Neville’s concern for Millie’s reputation was the only reason he was not personally on his way to the address of a remote hunting lodge that had been in Mrs. Cartwright’s note.
Gerard turned Neville’s face this way and that. “You say this Runner of yours has already left for the country?”
“Yes. He is on his way to the lodge’s vicinity, but not yet the lodge itself. He urged caution and emphasized the need to collect evidence before acting.”
Gerard placed a warm towel over Neville’s face briefly interrupting his answer, and then he wiped all the dampness away.
Then, Neville continued, “He said he knows the county where the lodge is located. He intends to find out what he can from toll takers, postillions, and coachmen from the area that have been helpful to him in the past.”
Gerard nodded thoughtfully. “People who are not beholden to a single, aristocratic employer.”
Neville considered. Yes, he supposed that analysis was right. Anyone employed directly by Eltenham or Willard would have good reason to lie.
Neville studied Gerard as his valet laid out his clothes. “If I were doing something nefarious, would you keep my secret?”
“As if I would ever work for a gentleman who would act in a nefarious manner.” Gerard sniffed. “Now, as you will be moving through the night, we will keep things simple. A black coat, waistcoat and trousers. Light colors are more easily seen in the darkness.”
“Excellent choice.” Sneaking into his own cousin’s house seemed the height of absurdity, but if all had gone according to plan, Harbury’s knocker would already be removed by the time Neville arrived—a way to show to everyone who passed that the duke was not at home to callers.
Neville closed his eyes and shook his head, imagining people passing by Harbury’s house and shaking their heads. He was certain feigned illness and forced seclusion went far beyond the help Harbury had offered earlier in the day.
Gerard whipped out a voluminous, lawn shirt. Neville inhaled the scent of starch as he slid his neck through the collar and stuffed his arms into the sleeves. The shirt fit nicely over his shoulders.
Hisdistinctiveshoulders.
With a slight shake of his head, he braced himself on Gerard’s shoulder and stepped into his trousers, then presented himself to be tucked, brushed, and scented to Gerard’s satisfaction.
“There now,” Gerard pronounced, moving his gaze over the physique he was forever bemoaning and checking for seams out-of-line. “I have done my part to my best.”
Neville sighed at his reflection. “Indeed, you have, for what you have to work with.”
Gerard smirked. “In my humble opinion, the lady is very lucky, indeed. Not everything comes down to fashion. Most things, yes. But not all.”
“Thank you,” Neville inclined his head. That was as close as Gerard had ever come to praising him.
Perhaps Gerard and Asquith had been right to send him home. The brief respite had, in fact, done wonders for Neville’s mood. He was still anxious, uncertain, and determined to make Willard pay, but at least he no longer felt as if he might drop dead on his feet.
And his fresh, clean garments gave a boost to his confidence.
A much-needed boost.
He’d few logical arguments to give Millie on why she should choose him, specifically. But an attraction did exist between them, and he’d be a fool not to use that to his advantage.
He bid Gerard not to wait up for him, and then he headed back down the stairs.
But the hall, which should have been dark, was not.
Light spilled out of the front parlor, casting the shadow of a footman at the feet of a lady across the marble floor.Wonderful.Just what he needed. An unanticipated confrontation with his estranged mother.
He hadn’t seen her for months. Not since she’d traveled to London to beg him for information on John’s whereabouts, to which he’d given a lie. The confrontation had ended with her giving him a blistering set down and, again, muttering about his likeness to his father.
Warily, he approached the parlor. “Mother?”
“Ambrose,” she greeted. “You do not appear happy to see me.”
“I am only surprised,” he said, coming toward her. He leaned down to kiss her as she liked, one peck on each smooth, pale cheek. The scent he’d only recently remembered left him dizzyand disoriented. “I thought you wished to remain in Brighton this Season.”
“Yes, well. Interesting that. Staying was out of the question.” She glanced significantly at the footman. “I had a sudden desire to visit my brother-in-law, your Uncle Farnsworth, in Plymouth.”