Page 27

“Miss Bradish hasn’t told you?”

“Only that you were orphaned about the time of my father’s death at Waterloo,” Viv said.

Lark caught the warning. “You mustn’t blame Viv, ma’am. There’s little to tell. I’ve an aunt in Somerton, and no other relations that I’m aware of.”

“A very inadequate account, young man, but you are an only son.”

“I am.”

“So, what property is there?”

“Investments. Through Hammersley’s Bank. My aunt’s Somerton property will come to me in time, I suppose.” Lark was warming to his convenient fictional aunt.

“You are very sanguine about your prospects. Do you expect anything from the duke?”

“No, ma’am.”

“He has not offered to buy you a commission or to give you a living in his gift?”

“Nothing of the sort would suit me, ma’am.”

“Well, Miss Bradish cannot live on nothing.”

“Nor will she have to.” Again, Lark’s jaw tightened.

“Still this engagement remains most inconvenient. There must be no delay in the publication of our guidebook.”

“There won’t be, ma’am. What may I do to assist Miss Bradish?”

“Viv, what do you do tomorrow?”

The door opened, admitting Haxton followed by a young footman in green velvet livery burdened with a particularly large silver tea tray, and Dr. Newberry. As the footman set his tray on the table next to Viv, Newberry, in a brown coat and careless black silk tie, strode toward Lady Melforth, perfectly at ease.

Lark saw that he had erred in dressing formally.

“Newberry.” Her ladyship stretched out a hand. “What brings you to us tonight?”

Newberry took the offered hand and held it in his. “I hope I’m not intruding, ma’am. My rounds brought me into the neighborhood, and I thought I’d look in to see how you all were doing.”

“You see we are well and entertaining Viv’s…Mr. Larkin. Have you met?”

“We have.” Newberry gave Lark an amused scrutiny. “What’s the occasion, man? A state dinner? Dining with your duke?”

“Just dinner with school friends at their club.” Lark’s club was a cook shop on Baker Street where they were quite surprised to see him in evening wear.

Newberry returned his gaze to Lady Melforth, turning her hand palm up in his and feeling her wrist.

“Newberry, I tell you I’m well,” she protested, withdrawing her hand. “Tell me about your other cases.”

He laughed, and began telling her about an evening call on a gouty retired admiral.

Lark rose and crossed to Viv as she arranged the cups and saucers on the silver tray. With his back to the others, he said, “You seem quiet tonight. Worried?”

“I should be, shouldn’t I? You like flirting with danger.” She held a slotted spoon over a blue-and-white porcelain cup and began pouring.

“We’re well-matched, then. You like courting risk.”

“I like writing a book with Lady Melforth.” She gave him a measuring glance. “This charade will never work. I don’t even know how you take your tea.”