Free Lady Vice by Wendy LaCapra Page B

return.”
    “Lord Vaile was murdered last night,” Max said.
    The duke looked down his nose. “Yes, I heard. Montechurch believes Lady Vaile is guilty.”
    “I have history with Lady Vaile, and have offered my help protecting her from a warrant. The duchess wishes to help her friend as well. If you were to take an interest…”
    “I may ingratiate myself to my duchess,” the duke finished. He sucked in his wounded cheek, considering. “You’ve offered your help, you say?”
    “Yes.”
    “Was that wise?”
    No. “I have known Lady Vaile my whole life.” True. “I am certain of her innocence.” Almost.
    Oh, he knew she had not pulled the trigger, but she hid something, and he feared the worst. The Furies held profitable soirees, and Vaile, by order of coverture and her trust, had been paying her personal expenses. Lavinia had enough money to buy, well, anything.
    “You do not know my wife,” Wynchester said. “Winning her will take more than a shared purpose.”
    “A shared purpose cannot hurt,” Max pointed out.
    “I will consider. God knows, with Eustace gone, I need an heir.” Wynchester set down his glass and placed his fists on the desk. “Setting aside my duchess, I must warn you. You have influence in Commons because the other MP’s trust you. Any association with Lady Vaile will bring you harm. Others are eager to take your place.”
    “So quick to forget my loyalty, are you?”
    “A lesser man would already be gone.”
    Max bit his cheek to keep from telling the duke he could take his rotten borough straight to the devil. The door rattled under a knock.
    “Enter,” he said in unison with the duke.
    Geste opened the door. Either a devilish ghoul or an extremely irate street urchin hung from his grip.
    Max pinched his nose between his eyes and inhaled. “Let the boy speak, Geste.”
    The boy wiggled from the butler’s grasp and threw Geste a glare of unadulterated outrage. The child’s stench smothered the pleasant, lemony smell of freshly waxed furniture.
    The boy clenched his fists. “Sully told me to get me message to Harrison straight away,” the boy said in breathless puffs. “I ain’t to give no one else me message but Harrison!”
    “Your Grace, would you excuse us?” Max asked.
    “Very well. Call on me tomorrow at eleven. We will finish this discussion after we go over the latest version of Burke’s bill.”
    “Of course.” He was damn right they’d finish. “Leave the visitor, Geste. I will take care of this.”
    The boy snapped his head toward Geste and a cloud of dust scattered. “Ha.”
    “Tomorrow,” the duke said as he departed.
    Geste remained behind the urchin, arms crossed.
    “That will be all, Geste.”
    Geste sniffed as he turned, muttering to the duke about upside-down worlds where masters used mews entrances and urchins were welcomed through the hall.
    True, filth marked the boy’s progress through the entry. Islands of brown dirt dotted his ripped clothing. Sullivan must have been in a hurry if he failed to instruct his messenger to rally a stable boy and use the back entrance.
    Max waited until the click of the butler’s shoes muted, and then he knelt.
    “I am Harrison,” Max said. “You did a very good job, master… What is your name?”
    “Jem.” The boy’s black eyes narrowed. “I thank ye for the compliment, but don’t be callin’ me ‘master,’ ’cause I ain’t a nob.” Jem jutted out his grimy chin.
    “My apologies.” Max sucked away a smirk and clapped the boy on the shoulder. “Now Jem, tell me exactly what Sullivan said.”
    “Sullivan?” The boy drew his brows together. “Oh, Sully ye means! I am ’ta tell ye he be takin’ the bird to Vauxhall where she’s got some sort of meetin’ but he don’t know what. He means to get it from ’ta maid, when ’ta bird flies.”
    “I see.”
    Lavinia was on her way to Vauxhall. She planned to leave her maid in Sully’s hackney. Sully could not follow her without rousing the