Butler or Green say anything about the stranger?”
“As I said, they weren’t talkers. Didn’t deserve what they got.”
Unless they hadn’t been killed for talking, but for failing. Which suggested whoever’d hired them wanted others to know he expected the job to get done.
“Those two did seem to have a good amount of extra blunt after that meet-up. Whatever the bloody rotter wanted them to do, he’d paid well for it.”
“You see or hear anything more on this, you let me know.”
There was only a slight hesitation before Reid nodded.
“I’ll be seeing you.”
After a brief and productive stop at the docks in Wapping, Mason made his way back toward the West End and Pendragon’s Pleasure House.
His sister’s high-class brothel was also closed for the day, but Mason walked around the large, understated brick building to the service door. A man with a forbidding grimace blocked his way before recognizing him with a bow of his head and a quick shuffle to the side.
“Mr. Hale. Is Madam expecting you?”
Mason grinned. “Of course not. You know I like to surprise her.”
In all honesty, Mason made it his mission to tease and torment his older sister whenever he had the chance. Callista wielded an obscene amount of power as custodian for the most debauched sexual secrets of London’s high society, but she had a way of forgetting anything existed beyond her business. Mason considered it his duty to remind her that life didn’t have to be all work and no play.
Though the rest of London knew her as the enigmatic and seductive Madam Pendragon, Mason would never forget how she’d done her best to protect him from their father’s wrath until she’d been forced out to make her way on her own. Her business and her personal success would always be Callista’s top priority, but Mason came in a sure second.
As far as he knew, there was nothing after him.
The doorman shook his head and returned to his post. “Just be sure to tell her I did my duty to try to stop ya.”
“Always,” Mason called over his shoulder as he strode down the darkened hall to the back stairs that led up to his sister’s personal rooms. He suspected she’d be in her sitting room, enjoying a final drink before retiring for the day.
The lush red carpeting cushioned his steps, allowing him to approach silently. Still, before he stepped into the doorway, Callista called out from within. “Don’t lurk in the shadows, Mason. It’s unbecoming.”
Crossing into the room decorated in shades of red and black, he found his sister seated on an elegant chaise, claret in hand. Her fair hair was twisted and curled into a sophisticated coiffure that showed off her long neck, bare shoulders, and deep décolletage. Though older than Mason by nearly twelve years, she looked to be no more than thirty until you got close enough to see the fine lines fanning from her bright green eyes and the world-weary cynicism in her gaze.
Mason’s smile was genuine as he replied. “You know I don’t give a shit for appearances.”
“Which is why you’re still in the East End and I...” She gave a dramatic gesture with her slim hand, flashing the tattoo of a dragon that spanned her arm from wrist to elbow. “I am here.”
Crossing to take a seat in an oversized leather chair, Mason cocked his head. “I happen to like the East End.” He ignored her condescending expression of disbelief to add, “But you’ve managed to hit on the reason I stopped by. I’ve changed addresses.”
“Thank God. That house of ruffles and frills was a monstrosity. The blasted place gave me a headache whenever I visited.”
“You came by once.”
“And I got a headache. Hence the fact I never returned.”
“Well, my new residence will likely meet your exalted standards. It’s in Mayfair.”
She threw back her head and laughed. The sound was sultry and smooth. Not at all the boisterous laughter he recalled from the rare instances of humor they’d shared in childhood. “Don’t be absurd, Mace. If you’re going to lie about something, you know better than to make it so impossible to believe.”
“I’ve been hired as bodyguard to the Duke of Northmoor.”
His sister’s glittering eyes narrowed. Shrewd intelligence sparked in their depths. “I’m unfamiliar with him.”
“Not surprising, Lissy. He’s a boy.”
Her keen interest dispersed in an instant once she heard Mason’s duke wasn’t a potential client. Sipping from her crystal glass, she eased back against the raised end of the chaise. “How’d you land that job?”
“The boy’s