“Stephen! Where are you going?”
Stephen grinned. “To win the woman of my heart.”
Oh. Well. That sounded far more positive than the maudlin musing of the lad when Chase had first entered the room. “Good for you. I wish you luck.”
“Thank you! Although, if this works—” A wide grin burst across his face. “I shall report back in an hour!” He saluted, and then left, stumbling over the very edge of the carpet as he went.
Chase was left facing the closed door. His gaze traveled to the askew tea table and then to the nearly empty brandy decanter. Though he was happy to see Stephen so revitalized, Chase had the unmistakable feeling that he’d missed something. Something significant.
He mulled that thought over for a moment, then shrugged. Whatever happened, he’d cheered up the boy and that was certainly worth something. Why, as soon as Harriet found out, Chase was certain she’d be abject in her apologies for ever calling him selfish.
Feeling very altruistic, Chase pushed up from his chair and made his way out of the library to see if perchance his bath was ready.
Chapter 19
They say that love is the grandest passion of all. Except, perhaps, passion itself.
Anthony Elliot, the Earl of Greyley, to his wife while on the way to visit the earl’s half brother, Marcus St. John, the Marquis of Treymount
Devon ran up the wide steps, his booted feet making a ringing announcement of his presence. Located in the heart of Mayfair, Treymount House was an awe-inspiring manor, filled with antiquities and treasures, yet blended with the most modern of conveniences.
Even in London’s most exclusive neighborhood, the house caused much comment, from its towering height to the outstanding quality of stonework that graced the entry. Even the shrubbery that lined the drive was painfully perfect. Marcus, of course, would have nothing less.
To many, it seemed cold and somewhat overbearing, but to Devon, who had slid down the stair railings untold times and had frequently jumped out the lower windows while escaping from Cook after stealing a hot pie, Treymount House was just home. Or had been until he’d moved out at the age of nineteen into his own lodgings.
“Sir,” the butler said, smiling a little on seeing who had been hammering on the door. “It has been a long time.”
“Hallo, Jeffries. It hasn’t been that long. Two weeks, no more.” Devon stepped through the door and handed his hat to the butler. “Is his lordship up and about? I feel the need to upset my brother’s peaceful existence.”
“I would hardly call the marquis’s existence peaceful. And he has been up since dawn. In fact, he has already met with his man of business, one of his solicitors, as well as two new investors.”
“Showing us all up, is he? All I’ve managed to do today is eat breakfast and tie my cravat.”
Jeffries bowed appreciatively. “I cannot speak for your breakfast, but your cravat is without compare.”
Devon grinned. “Damn! I wish you’d let me steal you away from Marcus. I’d pay you twice what you’re worth and you’d never have to answer that heavy door again.”
“Thank you, sir. I shall keep your offer in mind. His lordship is in the library. Shall I announce you?”
“Lud, no. I’ll announce myself.” Devon walked toward a wide door at the end of the hall, then stopped, staring up at a huge tapestry that now adorned the wall over the impressive curving stairs. The thing depicted a battle of some sort, with warriors in strange garb swinging huge swords. Here and there were slain enemies, their heads chopped off and lying in pools of blood. “Where in bloody hell did my brother find that?”
Jeffries paused, a faint shimmer of disapproval on his face. “I believe it just arrived from India, sir. The workers took almost three entire days to hang it to his lordship’s satisfaction.”
“They should take it back. I’ve never seen anything so hideous in my life.”
“Lord Greyley had the same reaction, not ten minutes ago.”
Devon turned to look at the butler. “My half brother is here as well?”
“Yes, sir. And the countess, with one of their children. I believe they came to town to consult a physician, or so I heard the countess say.”
“I hope nothing is amiss. Thank you, Jeffries.” Devon made his way to the library, his heels ringing on the cold marble floor. It was a good thing Anthony was here. He had a calm, logical way about him that might be of assistance.
