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If Anthony were to marry Minerva, that would leave Cunningham as the last to remain unwed, just as Anthony had predicted ten years ago. Cunningham would owe him a small fortune. Being the eldest of the three Cunninghams, he had wagered he’d be the first to marry. Except the man forgot to take into account his propensity to fault others, ruling out lady after lady, year after year. Cunningham’s quest for the perfect lady had ensured Anthony would win their wager, although secretly, Anthony had hoped a lady would prove him wrong.
It was late afternoon. If Kent was in residence, he’d most likely be in his study. Anthony tiptoed through the halls that were peculiarly devoid of staff. Kent wasn’t short of funds, so where was everyone?
He entered the room lined with reference guides and journals. Kent’s study appeared abandoned. What in the blazes was going on? His best friend rarely left his study.
With the window half obstructed by a tall stack of books, Anthony proceeded to light a candle and scan the room. There was no sign of Kent, and by the thick layer of dust upon the desk, it appeared no one had entered the room for days, if not weeks.
Anthony slumped into the wing-back chair facing the window and stared out, not seeing anything or anyone. Even under Kent’s roof, he was alone.
A rather large lump formed in his throat, partially blocking his airway. Memories of wandering the deathly quiet and empty halls of his country estate as a child flooded his thoughts, and a heaviness settled in his chest. The only method to prove successful in dispelling the horrid void within him was to have Minerva within sight.
Damn. What a buffoon he was to have taken her presence for granted all these years. The threat of her winning their match, not knowing where she was going or what she was doing, gave him the chills. His existence would be desolate.
Booted footsteps in the hall alerted him to Kent’s arrival. He stood and turned to face the door. His best friend walked in preoccupied reading a pamphlet, probably on the latest scientific or agricultural findings.
Anthony cleared his throat. “Discover anything of interest?”
Kent lowered the paper and frowned. “Drake? What in the blazes are you doing still in Town?”
“I yielded to the Head of Foreign Office’s wishes and challenged your sister to a game of chess.” He waited for Kent’s cheeks to redden with anger, or for his hands to clench into fists. But his best friend did neither.
Kent simply walked over to his desk and placed the parchment on top of a large stack of account ledgers. “You still have not answered my question: why are you here?”
“Minerva agreed to play me but requested we do so in private. I’ve been in hiding for the past few days. However, it seems the Head of the Foreign Office has no confidence in my success and sent Camdon to issue a challenge also.”
“Joshua, the Earl of Camdon? Our classmate? I thought the man was still abroad on the Continent somewhere.”
“He was summoned home.” Anthony raked his hand through his hair. The fact that the Head of the Foreign Office was aggressively recruiting Minerva was an issue. He simply didn’t have the resources or the depth of informants necessary to uncover the reasoning behind the Foreign Office’s leader’s actions. It was clearly apparent Minerva possessed a talent that the government official deemed highly valuable. A talent not many were aware she possessed.
On the precipice of a revelation, Anthony frowned in concentration.
Kent rounded his desk and sat. “I rather liked Camdon.”
With his train of thought disrupted, Anthony refocused on the discussion at hand. “I did too, until I saw Minerva in his arms last night.”
“You sawwhat?” Kent jumped up from his chair, knocking the furniture to the floor.
He was a mighty fine boxer. It probably wasn’t wise to raise Kent’s ire.
“Nothing scandalous occurred. Minerva knows what she’s about.”
Anthony moved to stand by the window and peered out. Carriages were returning from the direction of Hyde Park. Promenade hour was over.
He turned to face Kent, who remained standing, fists clenched, at the ready to hit something. “I’ve broken my promise to Minerva and have come out of hiding to seek out your help.”
Kent glared at him. “Help you with what?”
“I must discover what Minerva has planned that is worth more to her than marrying me.”
“Now that’s a rather egotistical statement.”
“Minerva has admitted that she loves me.” Kent’s frown deepened, but Anthony continued before his friend could round the desk and plant a facer. “She even confessed that, a year ago, she would have happily married me if I had challenged her and won, but that is no longer the case. She is playing to win…to go on some damn adventure. What if both Camdon and I were to lose? Don’t you want to know what Minerva has planned?”
Kent spun on his heel and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Anthony followed Kent, hot on his heels.
“We are going to pay Aunt Adelaide a visit.”
