The man set up straighter, the goofy grin slicing into seriousness. “Yes.” No hint of the fool anywhere in the word. Was this what Imogen, Samuel’s serious, bookish sister with a sharp mind and an even sharper wit saw in her husband? Samuel had always thought him a dolt, but he had helped during a time of crisis last Season, and he seemed no dolt now.
“This is a matter of greatest urgency,” Samuel said, “and I require your steadfast secrecy.”
Trent stood and rounded the desk. “Of course.”
“You have it,” said Helston. “What's happened?”
“Felicity.” Difficult to say her name. Even more so to say what he must say next. “She has eloped.”
Trent cursed.
Helston’s mouth dropped open. “Little Felicity? Eloped? Are you sure? I cannot imagine—”
“She left a note. I'm going to find her now.”
“What can we do?” Trent asked.
“I have no time to speak with my sisters. I am only here because it is on my way north out of London, after her. I need you to tell my sisters what has happened. And I need you to scour the city for any hint of where they might have gone, where they might be staying, if anyone else knew about this.”
“Who is the man?” Helston asked.
“She did not say. I think it might be Viscount Bransley. Let no hint escape your lips about what has happened.”
“Of course not,” Trent said.
“Never.” Helston slammed the front legs of his chair to the ground and stood, looking sturdy and grim like a soldier with a mission.
Samuel reached for the door but swung back around. “Trent, I must ask another favor of you.”
“Anything.”
“I am not traveling alone. Are your new inns along the North Road ready to accommodate a”—Samuel pulled at his cravat and cleared his throat—“lady?”
“A lady? What lady?” Helston barked.
“It doesn’t matter. Are the inns available.”
“Who?” Trent demanded, slow strides bringing him close enough for Samuel to see the man would not be ignored. “Gertrude or June?”
“The matchmaker,” Samuel snapped. “And you will keep your mouth closed about that as well.”
“No.” Helston joined Trent, and together they made a wall, shoulder to shoulder. “You cannot take her. Why in hellwouldyou take her, Clearford?”
Trent crossed his arms over his chest. “I'm with Helston. You cannot take a lady on such a trip.Alone. No matter who is in peril. Save one lady by endangering another?” He shook his head, the slow rotations right and left a moral censure. No words necessary.
“I do not have time for this.” Samuel spun for the door.
Trent whipped in front of him before he could reach it. “You will bring Lady Emma up here.”
“And I will take her home,” Helston added.
“Felicity needs her,” Samuel growled, shoving Trent against the door. His anger raged in his fists, crumpling Trent’s cravat, begging to crush the throat of any man who kept him from the coach below, the journey ahead.
Trent kept his calm, raised a brow.
“Lady Emma has a protector. Lord Macintosh,” Helston said from behind Samuel, his voice low and steady. “Do you think he won't notice his house guest is gone? Do you think he will not guess where she’s gone to, and with whom, when she reappears at the same time you do?”
“Felicity needs her,” Samuel repeated. “I might lose my temper or find myself injured, and Lady Emma will be there when that happens, making sure Felicity gets to safety.” He dropped his hand from Trent’s throat. “Step away from the door.”