With a light knock on the library door, Devon let himself into the room. Anthony leaned against the mantel, his huge frame dwarfing even that monstrous affair. His hair, unlike his half siblings’, was a golden brown. He always reminded Devon of a bear—large and growling.
But there was no harm to Anthony. His worst fault was an overly sincere desire always to be right. Though he hadn’t been born a St. John, it was the one characteristic that bound him the most closely to his brothers and sister.
His wife, Anna, was seated on a nearby chair, her reddish hair warm in the morning sun. One of their many children sat beside her, fiddling with the tassels on a pillow.
Less than a year ago, Anthony had inherited five children, and Anna had come to the house as governess. But the sparks that had existed between the two had been undeniable and within a remarkably short time, they had fallen deeply in love. Devon tried not to remember that Anthony had had that blasted talisman ring in his possession at the time.
“Devon!” Anthony said. “What brings you here? Not out of funds, are you?”
“Me? I’m never out of funds,” Devon said, walking forward to greet his half brother. “I’m the lucky one, remember?”
“Ah, yes. The one who never loses. How could I have forgotten?”
“I have no idea, for I’ve reminded you oft enough. What brings you to London?”
“My son, Richard,” Anthony said, nodding toward the boy who sat beside Anna. “Anna believes he cannot hear well, which is why he does not speak as he should.”
Anna smiled over the boy’s head at Devon. “Marcus went to consult with his man of business for the name of a physician who specializes in such things.”
Devon came to stoop before the small boy. “Hello, Richard.”
Richard looked up, his eyes brightening when he saw Devon. The lad’s grin revealed a shocking number of lost teeth.
Devon chuckled and ruffled the boy’s hair. “I hope you grow some new teeth soon or you won’t be able to eat anything but porridge.”
Richard’s grin widened. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a top and a piece of string. After carefully winding the top, he yanked on the string and sent the toy spinning across the smooth surface of the table.
Devon laughed as the top neared the edge and Richard leapt to catch his toy before it hit the ground.
The door opened and Marcus appeared, a neatly written letter in one hand. Devon stood immediately.
“Well!” Marcus said, eyeing Devon with an inquiring gaze. “What’s brought you hither?”
Though not as large as Anthony, Marcus exuded a raw power that instantly made him the center of all attention. Most men responded to that air of command by unconsciously stepping back. Except Chase, of course. Chase had always had more bottom than sense.
Devon nodded to Marcus. “It’s a pleasure to see you, too. And do not fear, Anthony has already ascertained that I’m not here to ask for a loan.”
The hard line of Marcus’s mouth softened into a faint smile. “You’ve never borrowed money from me, though I’ve offered time and again.”
“I’d rather eat a hot coal.”
“Well. I can see you’re in your usual good spirits.”
“Perhaps. I came to ask your advice about something.” Devon glanced at Anna and then back. “But it will wait.”
Marcus’s gaze sharpened. He nodded once. “Very well.” He turned to Anna and handed her a letter. “Here, my dear. A letter of introduction. If there is anything to be done for Richard, the doctor will make certain that it happens with
all possible speed. He is expecting you now.”
“Thank you,” Anna said, smiling. She tucked the letter into her reticule and then bent to Richard, who was still playing with his top.
She touched his shoulder. He looked up at her inquiringly. “Time to go,” she said softly.
The boy nodded and rose.
“Shall I come, too?” Anthony asked.
“Oh no, my love,” Anna said. “Stay here and keep Marcus company. It has been several weeks since the two of you have had time to chat. I will return in a trice.” She took Richard’s hand and led him to the door. “Bye, Devon! Will you be here when I return?”
“Probably not, but I will stop by Greyley House tomorrow to visit.”
“See that you do,” she said with mock severity. “I would hate to have to travel all the way to St. James’s to find you.”
“You would storm White’s, would you?”
“I would at least stand outside on the street and ask for you over and over in a very loud and disconsolate tone.” She grinned. “I daresay you’d come running out then.”
