Page 54 of The Language of Love

“Go on,” Annis urged, leaning across the table. “What did Mrs. Oliver say?”

“She grew up in the same area in Yorkshire as the Earls of Rotherhithe and she said that the man going by the name Colin Parker was the spitting image of not the last two earls, but the one before—his grandfather.”

“But that’s so long ago. And can you trust her memory?”

“Perhaps not, but when I combined what she said with what her husband contributed, I believe so.”

“What did he say?”

“He said there was a portrait of the earl’s grandfather hanging in White’s and that he looks so much like Colin Parker they could be twins.”

“I don’t understand. Why would his portrait be at White’s?”

“Apparently there are several grouppaintings of members—some quite old—gracing the walls of that all-male enclave.” Freddie thanked their waiter when he set down the pot of tea and plate of scones.

“Yes?” Annis urged.

“Miles says Mr. Parker really could be the man in the painting’s twin—”

“Wait—Miles knows about this?”

“I could hardly swan into White’s and demand a look around, could I?”

Annis laughed at the thought. “So, you enlisted Miles to help?”

“Yes, and he said they are shockingly similar, although his grandfather was not nearly as big. But they share the same deep-set eyes, powerful jaw, and that smirking smile.”

The smile that Annis adored so much.

“But… why, Freddie?Why would he do such a thing?”

“I suspect he is doing it to evade matchmaking mamas, but still have a look at what the beau monde has to offer.” Freddie pulled a face. “I can’t blame him if that is his reason. It’s positively gruesome the way young women and their mothers are fighting over the man they believe to be Rotherhithe.”

Annis nodded thoughtfully. “This way he could take part in the Season without being consumed by it.” She hesitated, and then asked, “What did Miles think?”

“He thinks Rotherhithe has an ax to grind with everything English—especially the members of the beau monde—and would like to make fools of us all.” Freddie chuckled grimly. “Not that we need any help.”

“If that’s true, then it’s a manipulative and unpleasant game he’s playing.”

“Indeed. I believe he has brought out the very worst of the ton. You’ve not been at many functions lately, but the competition for the wealthy, handsome Lord Rotherhithe has become almost bloody.”

“Oh, I’ve witnessed plenty of brutal competition between Miriam and Susanna,” Annis assured her. “Well, what are you going to do about it?”

“What canI do? At this point I’m either going to be pilloried for concealing the truth and making fools of people, or I’ll be a laughingstock for my own ignorance.” She shrugged. “I might as well let him keep on with his deception and continue to get paid for it.”

“Is this going to cause you trouble, Freddie?”

“It depends how people decide to view his little charade. You know how fickle the ton can be. This might be the end of me or it could put me in a position to pick and choose my clients next Season.” Freddie slid Annis’s teacup toward her. “But enough about Lord Rotherhithe. What have you been up to these past few weeks since I saw you last?”

Annis did not want to tell Freddie about her impending betrothal to Mr. Norburg. She already knew her friend would believe that her aunt and uncle were forcing Annis to marry him.

It was either let Freddie believe that or confess the truth: that it was Annis’s own idiocy that was forcing her to marry.

And given her current situation with Mr. Norburg, she didn’t feel right telling her friend about Henry, either—not that she had much to tell other than the innocent carriage ride. She suspected Freddie would be very disappointed to hear she’d been encouraging an offer of betrothal from one man while having clandestine meetings with another.

“What has been keeping you so busy that you have no time to visit, Annis?”

“Oh, just the usual.”