Page 30 of The Viscount of Shadows

A tea tray sat on the small table by the settee. Oliver swept his arm toward the area where the sofa and two wing chairs were located near the fireplace. A small fire crackled in the hearth. It was the sixth of October, and a noticeable chill lingered in the air.

Claudia gave him a slight nod and headed toward one of the wing chairs. Oliver sat opposite. Again, she wore the gray wool skirt and jacket and carried a leather satchel. Once seated, she pulled off her kid gloves and laid them over the arm of the chair.

“Good afternoon, my lord.”

So, it was going to be like this: formal and distant. There was no use calling Claudia on it.

Caramel meowed and rubbed against Claudia’s wool skirt. She looked down at the cat, and her face lit up. It was the most astonishing thing. It enhanced her beauty if that were possible. “Oh, how adorable. So pretty! I wasn’t aware that you had a cat.”

“A recent event. I found the hungry kitty on the street, and she adopted me.”

Claudia glanced up and caught his gaze. Was there a softening in her eyes, or was it his overeager imagination again? If so, he would gladly adopt fifty stray cats if only to see that warm and luminous expression. Claudia rubbed under the cat’s chin for several moments, then, satisfied, Caramel headed toward her cushion and settled in.

“Would you mind pouring, Miss Ellingford?” Oliver kept his voice steady and his tone reserved. Hard to do since his insides quivered with desire. He wanted to pull her out of the chair, gather her in his arms, and kiss her until he ceased to breathe.

She sat the pouch at her feet. “Of course, my lord.” Claudia went through the motions, passing him a cup of tea.

Oliver could not resist. Taking the saucer, he trailed his index finger along hers, watching closely for any reaction. It was subtle, but there, nonetheless. A slight flush to her cheek, and she did not pull her hand away for several moments. As for him, that subtle touch of skin against skin stirred the simmering embers into a full-on blaze.

Claudia sipped her tea, staring at him frankly as if she were about to mention their brief contact. Instead, she placed the cup on its saucer and opened her case, bringing forth a ream of papers. “I have the report from The Velvet Vine, my lord.”

“Read it aloud. If you please.”

Though initially eager for the activities to begin, Bryan Wollstonecraft was told by his mates that he had to pass an initiation before joining the fray. One of the male sex workers would suck him off and bring him to completion. The young man balked, and an argument ensued, with punches being thrown. My men immediately entered the salon and broke up the fight. I informed the men that they were effectively banned from this establishment forthwith.

Claudia looked up from the paper. Did she just say, “suck him off?” The image formed in his mind; only Claudia did so to him. And enthusiastically. He shook his head. This was not the time for erotic daydreams. Oliver would save that particular fantasy for later at night.

“Do you wish me to continue?” she asked, watching him closely.

“There is more?”

Claudia nodded.

“Then, by all means.”

The viscount did not take it well. Shinwell broke furniture, cursed, and punched one of the male workers. I threw him out on his ear. The following morning, I received your note stating that Shinwell, Linton, and Tolwood were no longer part of The Rakes Club and that Bryan Wollstonecraft was never in the association. I must be more diligent in admitting certain people going forward. In that vein, I had one of my men (not included in the fight) follow Shinwell et al. to other brothels. They ultimately wound up at The Crowing Cock, in Spitalfields, and the four of them hired six females. They were there the rest of the night.

I have let it be known to the higher-class brothels that we are in contact with to shun Shinwell et al. in the future. Please pass on this information to Chellenham and The Rakes because Shinwell is still using their club to gain entry into various places of vice.

Claudia folded the paper and tucked it into her satchel. Then, she passed him another form. It was a well-drawn map of the tangle of streets and lanes in the Notting Dale area. Various boxes were labeled, identifying places his brother had no doubt been.

“Honestly speaking, my lord, I cannot see this surveillance continuing. You have ample proof that your brother indulges in selective vices and the locations. Your brother and his flatmates have not ventured to the East End since that night. They have, however, hosted various entertainments in their flat. Tolwood was in attendance at the most recent gathering. I spoke to the landlord; he has already received complaints about the noise and has given them a warning. If they are evicted, you can bet they will find lodgings in less pristine settings.”

“And the downward spiral will continue,” Oliver said, frowning.

“Yes, it will persist. The young men spend much of their time at the Black Moon Pub, as I have learned some prostitutes use the rooms upstairs to conduct their business. The place next door? The shack? It has a small opium den in the rear. Out front? They sell tea and other goods.”

“An opium den. ‘Where one could buy oblivion, dens of horror where the memory of old sins could be destroyed by the madness of sins that were new.’ Oliver Wilde.”

“He is an author, correct? Is that from a book?” Claudia asked.

“Yes. The Picture of Dorian Gray. Wilde was just released from prison last May, where he served two years for gross indecency. I hear he is a shell of his former self and in poor health due to his incarceration.” Oliver remained silent for several moments. “So, has Bryan partaken?”

“I had no way to gain access, my lord. But seeing his state when he emerged with the others, a burst of euphoria and the like, I can assume your brother indulged in something.” Claudia picked up the cup and sipped her tea. “I can inform Eleanora Galway to finalize the bill.”

“No.”

Claudia arched an eyebrow at him. “No? My lord, I just told you there is nothing more I can do. Continuing with the surveillance will just be more of the same. And an added expense for you.”

“I said before to call me Tensbridge. Give me two more weeks, and I will personally pay you a bonus. With the Galway sisters’ permission, of course.” Yes, he offered a bribe, but he really wanted further observation to ensure his brother did not run afoul of the rookery boss, Danaher. “A few weeks ago, I met the Duke of Chellenham’s older half-brother. He is a detective at the Lancaster Road precinct. Perhaps he can give you information on the criminal element in the area. His name is Mitchell Simpson.”

“I am already aware of the criminal element. The rookery boss tried to recruit me to be one of his girls working on Bangor Street. He was not best pleased when I turned him down. That is another reason I am not keen to return to The Piggeries. My disguises would have to be more intricate.”

Jesus. She had a run-in with Danaher? “Then forget I even requested it. I do not want to place you in any danger.”

Her mouth quirked. “I am in danger the moment I step foot into that area; anyone is. I can handle myself. In fact, I will continue for two more weeks. I will gain Eleanora’s acceptance of the deal. And I agree to the bonus. However, it will be just between us. I will require twenty pounds. Is that satisfactory, Tensbridge? Shall we shake on it?”

God, she was fierce.

His admiration for her grew, as well as his desire.

He held out his hand across the table. “Then, it is a deal.”