Anthony tsked. “Anna, pray do not threaten Devon so. He leads an exemplary bachelor life and doesn’t understand feminine teasing.”
Devon shook his head. “You mistake. Feminine teasing is all I am familiar with.”
Anna chuckled. “Poor Devon! I shall expect you tomorrow. Marcus, thank you once again.” She nodded pleasantly and was soon out the door, Richard following behind.
As soon as the door closed, Marcus took his place at his desk, shooting a dark glance at Devon. “Have you decided to take my advice and join me in that shipping venture?”
“Hardly that.” Devon took the chair before the desk and stretched out his legs, the lamplight reflecting pleasantly in the shine of his boots. “I came about Chase.”
Anthony left his place by the mantel to take a chair beside Devon. “Chase? Is he still drinking himself into the grave?”
“I don’t know. The last time I saw him, he was indeed drunk, but that has been several weeks ago. I stopped by his lodgings the other day. It was apparent he’s left town.”
Marcus pulled a stack of correspondence to the center of the desk and began to sort through it. “How long has he been gone this time?”
“More than two weeks.”
Anthony quirked a brow. “Another actress, perhaps?”
“No,” Devon said thoughtfully. “At least, I don’t think so. I believe something is wrong.”
Marcus met his gaze. “Why do you think that?”
“He didn’t just pack his things and leave. He dismissed his valet completely. I don’t think he means to return.”
“Never?” Anthony asked.
Devon shook his head. “He took everything of importance, even Mother’s ring.”
Marcus set down the papers. “Are you certain?”
“I found his valet. Chase gave the man a generous settlement and told him he wouldn’t be returning to London. Those were his exact words, too.”
Anthony rubbed his chin. “It could still be a woman.”
“I’ve asked about town and he hasn’t been connected with any female in particular. Not in the last month, anyway.”
There was silence as Anthony and Marcus thought this through. Finally, Marcus said, “Chase has been known to disappear before. It’s not that unusual.”
“No. But the visit I got from Harry Annesley was.”
Anthony shifted in his chair, the delicate wood creaking in protest. “I could never stomach that man’s presence. Why Chase allowed the man in his company, I will never know.”
Marcus’s gaze narrowed on Devon. “What of Annesley’s visit?”
“I was at White’s. Annesley came up and asked where Chase had gone off to. He says Chase owed him money—a gambling debt. He flashed a marker to prove it.”
“Did you see it?” Anthony demanded. “Was it Chase’s signature?”
“It appeared to be. Which is why I’m afraid something has happened.”
“Explain yourself.” Marcus’s voice snapped like a sail in the wind. Many people feared Marcus. There was a force behind his controlled, calm gaze. It was as if a thousand storms had been locked away, held in place only by the sheer force of his character.
Devon wasn’t afraid of those storms…but Marcus’s force of character, that was something to be reckoned with. “Annesley seemed very determined that everyone at White’s see that blasted note. He waved it like a bloody flag. I found that highly unusual. He also seemed determined to place the idea in everyone’s head that Chase had fled town because of that debt.”
Anthony made a disgusted sound. “Whatever Chase may be, he would never flee a debt of honor.”
Marcus nodded. “He is stiff with pride, that one.”
“Not to mention,” Devon said quietly, “that if Chase needed money, he had only to apply to one of us for the funds. He knows any one of us could have stood the nonsense.”
Marcus absently flipped the edge of a letter between his finger and thumb. “This does sound odd.” His gaze flickered to Devon. “What do you think has happened?”
“I believe the note is a forgery. But with Chase gone, there is no way to verify that—” Devon halted, a thought he hadn’t allowed himself to think beginning to form.
Anthony’s brown eyes glittered. “You believe Annesley has something to do with Chase’s disappearance.”
“Perhaps. I’ve put Annesley off, which has irritated him. I expect he will have to make some other move, and soon. Since I’ve proven recalcitrant, I expect he will next come here.”
