Banbury grew sober. “You know this is Matthew’s sister—Matthew, our friend,” he emphasized. “We may not have Matthew to answer to, but I want your word that you will treat her with respect,” Banbury asked, a note of contempt in his voice.
“Relax, Christopher. I have no intentions of dishonoring my new wife, regardless of whether our relationship improves beyond the merits of suitability.”
The door opened, and both men quit the conversation.
“My lord, you have a missive.” Bernard entered and held out a silver salver with the sealed note on it. “It was delivered a few minutes ago by a young man who said he worked for the Romney household.”
Evan lifted the note and opened it. “That will be all, Bernard.” The butler started to leave. “Wait,” Evan stopped him. He read the note and looked up at his friend. “How unusual. The note is from Lady Charlotte’s mother. She indicates that Langdale plans to betroth her daughter to Lord Burton tomorrow. She asks if I can arrange something to help.” He glanced up at his butler. “Has her messenger left, Bernard?”
“No, my lord. He said he needs to return with a reply.” Bernard stood at attention with the salver in front of him.
“Give me a moment to draft a reply. I will bring it to you,” Evan said.
“Of course, my lord. I will let the young man know,” he said, turning and leaving the room.
“Allow me to pick up your bride. I have a carriage without any emblem, and I will ride with my men. This seems a bit coincidental to me—not on the ladies’ part, but on the part of Langdale. I do not like the man. He is a bottom feeder.” Banbury spoke softly to his friend. “We do not want a hitch on your wedding day,” he added.
Evan guffawed at the timing of his friend’s joke. It was part of Banbury’s charm that he could diffuse a tense situation. “I fear you are right. They are asking for a time that is not even respectable. Can you do this?” He smirked in his friend’s direction.
“I will do it for you, Clarendon. Of course! And after I see you wed, I will take my leave and catch up on my rest.” He snorted.
“Then it is settled. I will pen that you will arrive at six o’clock tomorrow morning to pick them up. If you do not mind, I will follow and conceal myself once we are on their property. It is bad luck to see your wife before the wedding, and I have had enough of that, so I will rely on you to get her safely into the carriage. But I do not want to invite bad luck by not being careful with the baron. I want to be there.”
“That works,” Banbury agreed. “I understand your sentiment; however, I think that is an old wives’ tale about not seeing the bride. Then again, if things go badly, your bad luck will be that Mrs. Dove-Lyon still has you within her parson’s snare. Her next pick might have a terrible . . .” He paused. “Disposition,” he finished with a grin.
Evan penned the instructions and pulled the other wax emblem from his drawer. It was the one he had used earlier for the wedding gift. Dripping the wax, he sealed it and took it to Bernard. “Please have this delivered to Lady Charlotte Grisham,” he instructed, ignoring the idea of sending it to her mother. If the mother’s concern was legitimate, surely his bride would be aware of it as well.
“Right away, my lord.” Bernard left the two men alone.
“You distrust everyone these days, Clarendon,” Banbury quizzed when the door closed.
“Let us say I am suspicious of this whole situation, and I will endeavor to trust my wife. At least I will try,” he said, pouring himself a small measure of scotch and passing the decanter to his friend. “Have you spoken to your investigative friend . . . Sinclair? I wish to try to find Matthew. If her uncle is as cagey as I think, we may have difficulty removing him from the young lord’s guardianship. Finding Matthew would help that. He is their heir, after all.”
“You would also supply an acceptable guardian, Clarendon,” supplied Banbury. “I sent word for Sinclair to meet with me. He sent me a missive that I found very interesting.”
“Please do not keep me in suspense,” prompted Evan.
“Sinclair was engaged for a short period by Romney to find his son. Shortly after the earl’s death, he was sent word to abort the search. I could speculate on who sent those orders, but I think in all fairness, we should meet with Sinclair and get the firsthand information,” Banbury quipped.
“I could never have had this level of good timing and fortune at a gaming table,” he said with astonishment. Even though I do mostly win. It still rankled him that he lost a wager at the Lyon’s Den and did not have a clear memory of said loss. Still, he found it hard to be downcast about it, although a small part of him wondered how much money he bet double or nothing.
“I am not so surprised, considering there are only a few credible investigators being used and the elder Lord Romney would have used his connections to locate Sinclair. He is the best, by far. He will be in London in three days and asked if we could meet him at White’s for lunch.”
“I will be newly married, but I believe I can manage,” Evan said. “As part of my renewed effort to change, I have engaged a decorator to meet with my countess. I will move the meeting up to correspond with this and doubt I will be missed.”
Banbury pushed back from the table. “I must go if I am to get enough rest. We will save your bachelor’s celebration for a post marriage one,
