Page 11 of The Seduction of Viscount Vice

The older man smiled eagerly, no doubt thinking of the handsome finder’s fee Vice had promised for a successful mission. “Four live in, m’lord. Two women and two men. One of the women is a Frenchie, you can tell by the accent. Short, very beautiful, blonde. One of the men is French, too. Skinny fellow, good-looking I suppose, if you like them dandified types.”

Vice stifled a smile at the man’s disapproving tone. “Go on. What about the other two?”

“The other man is quite a bull. Surly looking, big. I’d say he knows how to tear a carcass up with his bare hands, but his clothing is far too neat and clean. The other woman is a beauty as well, but about the opposite of the Frenchie. Very tall, like taller than me, even. Long, black curly hair. Lovely hair it is. Just a damned shame she ain’t got any pillows up front. Otherwise, I’d offer her coin myself—”

“That is quite enough,” said Vice softly.

“Begging your pardon, m’lord.” The man gulped visibly. “Didn’t mean no offense.”

“Good. What is your take on the state of the townhouse?”

“Well…I ain’t had much time to dig, you understand. Only since early this morning.”

“I know that. But what have you discovered?”

“My thinking is, the four of them ain’t just here to live. They are interviewing a lot of staff, maids and footmen, far more than you need for a townhouse. And all this furniture and whatnot…I reckon they might be starting up some sort of business.”

Vice tilted his head and narrowed his gaze on the man. “What kind of business, if you would hazard a guess?”

“Not sure, m’lord,” the investigator replied with a shrug. “But one expecting a lot of callers, that is for certain. Look at all them chaises and chairs. And the screens and gilt mirrors and huge cushion things. All bloody foreign. What is wrong with good, solid English furniture?”

“Hmm. Maybe a salon for ladies? Or an exclusive dressmaker perhaps?”

“Maybe. Do you want me to keep digging?”

Vice hesitated, then nodded. Now that he knew where Mairi lived, he could probably investigate by himself for a bit, but it never hurt to have the support of a professional. “Yes. Take a few days and write me up a thorough report. Here…” He handed the man two guineas. “For your trouble and discretion.”

“Much obliged, m’lord. And you needn’t worry about talk. Silent as the grave, I am. Part of my service.”

“All right then. You may go.”

After the investigator climbed out of the carriage and hurried away, Vice remained inside for a few more minutes, watching the men and women come and go from the townhouse. A few moved with purpose, but most needed a good kick up the backside. None of these people would last a day at Fallen with this sort of attitude. How was Mairi supposed to open a business with these nincompoops involved?

Scowling, he climbed out of his carriage and marched across the road. Mairi might well slap his face for intervening, especially after what he’d done the previous evening at the Castlereaghs’, but he couldn’t abide laziness. Or haphazard clutter. And the combination of both occurring outside Mairi’s townhouse was about to give him an apoplexy.

“Lord Vissen!”

Startled at the rare use of his actual title, he looked up to see a familiar face standing at the top of the front steps. Here was confirmation at least that the investigator had done his job. Jealousy quickly swirled, alongside a strange mix of gratitude and resentment—even though he knew of Ramsey’s preference for men. Mairi’s manservant had gotten ten years of her company. This man had kept Mairi safe while they lived abroad, but they never should have been in Paris in the first place.

“Ramsey,” he said eventually. “You look well.”

“It’s good to be back on British soil, my lord. Unfortunately, London is as close to the Highlands as I’m likely to get nowadays.”

Vice grimaced. The law truly was an ass when it came to criminalizing two adults in love, just because both were men. And even though it had been ten years, village folk had long memories when it came to scandals and accusations of so-called deviant behavior. Fuck, even now he could recall the vicious rumors that had flown like arrows after Ramsey had run and taken Mairi with him. Fallen was a sanctuary that welcomed all couples, but it meant anonymity was even more important because the punishment was so severe. “I’ll send over some decent whisky. A wee dram will help make English food more palatable at least.”

The manservant stared at him, visibly swallowing. “That would…that would be most appreciated, my lord. Can I assist you with something?”

“I’m here to see Lady Mairi.”

“Oh.” Ramsey’s gaze shifted. “She’s out and about at the moment.”

“Where?”

“Bonnet shopping.”

Vice sighed and began to climb the steps. “To match her breeches?”

“Yes. No. Please, my lord, Lady Mairi is not receiving visitors today.”