Barrington and Hughes walked him down the stairs to the foyer, where Sanderson handed him his hat and coat.
“I will be at Lady Gladstone’s this evening. To give you moral support, of course.” Barrington gave him a mischievous smile.
Glenraven glanced at his very clean coat and then at Sanderson.
“I would never let you leave without your clothes in the proper condition.”
“Thank you, Sanderson,” he said as the butler helped him with his coat. He turned to Barrington. “I’ll see you this evening at Lady Gladstone’s event.”
“One minute, I’ll walk with you.” Hughes turned to Barrington. “It is strange that the message I sent in your pouch reached Glenraven while all the ones I sent to you did not.”
Barrington’s brow furrowed in thought. “Indeed, it is peculiar. If that’s the case, something isn’t right. We should find out why.”
Sanderson stepped forward and opened the door with a respectful nod.
As they descended the steps, Glenraven paused, his gaze distant. “Hughes, we have much to prepare for. My father’s condition and the urgency of the marriage… it all feels overwhelming.”
Hughes placed a reassuring hand on Glenraven’s shoulder. “We will face it together, my lord. One step at a time.”
*
Inside, Barrington watchedthem depart from the window, his thoughts already turning to the next steps. He turned and made his way back upstairs to Aurington’s room.
“Is he gone?” Barrington looked into the eyes of a very awake, very clever Lord Aurington. “You’re lucky I didn’t start to snore. I hate to deceive the boy.”
“We already know that the bridge, as well as your carriage, was tampered with. That is why you are here, and the remains of your carriage are under lock and key. If anyone can get to the bottom of this,” Barrington looked at the closed bedroom door, “it is Glenraven.”
Chapter Five
Juliet made herway back to her family’s townhouse on Cavendish Square, musing over Glenraven’s Punch and their effortless banter—was it his subtle influence, or had she steered their exchange while behind Judy’s mask? Whichever it was, the playful banter had been a most welcome delight.
She walked down Cavendish Square and glanced at number fifteen. All thoughts of the afternoon’s performance faded, replaced with her family’s dire situation. As she approached the door, it opened.
“Good afternoon, Miss Hayward. I hope you had a lovely morning.” The butler stood by the door.
“Thank you, Mr. Wilcox. I did have a lovely morning.” She removed her gloves and hat.
“Mr. Reynolds is here to see you. He’s waiting in the drawing room. Your mother is in her salon with your aunt and asks that you join them there when you are free.” The smile in Wilcox’s voice was gone.
She let out a deep breath, her thoughts turning to Aunt Geraldine, the Duchess of Rosefield. A paragon of grace and a fount of wisdom, her aunt’s laughter was as heartfelt as her counsel was prudent, endearing her to all and making her an invaluable confidante to Juliet. “Inform my mother of my return,” she instructed Wilcox, “and that I shall join her and Aunt Geraldine presently. Also, kindly ask Mrs. Murthy to serve tea in the drawing room.
He nodded as she crossed the foyer and entered the drawing room.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Reynolds.” Mr. Reynolds stood as she entered the room. “Please, do take a seat.” She gestured to the sofa, and he obliged. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting long. I wasn’t aware you were coming to see us today.”
Mr. Murthy quietly entered with the tea service and set it on the table in front of the sofa.
“Will there be anything else?”
“No, that will be all.” Juliet turned to pour tea as Mary quietly left the room. “One sugar and milk?”
“Yes, thank you, Miss Hayward.”
Juliet glanced at her family accountant and wondered if his somewhat disheveled appearance was related in any way to her family’s dire state of affairs. She handed him his cup and made her own.
“What news do you bring?” She placed a serviette on her lap. News? Her brother Bradley is barely cold in his grave. After his interment, Reynolds told her the ugly details of her brother’s debts and their impact on the family. How many times had she argued with her father about giving him free rein with the finances, but he wouldn’t listen?
“The creditors are getting most anxious. I’ve told them that the family is in the midst of grieving, but I do not know how much longer that tactic will work.” He paused and seemed a bit nervous.
