Page 54 of A Problem Princess

“And my father?” Cordelia hesitated, and in that moment’s pause, Clayton saw a deep vulnerability. “Did you also know him?”

“I did. The prince was a good sovereign and a fine man, and he deeply loved his wife.” Madame paused and locked her gaze with Cordelia’s. Knowing Madame, Clayton worried about what she would say next until she murmured, “They both would have been very proud to see the fine woman their daughter has become.”

Cordelia nodded, satisfied with Madame’s answer, and looked away, but not before Clayton saw her blink rapidly.

Concern for her gripped him, along with that ever-present need to protect her. She was exhausted and overwrought by the night’s events, and she needed to rest. Desperately.

“A room,” he reminded Madame.

“The one next to my suite is available,” she informed him as she crossed to her writing desk and opened the drawer. “I keep it for emergencies.”

“What kind of emergencies?” Cordelia asked.

Madame tsked her tongue in gentle scolding. “Best not to ask too many questions while you’re here. You might not like the answers.”

She withdrew a key on a scarlet ribbon and dangled it from her hand as she sashayed back toward Clayton.

“Make yourself comfortable, General.” She slipped the key into his hand. Then she leaned toward him to bring her lips to his ear and warned in a low murmur, “But nottoocomfortable.”

She patted his chest as she stepped away.

Clayton tightened his jaw. He had no time for games. Ignoring the puzzled expression on Cordelia’s pale face, he took her arm and led her toward the door. He snatched up a candlestick as he passed a side table.

“We’ll need a tray of food sent up and a pail of hot water for Miss Smith if your kitchen can spare it.” He paused to light the candle on the oil lamp. “I also need to send a message. Ask your guard to find a random boy from the street who wants to earn a coin by delivering it.”

“You would trust me with that?” Madame asked.

“Not at all.” He held up the candle and said as calmly as the flickering of the small flame, “Butyoucan trust that I will kill you myself if you dare share one word about this to anyone.”

Without waiting for Madame’s response, Clayton led Cordelia to the spare room and closed the door securely behind them. For emergencies all right, he thought. The door had three locks.

The room was dark and cold, but it was also furnished with a well-appointed bed, dresser, writing desk, and chair. Everything they would need to hide here until Clayton could learn more about tonight’s attack.

Almost.He released her hand and began to search the room, first pulling open the desk drawer.

“We’re staying for the night, then?” Cordelia asked softly, remaining by the door.

“Yes.” He closed the drawer and went to the dresser. “We should know more by dawn.”

“You’re…friends with a brothel madame?”

He frowned into each drawer he opened and searched quickly through the clothes inside. “Not friends, exactly.”

“I see.”

He shot her a narrowed glance over his shoulder at what she’d implied. “We’re notthateither.”

“Yet you trust her?”

“No.” He closed the last drawer and turned away from the dresser to scan the room. “But I trust she’s self-serving enough to know with which side to ally herself.”

She frowned. “What are you searching for?”

“Madame Noir said she keeps this room for emergencies. Knowing Madame, that means…” His attention fell onto the bed, and he squatted beside it. A wooden box had been hidden beneath. He pulled it out, threw open the lid, and found what he’d been searching for. “Weapons.”

A small stash of arms of all kinds filled the box, including a brace of pistols, fresh powder, and balls. He quickly reloaded his two pistols.

“Will those be necessary?”