Free The Seduction of Phaeton Black by Jillian Stone Page B

brightened.
    “I’ll think of more.” He whisked by and gave her posterior a pat. “Those buns of yours are heavenly, Miss Jones.”
     
    Phaeton clenched his stomach to take the blows. After being pushed across the ring, Zander had him against the ropes. Dripping sweat, he held up a gloved hand to signal a break. Several months off the job, and he’d gone soft.
    To relieve a kink, he lifted one shoulder, then the other, rolling his head side to side. A pale, trifling bit of illumination filtered through the skylight, which left the sparring arenas poorly lit. Above the glass panes, a thick black fog blanketed London. Shadows hovered in every corner and niche of the gymnasium. An attendant turned up a nearby gas lamp. The hiss mingled with the slaps and thuds of padded leather gloves smacking human flesh.
    “Had enough?”
    He shook his head. “One more round.”
    Barely winded, his sparring partner grinned. “Sure of that, Phaeton?”
    What was Zander Farrell? Ten years older and in better condition. It rankled. He punched his gloves together. “Just give me two minutes and we’ll go again.”
    Zander leaned against the corner post. “It was your idea to meet at my athletic club. Any news to report?”
    Still breathing hard, Phaeton exhaled. “I may have a chance at the enigmatic Doctor Exeter this afternoon.”
    “So, the fisticuffs. A little late to prepare for that mysterious fellow, don’t you think?”
    Phaeton ducked his head and wiped away sweat with the back of his forearm. “Received a tip from one of the whores, a fairly reliable source. It seems a tall, austere gentleman arrives most every Thursday around teatime. He greets no one in the salon, but goes directly upstairs to Esmeralda’s apartment and often stays well into the evening.”
    “You plan on interrupting the man’s weekly coitus?” Zander’s frown was formidable.
    “Reports of my fearlessness are greatly exaggerated. I am not daft.”
    “Why all the mounting interest in Exeter?”
    “Mounting? You’ll have to ask Esmeralda about that. Besides the fact that he irritates, I get the feeling Exeter and I are both after the same culprit.” He pounded gloved fists together. “Whether Chilcott cares to admit it or not, we’re in over our heads. I believe we can use this man—I need to know what he knows.”
    Zanderx drilled into him with those deep indigo, all-seeing eyes. “I may have a bit more on the doctor for you, background mostly. It seems he is the only surviving son of Orius Exeter, Baron de Roos, Premier Baron of England. Ancient title, one of the oldest in the kingdom. And here’s the rub, no one is completely sure the reclusive Baron is dead. There were reports last spring the old man succumbed to a wretched disease of some kind, but I could find no record of it. No death certificate or funeral notice.”
    “Nicely Gothic and ghoulish. Soon, I shall have enough material to write a novel.” Phaeton absently studied an apparition sitting in a darkened corner, an ephemeral, greyish gargoyle. The creature perched on a stool, chin cupped in clawed hand. Whenever portals from the netherworld opened, he never knew quite what to expect. Would it be a hellish beast or a pestering fairy? Occasionally they lingered and were bothersome, like the fiendish trickster in the shadows. In due course, most demons dissolved into the mist, a gallery of faded ghosts from his past.
    Zander bit back a grin. “If you insist on writing up your exploits, be sure to change up names and make yourself a hired detective, otherwise you’ll give Chilcott an apoplexy.”
    “I’ll use a nom de plume , Lavender Lavishe, no one shall be the wiser.” Phaeton sashayed out into the ring and affected a flamboyant bow. “Youth before beauty, Mr. Farrell.”
    Zander pushed off the ropes. “As long as you concede I am the prettier one.”
     
    Phaeton slipped out of Lizzie’s room and quietly shut the door. He leaned against flock-work wallpaper and