Page 54 of The Matrimonial Advertisement

He was clad in a frock coat and matching trousers, his cravat neatly tied and his usually wild dark brown hair forced into compliance by a liberal dose of Macassar oil. He looked clean and pressed—and quite unlike himself.

“What the devil’s going on?” Justin asked.

Finchley waited for him to enter and then shut and bolted the door behind him. “Come through to the sitting room. We can discuss things there.”

Justin dropped his portmanteau in the hall and followed Finchley upstairs. There was a cozy parlor there, furnished with a plump chintz sofa and chairs, a tufted ottoman with tassel-trim, and an array of heavy wooden tables on which various collections of dried flowers and stuffed birds were displayed under glass domes.

A fire of hot coals glowed cheerfully in the grate. On a carved mantelshelf above it, a gilt-trimmed clock softly chimed the hour.

Justin’s gaze roamed over the room. “Very homey,” he said dryly.

“I thought so.” Finchley sank into a chair. “I’ve just signed a three-month lease.”

Justin sat down across from him. “For your sister, I presume.”

A dull flush tinted Finchley’s neck. He cleared his throat. “There’s time enough to explain that. But first, tell me…did you marry her?”

“Miss Reynolds? Otherwise known as Lady Helena?” Justin rubbed the side of his face. “Bloody hell, Tom. What in blazes were you thinking to perpetrate such a scheme?”

“It wasn’t a scheme. It was a mission of mercy.”

“At my expense.”

“I don’t see how you can view it in those terms. Lady Helena is extraordinarily beautiful. Her disposition is pleasing and her intelligence appears to be well above average. Add to that her wealth and breeding and you have what amounts to an ideal candidate for a wife. Any man would think himself lucky to have her.”

A sudden flare of irritation turned Justin’s voice cold. “With so many superior qualities, I’m amazed you didn’t marry her yourself.”

Finchley briefly removed his spectacles to massage the bridge of his nose. There was a slight bump in the ridge, evidence of an old break he’d suffered during their time in the orphanage. “Yes, well, given the circumstances, I’m not altogether sure I’d have suited the lady.”

“Because she’s reckoned to be mad.”

“No.” Finchley settled his spectacles back on his face. “Because Lady Helena didn’t require a solicitor. What she needed was a hero.”

Justin drew back with a flinch. “Ballocks. I’m the farthest thing there is from a hero and well you know it.”

“So you claim. But in times of trouble, when have you ever been anything less than heroic? And don’t dare say India. You’re forever raking yourself over the coals for what happened in Cawnpore. It’s become a little self-indulgent, to be honest.”

Justin stiffened. “Is that so?”

“Yes, it is. But I don’t care about that right now. All I care about—all I really want to know—is whether or not you married her.”

“Of course I did.”

Finchley exhaled. “Thank heaven. Where was it done, and how?”

“Yesterday morning, at the registrar’s office in Abbot’s Holcombe. We returned to the Abbey in the early evening. Hargreaves arrived an hour later.”

“Alone?”

“No. He had a large man with him who threatened to tear apart my home and forcibly remove my new bride.”

“That would be Mr. Glyde.” Finchley frowned. “I assume you didn’t allow him to take her.”

Justin gave his friend a speaking glance.

Finchley’s lips quirked. “Quite. As a matter of curiosity, how did you manage to put him off?”

“It was in the midst of a thunderstorm. The cliff road was on the verge of washing out. In addition…” Justin tugged at his cravat. “I may have intimated that we’d already consummated the marriage.”