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CHAPTER TWENTY

AN EPISTOLARY CHAPTER (OR AT LEAST, ONE THAT INCLUDES TWO EPISTLES)

By the evening of the third day that had passed without a letter from Lady Macbeth, Joshua was seriously considering chasing down Lord Devin and demanding her name. His intentions were honorable, after all. What right had Devin to keep a man from the lady he intended to marry?

He and his older brother Frederick were seated in the library, which, despite the massive hearth at the front of the room, was as damp and chilly as the rest of the family townhouse. Joshua had his boots so close to the fire that his soles were liable to be singed.

Frederick was nursing his second glass of brandy, while Joshua sipped wine: his doctor was of the opinion that strong spirits were injurious to those recovering from blood infections. The thought of his wounds made him grimace. Perhaps a man should warn a woman before marriage if his right side is a mass of scars.

“You’re as twitchy as a cat on a hot brick,” Frederick commented.

Joshua put down his sherry. “I’ve found the woman I want to marry.”

Frederick reached over and slapped him on the shoulder. “Bravo! Why aren’t you out there courting her?” He blinked. “Wait … did you say ‘woman’ deliberately? Because our father isn’t going to be happy if your wife isn’t a lady.”

“She is a lady.”

“Who is she? Not that I’ve been going around to Almack’s and the like. I didn’t think you were, either. Where’d you meet her?”

“In Hyde Park,” Joshua said, lying without a qualm. “I don’t know her name yet, but I mean to.”

“Humph.” Frederick reached out a booted foot and kicked the bottom log. It cracked in half, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney. “Never fit me to play the older brother, but my advice, for what it’s worth, is that there’s something to be said for not judging a book by its cover. You remember that mistress I had before you left for war?”

“Lady Merivale?”

“No, the one who followed, Léonie. She was married to a Russian ambassador, who was eighty if he was a day. She was exquisite, from head to toe—and she wanted me to kiss those toes of hers.” He kicked the log again. “Strip off all the powder and paint, and you’d discover a temper like the devil’s. She hacked up my favorite vest—the salmon-pink one, with the gold embroidery. Cut it into pieces because she said I looked at another woman.”

“Did you?”

Frederick shrugged. “I was so blind drunk the night before that I couldn’t remember. My point is that your lady-in-the-park may be polished on the outside, but what of the inside? After you’re wed? I was able to shed Léonie with a good-sized emerald, but you’d be stuck for life.”

Joshua got up and put another log on the fire.

“For God’s sake, we employ footmen to keep up the fires. So, are you trying to find her? Roaming the park with a posy in hand?”

“I haven’t tried that yet.”

“If she is a lady—and who’s to say that she is, because these days ladybirds look as elegant as the rest—it’ll be easy enough to find out her name.”

“Due to some sort of scandal, the lady says she will be introduced next Season rather than this.”

“Better check out the pedigree. You don’t want to involve yourself with a dishonored family. Father won’t have it.”

“Father has nothing to do with whom I marry.”

“True enough,” Frederick said with a sigh. “Your fortune is your own. The same can’t be said for mine.”

“Is there someone you’d like to marry?” Joshua turned his head and surveyed his brother. Despite his future earldom, Frederick didn’t bother with elegance: his coat was ill-fitting, his hair oft-disordered, his appetite for brandy excessive.

“Never,” Frederick replied, unsurprisingly. He’d been adamant on that subject since the age of fourteen.

A rap on the door was followed by their butler, Mr. Oates-Plagitt. “A groom has delivered a letter for Major FitzRoy.” He held up a thick silver plate with one letter squarely placed in the middle. “An anonymous letter.”

Joshua bolted upright. “Did you allow the man to leave?”

The butler cleared his throat. “The groom informed me that he will remain in the kitchen long enough to drink a tankard of ale if you wish to reply, but that his mistress has ordered him to refuse all questions.”

Joshua almost headed for the kitchen, but then he remembered he’d promised on his honor not to seek out his lady’s name, nor question her footman.