‘Nothing too severe. She said, “No”. The man she was with did not respond as he should have. I intervened.’
‘Cassandra said nothing of this,’ Julian said, his anger turning to worry.
‘She was not hurt,’ he said hurriedly. ‘She was ashamed, although I told her there was no reason to be. It was not her idea to go into the maze, after all.’
Now it was Julian who was embarrassed, flushing pink as he tried to hide behind his brandy. ‘She told me off after you left.’
‘Good for her,’ Sebastian said, offering a toast to her before drinking again.
‘We will have no such trouble with the other man courting her,’ Julian said, settling back into his chair.
‘Tobias Blake?’ Sebastian said, feigning disinterest.
Julian nodded. ‘The fellow’s reputation is spotless. And it was not my idea that she should entertain his suit.’
‘It was her father’s,’ Sebastian said.
‘The Fisks went back to the country after the ball,’ Julian said. ‘There has been no pressure from them on the matter in some time. And Cassandra still plans to meet with him tomorrow. There will be no funny business because she is taking her maid for a chaperone.’
‘It sounds like a delightful outing,’ Sebastian said, wrinkling his nose.
‘I doubt he will make a proposal at the Royal Menagerie. It is not a particularly romantic place. But then, Blake does not seem to be a particularly romantic individual.’
Although Sebastian had not spoken with Blake, the assessment seemed accurate. Tobias Blake looked dull from a distance, and he did not think a closer inspection would add lustre. Still, there must be some spark in the little clergymen that could be lit. If he wished to kindle it before tomorrow, he had best get about it.
Sebastian checked his watch. ‘You must forgive me, Septon. I am late for an appointment.’
‘Farewell,’ his friend said, and waved him out the door.
It took some time to search out the lodgings of Mr Blake. He was hardly the sort to have a set at The Albany. Nor did he keep rooms in Jermyn Street or St James’s. And he had not seen the man at Almack’s, so it was unlikely he had connections in Society.
But he had been at the Septon charity ball. Not unusual for a man of the cloth, he supposed. Perhaps he was seeking a job with the school. Or was he a former orphan with a charity education in his past? Either way, Sebastian doubted that the man had any money to speak of.
He could not exactly ask Septon for more information. It was one thing to interfere with a bounder like Rutland. It would not win him points with the Fisks, Julian or Cassie if he was caught corrupting a clergyman.
But someone had to put a stop to him. Perhaps Cassie’s family was not bothered by the thought of such a humble future. But he much preferred thinking of her living in luxury. What was the point of elevating her in Society only to dump her right back into a different vicarage?
It did not matter. He would see to it that it did not happen. What was it Archimedes had said about moving the world with the right lever? There were any number of tools he could use to dislodge Mr Blake from Miss Fisk’s side. He had but to find the fellow and pry.
It took some searching through lodging houses and pensions before he discovered Mr Blake in Cheapside, letting a furnished room in a house owned by a widow. When she called her lodger down to the sitting room, he looked to Sebastian as he had at the ball, as if he was in need of a good meal and a good tailor. It would not be hard to find something the little vicar could not resist, for it was clear he had nothing now.
The landlady brought them a tray containing a pot of watery tea and a few slices of thinly buttered bread. Then, she left them alone and closed the door behind her.
Sebastian smiled at the other man, feeling a bit like the devil inFaust. He did not exactly want Blake’s soul, since he barely had use for his own. He just wanted him to go away. ‘Mr Blake,’ he said rising and clapping the fellow on the back so forcefully that it knocked his spectacles askew. ‘Just the man I was looking for.’
‘You were?’ Blake straightened his glasses and looked up at him with watery blue eyes. He squinted a bit, confused, and he stepped back to offer a deep and awkward bow. ‘I do not believe we have been introduced.’ He considered for a moment. ‘You are the Duke of Westbridge, are you not?’
‘Right in one, Mr Blake,’ he said wringing the man’s hand. ‘I have had the devil of a time finding you. Your lodgings are quite out of the common way.’
‘They are?’ The man squinted at him again, confused. ‘And to what do I owe that honour?’
‘I wish,’ he said, pausing dramatically, ‘to talk to you about your future.’
‘My future?’
‘Sit down, sit down,’ Sebastian said, doing so himself and pouring the tea. ‘We have much to discuss.’
‘We do?’ Blake’s expression was utterly guileless and annoyingly devoid of dissipation.
