A Royal Kiss and Tell

“She’s the one you want, isn’t she? I told you, I can’t help you. I told the other gent that, too, when he came looking for her. Lord Hill, he turned us both out, and without any pay. Lord Russell, he didn’t like the way Lord Hill had done it, but he was kind enough to take me in until I could find another position. But Isidora, he wouldn’t take her, not her, because she was Weslorian, and he said he’d not involve himself in that. There, I’ve told you all I know, and now I really must go, Highness! If I lose my post, I’ve nowhere to go!”

“Hawke won’t turn you out—”

“He will, Highness, he will! Please, let me go.”

“Take a breath,” he said, realizing it was his own chest that felt tight. He was far out of his depth.

“I tried to help Isidora, on my word, I did, but she...she...” Miss Marble suddenly burst into tears.

“Oh no. Goodness, no,” Leo said, putting both hands up. “No, Miss Marble, you mustn’t weep. Why are you weeping?”

“She had no place to go, either, and now she...oh, she’s lost, the poor soul. Lost!”

Leo’s breath caught. “Do you mean she’s gone missing? Or...” He winced. “Dead?” he whispered.

Miss Marble looked up from blubbering into her hands and pinned him with a ferocious look. “She ain’t missing or dead. She’s working in a house of ill repute, that’s what. Right at Charing Cross. What was she to do? I begged Mrs. Mansfield to find something else for her—”

“Who is Mrs. Mansfield?” Leo asked, his head spinning.

Miss Marble’s eyes narrowed. “She owns the house where Issy stays now,” she said stiffly. “She said Issy was as safe with her as she was in some grand house, and if I didn’t leave her be, she’d take me in, too.” She glanced over her shoulder and gasped. “Molly’s looking for me! Please, Highness, don’t ask me again, I beg you.”

“Just one last question—who is the other gentleman who asked you about your friend?”

“I don’t know.” She turned to go.

“Wait! Where is Mrs. Mansfield? Where might I find her?”

“Charing Cross,” she repeated irritably.

“But Charing Cross is...”

It was too late—Miss Marble had fled, returning to the poultry man to collect her bundle, then rejoining her friend without once looking back.

Leo stepped out of the space between the stalls and looked around him. How the devil was he supposed to find a brothel with nothing more to go on than it was at or near Charing Cross? That wasn’t a street—it was a juncture of many streets.

He began to walk, his head down, thinking. He had no idea what he was doing, much less what he meant to do if he found any of these women. He was chasing rainbows and wandering around meat markets.

“Dear God, it’s you.”

Leo instantly stopped walking. He turned slightly and looked directly into the lovely green eyes of Lady Caroline. “I beg your pardon. It’s you.”

She suddenly beamed at him, clearly delighted with her find. She took in his plain hat, his unassuming coat, and her smile turned impossibly brighter. “Well, well, what have we here? What are you about today, Your Highness? Hungry for a leg of mutton, are you?”

It was impossible to imagine that this woman, who had been in bed just a few days ago, could look so beautiful. She was a tad too thin, but the glow of health had returned to her cheeks, and her eyes were glittering with wicked delight. “It may surprise you, Lady Caroline, but I like mutton as well as the next man.”

“Do you know what I find interesting?”

“No, but I’ve no doubt you will tell me.”

“That the last Alucian gentleman who dressed like this was your brother. He was sneaking about, as you may recall. Are you sneaking about?”

“I see that your impertinence has returned in full. It’s rather astonishing that I must say this aloud, but what I do is no concern of yours. I think the better question is why are you here at all? Were you not deathly ill only two days ago?”

“Three,” she said. “But I am blessed with a hearty constitution, and I bounce back like a rubber ball.” She moved closer. “Why are you prancing about Leadenhall market dressed as a regular Englishman?”

“I am not prancing—I am walking. You can’t possibly understand, given that you are not a prince, nor inclined to listen, but sometimes it is easier to go round dressed like a regular Englishman.”

“Is it,” she said skeptically.

“It is,” he assured her. “Shall I call someone to help you to your carriage? You oughtn’t to be about.”

Her brows dipped into a decided V over her smile. She stepped closer. “Will you not humor me and tell me why you are here, Highness?”

He shifted closer to her, too. He could see the deep green specks in the irises of her eyes, dancing little eddies, drawing him in. “Will you not humor me and tell me why it is you think you have license to interrogate me? Why does anyone enter a meat market? I want a chicken.”

Her brows rose with surprise and she smiled with delight. She leaned forward. “A chicken?” she asked, her gaze on his mouth.