“Well. That wasexhausting.”
Luke leaned heavily on his cane. “Any afternoon with Mother is draining. I have no idea how she maintains the energy and interest she has at her age. Are you truly joining her for church and a soiree tomorrow?”
“I am not entirely convinced I have an option.”
Timothy and Luke stood on the pavement in front of Embleton House, waiting for the hansom cab Timothy had sent a hall boy in search of just as their final discussion with Phyllida had come to a close. “I feel as if I should have written down a list of all she wants of me.”
Luke chuckled. “Do not worry. I am sure she will provide one if asked. You do know tomorrow is just to announce to thetonthat you are back and available?”
“I am sure I will feel like a lion in a cage.”
“More like a prize stud at Tattersalls.”
“Do not remind me. All these events—I cannotbelieve she expects me to mete out hundreds of pounds for a wardrobe I will never wear again. It is ludicrous!”
“Women do it every season.”
“I am not a woman. And after this, I will not be in London anymore. It is all a waste.”
Luke peered at him. “Ever? What about your businesses here?”
Timothy scowled. “Well, yes. I will be around occasionally. But not to attend Society events. And certainly not to attend another coronation.”
Luke snorted. “I would not swear to that. The king is not in the best of health. I am positive we will outlive him. Plus this coronation may not come off as Mother foresees it anyway.”
Timothy crossed his arms. “All right. That is one too many hints in an afternoon. What do you know? Or think you know?”
Luke paused, a smirk on his face. “Just rumors.”
“Rumors. I am listening.”
“Everyone knows—not a rumor—that our new King George does not want his wife to serve as his queen. He has been rather vocal about that. Theon ditis that she plans to return and claim the crown, and he is being foul about this. Enough that the halls of Parliament are rife with talk about a bill of divorcement.”
Timothy’s jaw dropped. “That is madness.”
“As I said, King George loves nothing better than a lot of drama and a rousing fight. As long as he comes out looking like a shining knight.”
“Then let us hope he cancels a few things before I spend a fortune on silk and satin.”
“Perhaps you should find a bride first and avoid the whole business.”
Timothy snarled. “I warned Mother that she will probably see this same kit tomorrow. I do not have a valet, and the staff Mark keeps at his house is doing what they can to clean the clothes I brought withme. The first ball is next Saturday, and I doubt the best tailor in London could work that fast.”
Luke looked him up and down. “I doubt you could wear anything of mine, since you now have about three stone on me. Matthew might be able to loan you something. Does Mark not keep anything stashed in Bloomsbury?”
Timothy paused. That possibility had not even occurred to him. But until today’s luncheon he had not expected to need a prince’s new wardrobe. “I will check. It would certainly save some effort.” He looked up as the cab turned the corner and headed their way, the hall boy riding up next to the driver. “Ride with me. I will have him drop you at home.”
“Are you headed to the club... what was the name?”
“At Wheel’s End. No, that’s tomorrow. And I have told Mother not to plan much else this week. Idohave business to tend to.” He patted his coat pocket. “I also have two more packets of letters from Ella. I thought I would drop them off before I disappear back into the wilds of Bloomsbury.”
Luke held out his hand. “Who are they to?”
“I am not sure. They were wrapped all together in oil cloth until this morning. Mother’s was on top, so I just tucked the other two away.” Timothy pulled them out, reading the first address. “Um... a Mrs. Bessie Dove-Lyon at an establishment called the Lyon’s Den—What is it?”
Luke’s smirk had become a broad grin. “You, a proprietor of At Wheel’s End, a gambling hell, are going to walk unbidden into the Lyon’s Den to talk to Mrs. Dove-Lyon?”
“To drop off the letters. Yes. Why?”
