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“Those are all the gentlemen who offered for Calliope during the Little Season and were rejected.” She clasped her hands before her. “If I were you, I would find a way to track each of them down and ensure that they didn’t renew their sentiments of marriage to my sister, as she is on a mission to accept one of them. And I wouldn’t delay. There is a ball at Carrick House this evening, and I am confident she will start her search then.”
Sebastian’s jaw clenched. Over his dead body. “Thank you, Lady Isadora.” He tucked the list into his jacket, but then he hesitated. “Why is it that you are helping me when I’m sure Calliope told you what happened at Vauxhall?”
She lifted her chin slightly. “Because I am familiar with your grandfather. I ensured that Calliope’s maid wrote to me about her progress in Lyme Regis and she had quite a bit to say in her letters. She told me that he tends to speak rather poorly of our father, and that he didn’t think Calliope was a suitable match for you. That led me to the obvious conclusion that he was behind your illicit tryst at Vauxhall.”
Sebastian blinked. “I daresay you are quite astute, my lady,” he murmured. “And yes, he was responsible for coercing Lady Abaline to try to seduce me. He boldly claimed as much. Because of his betrayal, I have cut ties with him, and I can assure you that any association Sabine and I had was long ago. I feel nothing for her now.”
“You haven’t been an item for some years,” she concurred confidently. “And you’ve had three mistresses since then, I believe.”
He couldn’t help but grin. “Are you intending to become an investigator, Lady Isadora? Because I believe you would be well suited to the position.”
“Not hardly.” Her lips twitched. “Let’s just say uncovering information is something of a hobby for me.”
“Lord help me if I ever make a misstep,” he teased.
“I shan’t worry about that, my lord.” She offered him a coy smile that softened her harsh features somewhat. Combined with the twinkle in her gray eyes, he had no doubt that she could bring any man to his knees if only she would allow her guard to come down long enough to do so. “I already know everything.”
Sebastian stared after Lady Isadora as she departed, and then he shook his head. The lady was an enigma. If she ever did decide to take a husband, it would have to be someone intelligent enough to handle her wit.
Was there even a man alive worthy enough?
He withdrew the list of names that Isadora had given him. It seemed he had his work cut out for him, so he had better get to work.
There were eight names. Eight.
It was almost humbling to think that, of all the eligible men here, Calliope had brushed them all aside and chosen Sebastian to surrender her heart to. That is, if what her sister said was true, but something told him that Isadora didn’t lie.
He tucked the list securely back in his pocket and thought of his next course of action. With so many names, he couldn’t be assured that he would run into them all before that evening, which meant he would have to first find some reinforcements.
Damn, but he wished Grey were here now more than ever, but since he wasn’t, he was forced to consider other alternatives. He closed his eyes and searched his brain for faces in society that he might be able to rely upon. After a time, one in particular broke out from the rest.
And he knew exactly where to find him.
Sebastian strode out of the museum and retrieved his horse, making it to the familiar bow window in front of White’s in record time. He walked inside and strode directly over to the table that sat in front of the glass pane. It was the highest honor of distinction to sit there after men like the Duke of Wellington, and yet, somehow the Marquess of Osgood, Remington Fletcher, had managed to gain that glory.
He was sitting alone, a glass of brandy on the table. His hand was around the glass, but he wore such a pensive look on his face that he didn’t notice Sebastian until he moved to stand in front of him.
“Ah, Blakely.” He waved a hand to indicate an empty chair. “Have a seat.”
Sebastian sat down. After the attendant came over, Seb ordered the same drink as the marquess. Once it was delivered and they were alone once again, he took a sip of the brandy. “Mmm. Good choice.”
“I thought so,” Osgood said dryly. He lifted a russet brow, his hazel eyes assessing, “What brings you by?”
“Does there need to be a reason?” Seb hedged.
The marquess snorted. “Anyone who approaches me wants something, so what is it?”
Seb pinched the bridge of his nose, guilt washing through him. However, it wasn’t enough to keep him from begging for his assistance. He removed the list and slid it over to his companion.
The marquess picked it up and studied it for a moment, and then slid it back to him. “If this is a list of men you want disposed of, then I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong man. Murder isn’t my area of expertise, although I am particularly skilled with a rifle.”
“If only it were that easy,” Seb grumbled miserably. “These are the men that Lady Calliope might approach to gain an engagement. My quest is to see that she chooses me instead.”
The marquess snorted. “What is it about those Bevelstroke women?” He lifted his glass to his lips and took a long, steadying drink. After he set it back down on the hard wood, he glanced at Sebastian. “If I assist you in your amorous endeavors, what do I gain in return?”
He tapped a thoughtful finger on the table for a moment, and then snapped his fingers. “You still need to find a husband for your niece, Portia, do you not?”
“Actually, no,” he returned evenly. “She was offered for just this weekend and accepted the gentleman’s offer. It shall be a victorious match for her.”
