Pleasuring the Prince Read Online Free PDF Page A

“Alexander works with Constable Amadeus Black. Have you heard of him?”
    “All London knows the constable.” Stepan looked at the other man. “Are you close to an arrest in the rose-petal murders?”
    Alexander shook his head. “He preys upon singers, dancers, and actresses. Only the beautiful ones, of course.”
    “He could be a she,” Raven suggested, making everyone smile. “She could be jealous of beauty denied her. Isn’t that called motivation?”
    “Women do not usually kill in cold blood,” Alexander told her. “A good investigator eliminates the probable before turning his attention to the possible.”
    “How does he kill them?” Fancy asked.
    “We have not determined that yet,” Alexander answered, “but he slashes their faces after death.”
    “How do you know the slashing is done postmortem?” Stepan asked.
    “Blood settles after a body expires,” Alexander explained. “Their facial slashes are bloodless.”
    “Ladies, I urge you to extreme caution until this monster is apprehended.” Stepan set his glass on the table and turned to Fancy. “I must leave you now.” He looked at the other man. “And so must you, Blake.”
    Stepan nodded at the sisters and headed for the foyer, calling over his shoulder, “Come along, Blake.”
    Both men were passing through the foyer when the sound of crashing crystal reached them. Stepan paused and looked over his shoulder in the direction of the dining room.
    “Oops,” one of the sisters exclaimed.
    “You must control your anger,” the opera singer said. “We are running low on glasses.”
    The front door closed behind Stepan.
    “Who appointed you their guardian?” Alexander challenged him. “Fancy won’t give you what you want.”
    Stepan stared at his rival. “You do not know what I want.”
    “Are you planning to marry her?”
    “My plans are none of your business.”
    “If you hurt her,” Blake threatened, “I will tear you into pieces and feed your bones to Puddles.”
    “I intend to live to a ripe old age.” Stepan turned to walk to his coach but paused to ask, “Do you need a lift somewhere?”
    “No, thank you, Your Highness.” Alexander gave him a smug smile. “I live next door.”
    Stepan swore in Russian and climbed into his coach.
     
    “You won’t hit me, will you?”
    “No.”
    “Are you certain?”
    “No.”
    Fancy and Belle stood in the small garden behind their Soho Square home late the following morning. The day was a spring rarity of clear sky, warm sunshine, and a gentle breeze, which enticed the winter-weary plants to grow. Cheerful yellow forsythia nodded gaily to their old friends, the purple and gold pansies, hiding in characteristic shyness beneath the shade of the oak tree.
    “Hold the target out straight to the side of your body.”
    Belle gave Fancy a nervous look. Then she lifted the two-inch-square paper up and away from her body.
    Standing ten feet from her sister, Fancy took a white marble pellet from one pocket and her slingshot from another. She held the forked wooden stick, placed the pellet on the flexible tubing, and aimed for her target.
    Whoosh! Fancy let the pellet fly.
    “You hit dead center.” Belle laughed in relief.
    “I’ll back up another five paces and shoot from there.”
    Belle walked toward her. “I refuse to tempt fate by holding the target again.”
    Fancy feigned a hurt expression. “You don’t trust me?”
    “I came outside to work in the garden, not participate in your target practice. You should try gardening yourself, Sister, and learn to relax.”
    Fancy touched her sister’s shoulder. “I need you to tell me how to get rid of the prince without insulting him.”
    Belle patted her hand. “Give the man a chance.”
    “A chance for what?” she countered. “You cannot believe his intentions are honorable and include an offer of marriage.”
    Her sister shrugged. “You never know what fate has planned.”
    “I know what fate does not have planned,” Fancy