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Rex
Watching his wife eat her breakfast, a dreamy expression on her face as she stared into nothing, Rex allowed himself a certain amount of male smugness. He was the one who put that expression on her face. Last night had been supremely satisfying for both of them.
Unfortunately, thinking about the night prior also reminded him of the thought he had been avoiding—Collins’ report about seeing Lucas with Mitchell.
He understood why Collins had felt the need to tell him, though it was just as likely Collins had done so because he was hoping to cause Lucas trouble. Consorting with Mitchell would not be enough to remove Lucas from the club, but it did make Rex question what was going on with his friend. The situation was exacerbated by the question of a traitor within the Society, but even without that, Rex would have wondered.
What could Lucas possibly want with Mitchell? Rex liked to think Mitchell had approached Lucas, only to be rebuffed, but he could not be sure. It irked that he could not simply call upon Lucas and find out. Perhaps he should call uponCollinsand ask where he had seen the pair. Somewhere disreputable, likely. Lucas had not been showing his face anywhere respectable of late.
“I must get dressed,” Mary said, getting to her feet. “Josie and Lily will be here any minute.”
“They will?” Rex asked blankly, his thoughts having to do an abrupt turn to remember what she was talking about.
Mary smiled, pausing to kiss his cheek as she passed on her way out of the dining room.
“We are going shopping.”
“Right, right.” Now he recalled. Watching her go, he smiled. Once his wife’s skirts had whisked out the door, it was only a few moments before the happy expression faded from his lips, his thoughts turning to dwell on Lucas. At some point, he would need to tell Mary she may be correct about her suspicions… but he owed it to Lucas to talk to him first. He just needed to find the damn man.
That was something he could attend to this morning since Mary was otherwise occupied, though he had no idea where to start. It was too early in the day to call on Carlisle’s home, the gambling hells would certainly be closed by now, and if Lucas had arrived back at his own home, Barnes would have sent a message. Ambling into his study, Rex idly pulled out his map of London, trying to figure out where Lucas might have gone to ground.
He was still sitting, pondering his next move when he heard Mary’s friends arrive and her leave. The house felt emptier with her gone. This was the first time they were spending time apart since their wedding day. How odd to feel a little bereft at her absence.
Married life was not at all what he had expected—it was far, far better. Even if his enthrallment with his wife was not fading as he had thought it would. Given how much he was enjoying himself, he did not particularly care if it ever did. He also thought he was well on the way to winning her love and loyalty. Which made him feel a bit badly about not discussing Lucas with her, but he would… eventually. Once he knew more.
Half an hour later, he was still pondering Lucas, the Society, and possible treason, wandering round his house… mostly the front of the house. Not because he was waiting for Mary’s return. He just happened to feel like walking about the front rather than the back. Which was why he heard the banging on the door before Cormack did.
Welcoming a distraction and hoping it was a message from Barnes about Lucas, Rex hurried to answer it. His eyes widening, he frowned when he recognized Captain Jones on his doorstep with another man standing beside him, both of them blankly serious.
“Gentlemen.” Rex raised his eyebrows, cock his head. “What can I do for you?”
“You can answer some questions for us,” the stranger said, pushing the door open and out of Rex’s hands, aggressively barreling forward.
Rather than giving way, Rex lashed out. While pugilism was not his favored sport, he was proficient, big, and strong enough to make a serious impact when he did. To his shock, the stranger caught his fist, turning and pulling Rex forward, neatly trapping him between Captain Jones and the stranger who was now standing in Rex’s foyer.
“Anthony—” Captain Jones started to say, pulling the other man’s eyes up. Having regained his balance and seriously riled by the invasion of his home, Rex took advantage of his distraction, quickly slamming his fist into the other man’s gut. Rather than softness, he met hard muscle and heard the man’s soft ‘oof’ before an elbow caught Rex across his chin. “Bloody hell, you two, stop!”
Hands pulled them apart, and Rex glowered at the stranger, this Anthony, who glared back at him. As tall as Jones and only an inch or two shorter than Rex, he had dark hair and eyes and a heavy jaw. He was dressed like a gentleman, despite his behavior. Rex did not recognize him, but that did not necessarily mean he was not of the ton. Like Jones, he had the bearing of a soldier, and it was entirely possible their paths had never crossed before. Rex would be perfectly happy if they never did again.
“I do not like uninvited guests in my home,” he growled, directing his words at Jones.
“We need to speak with you on behalf of White Hall,” Jones said imperiously. Rex groaned, stepping back so he could see Jones without turning his back on Anthony. “This is Captain Anthony Browne, who is going to apologize for his rudeness.”
There was a moment, then Browne shrugged.
“Sorry,” he said shortly, not sounding anything of the sort, eyeing Rex with hostility. Jones made a derisive snorting noise, shaking his head in disgust at his companion and shutting Rex’s door behind him.
“Please excuse him, Rex, we have had a frustrating few days. I am hoping you will be able to help us.”
“You should tell Stuart he would have done better to just send you. Or Elijah.” Rex deliberately turned away from them both. If Browne was the type to attack from behind, he doubted Jones would stand for it, not if they needed Rex, for whatever reason. “I suppose you might as well come in then.”
“How did you know about Elijah?” Browne asked suspiciously. Rex ignored him, striding down the hall. Cormack was hurrying toward him, probably worried about having missed the door.
“Sorry, my lord, I was in the back with Mrs. Maple… Captain Browne?” Cormack’s eyes widened when he looked past Rex to see their guests, perplexing Rex even more. Grinding to a halt, he turned to see Browne squinting at Cormack as if trying to place him. “Nah, you would not remember me, but you saved my regiment when we were on our way to Waterloo.” Real gratitude was in his voice.
“Ah, the almost-ambush,” Browne said, relaxing and smiling back at Rex’s butler. “I do remember. You were the singer.”
Cormack shrugged, clearly embarrassed, his voice gruff when he answered. “Aye, that was me.” Then his expression changed. “What are you doing here, though?”
