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“Yes,” Blake said, exasperation tinging his voice. “Now do you see why I am drinking at this time of day?” He gestured for another drink. “I do believe my excuse is far better than yours.” He tapped a finger upon the glossy mahogany table. “First the gown, now this... Damn it, Ashford, does fate not want me married?”
“Nothing to do with fate, I can assure you that.” Oliver rose swiftly.
Eleanor was right. The gown going missing hadn’t been an innocent mistake. Someone was trying to sabotage the wedding.
“Where are you going?”
“I need to speak to someone.”
“Thank you for comforting me in my time of need,” Blake said dryly.
“Drowning your sorrows will not help either you or Demeter.” Oliver clasped a hand over his friend’s shoulder. “Go home and cease fretting. You’ll be no good to Demeter in such a state.”
Blake sighed. “I swear falling in love is easier than getting married.”
Oliver grinned. His friend had fallen hard and fast and scarcely even known it. No wonder. Demeter was a special woman. All the Fallon women seemed to be really. Most especially Eleanor, who was going to be so smug she was right.
Still, he could swallow his pride for Blake’s sake. His usually optimistic friend had never looked so forlorn. If Oliver could do anything to protect these nuptials, he’d do it.
He arrived at Guildbury Hall almost an hour later thanks to the snarling traffic on the road to Piccadilly. The butler led him through to the breakfast room, where Aunt Sarah blinked sleepily at him, apparently having just awoken from a nap, and Eleanor rose from her seat in front of a table covered in cogs and bits of metal.
He peered around her at the mess upon the cream tablecloth but could not fathom what she had been doing.
Aunt Sarah straightened abruptly, disturbing the cat on her lap who leaped to the floor and skittered past Oliver. “Oh goodness, Oliver.” She patted her hair and got to her feet. “How lovely to see you. I shall take my leave straight away.”
“Aunt Sarah—” Eleanor protested.
“Not at all, not at all,” she murmured. “You young people must converse without me.” She paused by her niece. “I’ll be nearby but not too nearby,” she said quietly but loud enough for Oliver to hear, before winking at him.
“Your aunt seems to think I have something scandalous in mind.”
Eleanor rolled her eyes. “My aunt always assumes everyone is as scandalous as her.”
Oliver chuckled. “She’s probably right.”
Eleanor’s eyes widened.
“That is—” He grimaced. Christ, since when had he turned into a bumbling fool? He gestured to the table, moving over to take a look. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s a clock.”
He lifted his brows.
“Or at least it was. I’m trying to create something else with it, though I am not sure what yet.” She motioned to a mechanical calculator that sat proudly upon a semi-circled serving table. “Maybe something like that.”
“You made that?” He pressed one of the buttons.
“I did.”
“Impressive.” He eyed her for several moments then shook his head. Now was not the time to get distracted. “I came to tell you, you were right.”
“I am?”
“About Demeter and Blake. About the wedding. Someone is trying to sabotage it.”
“Oh about that.” She smiled so smugly, he could not help but shake his head with a grin. “Yes, I knew I was correct.”
“So…” He took a few steps closer to her and saw her chest rise and fall heavily. “What exactly are we going to do about it?”
