The Raven Prince (Princes #1)(40)
Author: Elizabeth Hoyt

“Mrs. Anna Wren.” He raised his glass precariously. “A toast! A toast to the most un-un-unblemished lady in England. Mrs. Anna Wren!”

The tavern erupted in boisterous cheers and toasts to the lady. And Edward wondered why all the lights went out suddenly.

HIS HEAD WAS coming apart. Edward opened his eyes, but then immediately thought better of that idea and squeezed them shut again. Carefully, he touched his temple and tried to think why the top of his head felt like it was about to explode.

He remembered Aphrodite’s Grotto.

He remembered the woman not showing up.

He remembered a fight. Edward grimaced and gingerly probed with his tongue. His teeth were all intact. That was good news.

His mind strained.

He remembered meeting a jolly fellow…. Big Bob? Big Bert? No, Big Billy. He remembered—Oh, God. He remembered toasting Anna in the worst hellhole he had ever had the misfortune to drink watered-down ale in. His stomach rolled unpleasantly. Had he really bandied Anna’s name about in such a place? Yes, he thought he had. And, if he recalled correctly, the whole roomful of disreputable rogues had bawdily toasted her.

He moaned.

Davis opened the door, letting it bang against the wall, and slowly shuffled into the room bearing a laden tray.

Edward moaned again. The sound of the door had nearly made his scalp separate from his skull. “Damn your eyes. Not now, Davis.”

Davis continued on his snaillike course to the bed.

“I know you can hear me,” he spoke slightly louder, but not too loud, for fear of setting his head off again.

“Been in our cups have we, m’lord?” Davis shouted.

“I didn’t know you’d overindulged as well,” Edward said from behind the hands covering his face.

Davis ignored this. “Lovely gents what brought you home last night. New friends of yours?”

Edward parted his fingers to shoot a glare at his valet.

Evidently it bounced harmlessly off the man. “Bit long in the tooth to be guzzling so much, m’lord. Might lead to gout at your age.”

“I’m overwhelmed by your concern for my health.” Edward looked at the tray Davis had now managed to set on the bedside table. It held a cup of tea, already cold, judging by the scum floating on top, and a bowl of milk-toast. “What the hell is this? Nursery pap? Bring me some brandy to settle this head.”

Davis pretended deafness with an aplomb that would have done justice to the finest stage in London. He had had many years of practice, after all.

“Here’s a lovely breakfast to put vigor back into you,” the valet bawled in his ear. “Milk is very strengthening for a man at your age.”

“Get out! Get out! Get out!” Edward roared, and then had to hold his head again.

Davis retreated to the door, but he couldn’t resist a parting shot. “Need to watch your temper, m’lord. Might go all red in the face and buggy-eyed with apoplexy. Nasty way to go, that.”

He scooted through the door with amazing dexterity for a man his age. Just before the bowl of milk-toast hit.

Edward groaned and closed his eyes, his head flopping back on the pillow. He ought to get up and start packing to go home. He’d obtained a fiancée and visited the Grotto, not once, but twice. He had, in fact, done all he’d meant to do when he’d decided to travel to London. And even if he felt far worse now than he had when he’d first come, there was no point in staying in the city. The little whore wouldn’t return, he would never encounter her again, and he had responsibilities of his own to see to. And that was as it should be.

There was no room in his life for a mysterious masked woman and the transitory pleasure she brought.

Chapter Twelve

The days and nights passed as if in a dream, and Aurea was content. Perhaps she was even happy. But after several months, she began to have an urge to see her father. The urge grew and grew until all her waking moments were filled with a longing for her father’s face, and she became listless and sad.

One night at dinner, the raven turned the bright ebony bead of his eye upon her and said, “What causes this malaise I sense in you, my wife?”

“I long to see my father’s face again, my lord,” Aurea sighed. “I miss him.”

“Impossible!” the raven squawked, and left the table without another word.

But Aurea, although she never made complaint, so missed her parent that she stopped eating and only picked at the delicacies set before her. She began to waste away until one day the raven could no longer stand it. He flapped into her room angrily.

“Go, then, and visit your sire, wife,” he cawed. “But be very sure that you return within a fortnight, for I would pine were you to stay longer.”

—from The Raven Prince

“Oh, my goodness!” Anna exclaimed the next day. “What have you done to your face?”

She would notice the bruises. Edward halted and glowered at her. She hadn’t seen him in five days, and the first words out of her mouth were an accusation. Briefly, he tried to imagine any of his previous, male secretaries daring to comment on his appearance. It was impossible. In fact, he couldn’t think of anyone, save his current female secretary, who made such impertinent comments to him. Oddly, he found her impertinence endearing.

Not that he let it show. Edward raised a brow and tried to put his secretary in her place. “I have done nothing to my face, thank you, Mrs. Wren.”

It had no noticeable effect.

“You can’t call that black eye and the bruises on your jaw nothing.” Anna looked disapproving. “Have you put any salve on it yet?”

She sat in her usual place at the small rosewood desk in his library. She looked serene and golden in the morning light from the window, as if she hadn’t moved from the desk the entire time he had been in London. It was a strangely comforting thought. Edward noted that she had a small smudge of ink on her chin.

And something was different about her appearance.

“I haven’t used any salve, Mrs. Wren, because there is no reason to.” He tried to walk the remaining feet to his desk without limping.

Naturally, she noticed that, too. “And your leg! Why are you limping, my lord?”

“I am not limping.”

She arched her eyebrows so high, they nearly disappeared into her hairline.

Edward was forced to glare in order to emphasize the lie. He tried to think of an explanation for his injuries that wouldn’t make him look a total fool. He certainly couldn’t tell his little secretary that he’d been in a brawl at a brothel.