The Raven Prince (Princes #1)(30)
Author: Elizabeth Hoyt

“Do you know what this is?” he asked Miss Gerard.

Sylvia bent to examine the flower. “No, my lord.” Her smooth brows knit. “Shall I ask the gardener for you?”

“No need.” He straightened and dusted off his hands. “I just wondered.”

They’d reached the end of the path where a little stone bench squatted against the garden wall.

Edward withdrew a large white handkerchief from his coat and laid it on the bench. He gestured with one hand. “Please.”

The girl settled gracefully and folded her hands in her lap.

He clasped his hands behind his back and absently watched the little yellow flower. “Does this alliance suit you, Miss Gerard?”

“Perfectly, my lord.” Sylvia didn’t look at all perturbed by the bluntness of his question.

“Then will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Good.” Edward bent to kiss the dutifully presented cheek.

His wig itched more than ever.

“THERE YOU ARE.” Coral’s voice broke the silence in the little library. “I am glad you found something of interest.”

Anna nearly dropped the illustrated book in her hands. She whirled to find the other woman watching her with an amused look on her face.

“I’m sorry. I guess I’m still keeping country hours. When I came down to the breakfast room, they weren’t ready yet. The maid said I could look in here.” Anna held up the open book in her hands as evidence, and then hastily lowered it when she remembered the explicit engravings inside.

Coral glanced at the volume. “That one is very good, but you might find this one more helpful for what you plan tonight.” She crossed to another shelf, took down a slim green volume, and pressed it into Anna’s hands.

“Oh. Um… thank you.” Anna knew she was turning seven shades of red. Rarely had she been so mortified in her life.

In her yellow-sprigged morning gown, Coral looked no older than sixteen. She might have been a young lady of good family about to go out calling on other girlish acquaintances. Only her eyes spoiled the illusion.

“Come. Let us break our fast together.” Coral led the way into the breakfast room where Pearl already sat.

There was a full sideboard of hot dishes, but Anna found she didn’t have much appetite. She settled in a chair across from Coral with a plate of toast.

After they ate, Pearl excused herself and Coral leaned back in her chair. Anna felt her shoulder blades tense.

“Now,” her hostess said, “perhaps we should make some plans for this evening.”

“What do you suggest?” Anna asked.

“I have several dresses you might want to look at. Any one of them can be altered to fit you. In addition, we should discuss sponges.”

“I beg your pardon?” Anna blinked. How were bathing sponges going to help her?

“You may not be aware of them.” Coral sipped her tea serenely. “Sponges that can be inserted into the female body to prevent a child.”

Anna’s mind froze on the thought. She’d never heard of such a thing. “I… that’s probably not necessary. I was married for four years without conceiving.”

“Then we will disregard them.”

Anna fingered her teacup.

Coral continued, “Do you plan to attend the downstairs reception at Aphrodite’s Grotto to pick out a likely male or”—she regarded Anna shrewdly—“or do you have a specific gentleman you would like to meet there?”

Anna hesitated and took a sip of tea. How far could she trust Coral? Until now, she had rather naïvely followed Coral’s lead, had literally done everything the woman had suggested. But she hardly knew her, after all. Could she entrust her with what she really wanted—with, in fact, Lord Swartingham’s name?

Coral seemed to understand her silence. “I am a whore,” she said. “And in addition to that, I am not a nice woman. But despite these facts, my word is gold.” She watched Anna intently, as if it were very important that she believe her. “Gold. I swear to you that I will not knowingly harm or betray you or anyone who you hold dear.”

“Thank you.”

Coral’s mouth twisted. “It is I who should thank you. Not everyone would take the word of a prostitute seriously.”

Anna ignored that. “Yes, as you have guessed, I’d like to meet a particular gentleman.” She took a deep breath. “The Earl of Swartingham.”

Coral’s eyes widened infinitesimally. “Have you made an appointment to rendezvous with Lord Swartingham at Aphrodite’s Grotto?”

“No. He has no knowledge of this,” Anna said firmly. “Nor do I want him to.”

The other woman gave a tiny, breathy laugh. “Forgive me, I am puzzled. You wish to spend the night with the earl—intimately—without him being aware of it. Do you plan to drug him?”

“Oh, no. You mistake me.” Her face must be permanently stained a deep red by this point, but Anna struggled on. “I do wish to spend the night with the earl—intimately. I just don’t want him to know it is me, as it were.”

Coral smiled and tilted her head skeptically. “How?”

“I’m explaining this badly.” Anna blew out a sigh and tried to order her thoughts. “You see, the earl has traveled to London on business. I have reason to believe that he’ll visit Aphrodite’s Grotto, probably tonight.” She bit her lip. “Although, I’m not sure exactly when.”

“That can be ascertained,” Coral said. “But how do you propose that he not know you?”

“Pearl has said that many ladies and demimondaines wear a mask when they visit Aphrodite’s Grotto. I thought I might wear one as well.”

“Hmm.”

“You don’t think it will work?” Anna anxiously tapped at the side of her teacup.

“You are employed by the earl, are you not?”

“I’m his secretary.”

“In that case, you must be aware there is a much higher chance of him finding you out,” Coral warned.

“But if I wear a mask—”

“There is still your voice, your hair, your figure.” Coral ticked off each point on the tips of her fingers. “Even your scent, if he has been near enough to you.”

“You’re right, of course.” Anna felt close to tears.

“I am not saying it cannot be done,” Coral reassured her coolly. “Just… You do understand the risks?”