Anthony’s brow creased. “You’re right, of course. Something’s not—”
The door opened and Jeffries stood in the opening. He bowed to Marcus. “My lord, pardon me. But there’s a Mr. Harry Annesley to see you. I told him you were busy, but he has been most insistent.”
Marcus and Devon exchanged a look. “Well,” Marcus said softly. “The plot thickens.”
Devon nodded. It had indeed.
The door to Chase’s room slammed open, the sound echoing sharply in Chase’s sleep-filled head. He moaned and pulled his pillow over his head. “Go away, Stephen. It’s too early to talk any more—”
“It’s still evening,” Harriet said. “Lady Cabot-Wells just departed.”
Chase reluctantly moved the pillow so that it didn’t cover his mouth. “She was a bossy old harridan.”
“You charmed her very well. Mother and Sophia believe you should tread the boards if you ever find yourself at point-non-plus.”
“Sorry I didn’t stay long. I was so sleepy after the bath that I could barely keep my eyes open during dinner.”
“I daresay you were very tired, considering how busy you’ve been this evening. You and I need to speak, Mr. St. John.”
The tones were frosty. Chase lifted the corner of the pillow and took a good look at the woman who had just been in his dreams.
Of course, in his dreams Harriet was not glaring at him in such a way. She was usually soft and pliant, welcoming him with open arms as she told him how she thought he was the smartest, bravest, most handsome man she’d ever met.
It was quite obvious no such words were going to escape her lips this evening. Chase sighed, pushed his pillow aside, and shoved himself into a seated position. “What is it now—”
Harriet’s gaze was locked on his chest. Chase looked down and remembered something else. When he’d crawled into bed, he’d decided he was too tired to wrest on a sleep shirt, so he’d gone to bed naked.
He supposed he should find better cover than that afforded by the thin sheet that pooled in his lap. But no. He wasn’t the one who had stormed into someone’s bedchamber in the middle of the night, determined to wreak havoc and mayhem. So instead of pulling the cover up, he leaned back against the headboard. “Very well, Harriet. What’s this all about?” As he spoke, he shifted slightly and the sheet fell an inch more.
Her gaze widened as she stared at his bare c
hest, her gaze dropping lower…lower.
Chase grinned. “You burst into a man’s private chambers and there’s no telling what you might see.”
Her gaze jerked up to meet his, her cheeks flushing a bright red. “This is an emergency or I would have never entered your room.”
“An emergency? What’s wrong now?”
“Stephen.”
She said the word as if it should mean something. “What about Stephen?”
“What did you say to him in the library before dinner?”
“Say? I didn’t—” Oh, yes. He had said something. Something quite brilliant. “We talked about women and—” What else? Chase couldn’t seem to remember the particulars. “Why?”
“Don’t try and act the innocent with me,” Harriet snapped. “You know very well what you’ve done. After listening to you and your asinine advice, Stephen stormed over to Strickton House and attempted to abduct Miss Strickton.”
Chase blinked. “He did what?”
“Don’t act surprised. You gave him the idea.”
“I did no such thing! What was the boy think—” Chase closed his eyes. That fellow on the white horse. Of course. “What a fool.”
“Yes, you are. You have ruined any chances that Stephen might have had with Miss Strickton.”
That seemed unnecessarily harsh. After all, most women dreamed of being swept up on a white horse and trotted off to some castle.
Chase glanced around the rather plain room. Not that Garrett Park was a castle, but it had to be a better pile than anything Miss Strickton was used to. “It does sound as if Stephen acted a bit rashly, but he didn’t do anything all that serious. All he did was attempt to swoop her into his arms and ride with her into the sunset. What’s the harm in that?”
“Miss Strickton did not enjoy being snatched up, dragged across a smelly horse, and then carried off like a sack of potatoes. Her gown was ripped, she lost her pearl necklet, and they had to cut brambles from her hair where she fell off the horse into a very muddy field.”
That didn’t sound good at all. Chase shook his head. “I hate to say this, but your brother has no finesse.”