Notorious Pleasures (Maiden Lane #2)(76)
Author: Elizabeth Hoyt

Phoebe leaned forward to peer at her hand. “Isn’t that the earbob you lost at your engagement ball?”

“Yes.” Hero folded her fingers protectively around the little piece.

“But how wonderful that you’ve found it again,” Phoebe said. “It’s almost like having an entirely new set when one finds a lost earring, I always think.”

Hero raised her eyebrows in faint amusement. “How often do you lose earrings?”

“Quite often, I’m afraid,” Phoebe said. “They just seem to—”

“Your brother is as stubborn as a mule!” Cousin Bathilda cried as she entered the sitting room. Mignon barked as if to emphasize the pronouncement.

“He wouldn’t move the date?” Hero asked.

“Not only would he not move the date, but he also wouldn’t even discuss the matter.” Cousin Bathilda plopped onto the settee beside Hero, earning a growly grumble from Mignon. “Then he had the temerity to tell me that he had business to conduct and that our interview was over! Can you imagine? Where that man became so rude, I haven’t the faintest. Your mother was the height of civility, my dears, a true lady, even without the title, and I certainly never led him to believe that such conduct to his elders was a matter of course.”

Cousin Bathilda was busy twitching her skirts in her agitation, and the constant movement was apparently too much for Mignon. The little spaniel got up from her lap and delicately stepped onto Hero’s lap, where she settled with a long-suffering sigh.

Hero stroked Mignon’s silky ears. “Would you like some tea, Cousin?”

“Tea would be quite the thing,” Cousin Bathilda said. “But this pot has gone cold no doubt. Phoebe, will you be a dear and call for another?”

“Yes, Cousin Bathilda.” Phoebe obediently rose.

Bathilda cast a glance at the girl as she crossed to the door. “How much does she know of the matter, do you think?”

“Probably everything,” Hero said wearily. “The servants can’t help but overhear and they gossip, you know.”

“Wretched gossip!” Cousin Bathilda humphed. Phoebe returned and Bathilda smoothed her face. “Thank you, my dear. I’m glad to know that I instilled some manners in you girls at least.”

“I don’t think anyone could make Maximus do something he didn’t want to do, manners or not,” Phoebe said cheerfully. “He’s the duke, after all. Sometimes it’s hard to imagine him as anything else, but he must’ve been a baby with pap on his face once upon a time.” She frowned uncertainly. “He was, wasn’t he?”

“Of course!” Bathilda said. “He was an adorable baby, although very grave even when in leading strings. Your mother used to laugh at his solemn face.”

“Did she?” Phoebe leaned forward. She was always interested in discussions of their parents. Since she’d only been an infant when they died, she had no memories of them.

“Oh, yes,” Cousin Bathilda said, “though your father chided her for it. He said such solemnity in a boy would make a good duke in a man. And he was right—Maximus is a magnificent duke, even if he is stubborn as a mule.”

The maids entered with new tea things, and there was silence a moment as they cleared the old tea away and set out the new. Hero thanked them and they curtsied and quietly left the room.

“This looks nice and hot,” Cousin Bathilda said as she sat forward to pour. “Phoebe, would you like a dish? Hero?”

Hero shook her head, and Cousin Bathilda assembled a dish of tea for Phoebe and one for herself.

Cousin Bathilda sat back with her dish, inhaling the steam. “Ah, this is restorative. I can’t think why your brother must torment me so, my dears.”

“Perhaps his business was very important,” Phoebe offered as she sipped her own tea.

Cousin Bathilda snorted delicately. “He said so and perhaps thought so, but I don’t see how arresting some illicit gin maker in the worst part of St. Giles can be all that important no matter what he says or thinks.”

Mignon squeaked as Hero clutched involuntarily at her ear. Maximus was after a gin maker in St. Giles—today! Griffin had said just last night that he’d argued with Maximus. If Maximus saw Griffin as a threat to her marriage to Thomas, he might consider it a deed well done to get Griffin out of the way.

Hero shivered as fear raced up her spine. Her brother could be very ruthless, but surely—surely!—he wouldn’t move against Griffin when she was about to marry Thomas. Hadn’t he promised her? But, no, he hadn’t actually put the promise into words—he’d simply asked if she wanted Griffin arrested. The implication had been that he would have Griffin arrested if she didn’t marry Thomas. But after that, Griffin had argued with Maximus. Had Maximus decided to eliminate the threat that Griffin posed to her marriage to Thomas?

Cousin Bathilda glanced at her. “Something the matter, my dear?”

“I… I was just wondering when Maximus plans to arrest this gin distiller.” Hero dug her fingers into Mignon’s soft fur, and Mignon licked her hand.

“At this very moment,” Cousin Bathilda replied, causing Hero’s heart to nearly stop. “Well, soon in any case. He was muttering something about taking soldiers and finding his informant as he escorted me to his door.”

Hero leaned forward urgently. “Then he hasn’t done it yet? There’s still time?”

Cousin Bathilda looked startled and slowly lowered her teacup. “Why, yes, I suppose so, dear. Whyever do you ask?”

“I-I’ve remembered an appointment,” Hero said, standing and unceremoniously dumping Mignon to the floor. The little dog squawked and retreated under the settee. “Is the carriage still in front?”

“I don’t know,” Cousin Bathilda called behind Hero as she rushed to the door. “Hero, what is this about?”

But Hero was already in the outer hallway making for the stairs. She hadn’t time to explain to either Bathilda or Phoebe. She hadn’t time to find help. She had to go to St. Giles and warn Griffin before her brother threw him in gaol…

On a hanging charge.

THOMAS WAS SURPRISED to see a coach outside Lavinia’s house when he climbed down from his carriage late that afternoon. He frowned, a vague worry beginning to niggle at the back of his mind as he knocked at her door.

The imposing butler answered and scowled down at him. Thomas didn’t bother with any niceties. He brushed past the man, noticing crates and baskets piled against the walls of the hall.