
“Your favorite hunting dog, then? It must be something. We don’t often see gentlemen wallowing in misery here at the Pink Pearl, do we, Clarissa?” The brunette turned to address the red-haired lady beside her.
“The married ones often look miserable when they arrive, but they’re cheerful enough when they leave.” The redhead fluttered a pair of pale lashes at Samuel. “I daresay you’re very handsome without that scowl. Shall we go upstairs and see?”
“No, thank you. I’m not looking for female companionship this evening.” Samuel had another matter to attend to, one he hadn’t shared with Lovell.
“You do realize you’re in a brothel, do you not?” The blonde’s red lips curled in amocking smile.
Samuel frowned. “I’m aware, madam. I’m looking for a lady—”
“Ah.” The brunette clapped her hands. “Now we’re getting somewhere. What sort of ladies do you prefer, my lord?”
“Notladies. Just one lady, by the name of Caroline Francis. Do you know of her?”
“Must it be Caroline, or will any dark-haired lady do?” The brunette trailed her finger down his arm.
Samuel blinked down at the teasing finger. “No, it must be her.”
The brunette’s lips turned down. “Pity.”
Rather a pity for Caroline Francis, yes. Samuel doubted she’d be pleased to seehim,once she found out who he was, and the reason he’d come here. Ladies weren’t usually eager to discuss the story of their ruination, particularly when it ended with the heroine on her back at an infamousLondon brothel.
Still, better to turn up at a brothel than not to turn up at all. Did Caroline Francis have any notion how fortunate she was not to have met a much grimmer fate? If not, Samuel intended to make her aware of it, and of what she owed to the two other girls who hadn’tbeen as lucky.
“It seems Caroline’s in luck tonight.” The redhead touched the tip of her tongue to her bottom lip as her gaze wandered over him. “You’re a big, strong one, aren’t you? Such a shame, but I suppose our loss will be Caroline’s gain.”
“Indeed, but perhaps all hope isn’tquitelost. I haven’t seen Caroline at all this evening. Now I think on it, I believe she mentioned she had a private engagement, and would be gone all night.”
All night? Damn it, what cursed luck.
The brunette gave Samuel a smoldering look from under her lashes. “If you have a penchant for dark-haired ladies, my lord, I’d be pleasedto accompany—”
“That won’t be necessary, madam.”
Her lips turned down in a sullen pout, and she turned away from him with an offended flounce of her skirts.“As you wish.”
Not having any place else to go, Samuel wandered down the nearest hallway, pausing when he reached the music room. A trill of notes spilled through the open door, and he peered inside and found one of Madame Marchand’s young ladies performing on the pianoforte, accompanied by a soprano in a yellow silk gown so tight he couldn’t imagine how she had thebreath to sing.
At another time he might have stayed to listen, but he didn’t care to fend off any more eager courtesans. He didn’t fancy returning to the drawing room either, so he moved toward a door at the end of the corridor. He half-expected someone to follow him and demand to know where he was going, but it seemed Madame Marchand’s guests were permitted to wander where they pleased.
The door latch gave under his hand, and he entered the dim space. It was deserted, the fire burned down to embers, but despite the chill Samuel wandered over to a large, overstuffed chair in the corner and dropped into it.
Ah, yes. This would do nicely. He might bide his time here without anyone disturbing him until Lovell was—
Click.
Samuel peered through the gloom, his eyes widening when a figure appeared on the other side of a pair of glass doors leading from a garden terrace. She was small—certainly a lady—but her face and hair were hidden by a dark, shapeless cloak with a deep hood.
He remained still, watching as the slender figure slipped inside, closed the door behind her, and glided further into the room, her movements so fluid not even the faintest shuffle of footsteps marked her progress. It was as if she were a wraith, floating inches above the ground, or some sylphlike creature too ethereal to bother with anything so mundane as footsteps.
Sylphlike, ethereal, footless wraiths?
Samuel grimaced at his fanciful thoughts. He was just about to rise from his chair and make his presence known when the wraith stopped him with awhispered word.
“Letty?”
