Chapter Six

Marcus could hardly taste the food on his plate. He stabbed at it more than ate it. Something about that Catesby woman remained in his mind.

Robert waltzed into the room, humming and swirling the silver salver he held in his hands as if it were a dancing partner. ‘A messenger has brought a letter. Not for you.’

Robert examined the missive, flicking it open at the sides, studying it before dropping it. ‘Possibly it’s from a young lady, which is odd as your brother hardly visits with ladies who might take efforts with written correspondence.’

He stopped near Marcus and bowed, holding out the salver on his palm. ‘If it is held to the light, the surname appears to start with C.’

Marcus snapped back his comment telling Robert to leave. He saw the swirling W on the paper. He dropped his fork and snatched the paper from the tray.

Robert gasped. He held the tray at his side. ‘Is that your brother’s? Is he not with you? Sadly, I have erred again.’ His voice dripped chagrin. ‘I just remembered he is on his way to see a woman he is fond of—perhaps they are planning to discuss The Iliad. Or having a go at an Odyssey. Who knows?’ He infused innocence into his words. ‘My sincere error.’

Marcus broke the seal and turned so Robert could not see the words. Marcus held the paper in his hand, the paper crumbling under his clench. ‘You are to be disciplined, Robert. An extra half-day off whenever is convenient as punishment for the error of your ways.’

Robert groaned. ‘I shall contemplate heartily my mistaken delivery. I have so disgraced myself that I may voluntarily increase the length of the punishment.’

Marcus clamped his jaw, read the missive to the end and his fingers tightened more with each word he saw. ‘Bring me a lit candle. Now.’

Robert did as directed.

Marcus held the candle over his plate and let the letter burn and fall into the dinnerware.

One speck of paper still glowed hot on his plate.

‘Get me some paper and ink. Nathaniel will accept her invitation.’

Robert rotated. ‘The note should have cleared your head of any serious notion about her.’

‘Wait,’ Marcus said, stopping the movement. ‘I need you by the rear door well before midnight. Show the guest into the main sitting room.’

Robert’s mouth opened so wide his teeth were hidden. ‘Sir, I do not aspire to see your life take a downward turn.’

Marcus answered, ‘Prepare for a woman to be sent on her way with a good talking to and an explanation of how foolish she is.’

‘You must consider your actions. Don’t expect to explain to a woman she is foolish and escape easily.’

‘You saved my life once, Robert. And I will never forget it. But it’s mine. I shall proceed.’

Slowly, Robert blinked twice.

‘You can have a room in my dwelling, with no work and the same pay.’ Marcus gripped the table. ‘It is what I promised you to get you here and the promise stands. But you will not direct my path.’

Robert held his chin high. ‘To me, you are the son I did not sire. If I determine fault with your actions, I have myself to blame.’ He dipped his head and his voice became husky. ‘I blame myself a lot.’

‘Whatever you have to do, whoever you have to send, make certain Nathaniel is not to return until well after one in the morning. Get in touch with his carriage driver and see that it happens, should Nate plan to reappear. The carriage should get lost, the horses should bolt into the countryside or the carriage men can use whatever methods to distract him that’s needed. See that it is done and done subtly.’ He frowned at Robert. ‘And he is not to be bruised or damaged in anyway.’

‘It is unlikely he will return so early should he be doing what he is doing where I predict he will be doing it.’

‘Make certain.’

Marcus touched the ashes, blackening his fingers as he brushed the darkness from his plate.


That night, Marcus sat on the sofa, arms crossed, waiting for Emilie. He would tell her, without taking care of his words, that she was courting disaster. Totally insensible. Lacking the least awareness of her reputation and a hoyden. A reckless woman with no concern for how her actions could affect others.

At one in the morning, he wished he’d not burned the paper so he could reassure himself of the assignation time. But some people were always late.

At two, he began pacing. He could hope the woman had come to her senses and that she hadn’t been attacked by a cutpurse out in the night. He wanted to send a carriage out.

That infernal woman. Lady Semple had not warned him how that spirit of joie de vivre could wear on the person watching it.


Marcus was still awake when Nathaniel returned early in the morning, complaining of the foolish errors of the staff that had got him lost and the carriage had been stuck and he could not understand how the carriage had got stuck in such a small puddle, and the men had refused—the staff had refused—to let him sully himself by helping get the carriage from the puddle or over the tiny rocks in front of it.

Nathaniel’s anger was in full swing. He wanted Robert sacked as there had been an unfortunate incident with a spot of manure on his boot and the man had acted as if he were treated abominably to lower himself to Nate’s footwear, as if Marcus’s boots had the only manure in the world worth scraping away.

Marcus half-listened and knew his valet most likely was being informed of the night’s events by the groom.

Nathaniel grumbled on, then muttered as he stalked away, still unaware of the true reason for the mishaps.

Robert entered the room. ‘The maid is cleaning your brother’s boot as he has not been able to afford a valet of quality as you have.’

Marcus reached up, touching the hair at his collar. ‘I need this trimmed,’ he said.

‘Whatever for? I have heard rumours of women running their fingers through your locks and telling you how it does not matter at all that you are in line to inherit a large estate and have a title as well—that they love you for the scoundrel you are. The jewels and riches you could provide for them are so incidental.’

‘They see beyond that. They also know that I have a valet and he livens up the household.’

Robert flicked his lashes. ‘It is my eyes. Women cannot resist such lovely blue eyes.’ He put a hand on Marcus’s shoulder. ‘Do not despair that you have not been graced so.’

‘I will have a haircut,’ he said. ‘I will put all this nonsense behind me.’

‘I’ll collect the water.’

Marcus walked to his dressing table and took off his waistcoat, cravat and shirt.

Robert returned. He took care of the clothing as Marcus sat.

Marcus’s jaw ached. It had been doing that entirely too much over the past twelve hours. He forced himself to unclench his teeth.

‘Not too much off,’ Marcus said, waving a hand towards his hair.

Robert groaned, flapping a towel, snapping it Marcus’s direction. ‘Get over her. She sent a post to your brother and she is not for you.’

‘I have never been attached to Miss Catesby. I have no need to get over her.’

‘Remember, she wrote your brother a letter.’ Robert put the towel over Marcus’s shoulders. ‘She has no designs on your virtue—only on the name Westbrook.’

‘But she didn’t show up.’

‘Not a good sign. She cannot plan a rendezvous properly.’

‘I can.’ Marcus’s jaw popped. ‘I can sign my brother’s name as well as my own. We will see what happens when Nathaniel requests Miss Catesby’s presence at Hatchards. In the bright of day. And you are not the person you profess to be if you cannot locate where she is staying and also a way to get this delivered discreetly to her this morning.’

Robert gave a slight shrug. ‘Of course.’


Marcus took pen to paper after the haircut.

He begged her apologies and sincerely hoped he had done nothing to offend her. He also mentioned that he had a very important question regarding a book of engravings he was hoping to purchase at Hatchards. He told her the hour he would be selecting it. Could she please, he begged, be of assistance?

He signed Nathaniel’s name with a flourish, then threw the pen across the room.