After he dressed and broke his fast, he used what was left of the morning to catch up on correspondence and business. A letter from his sister had arrived, and he hadn’t replied. He’d certainly get a tongue-lashing for his tardy reply, but reply he must.
Collin,
You’re no doubt making progress, and I continue to wish you well with it. Everything in London is as it was when you left, so you’re not missing anything thrilling. I do miss you, and Rowles sends his regards as well. I can’t believe I’m going to say it, but I miss your dry humor, as pitiful as it became. You know I’m telling the truth, and I hope that you’ve recovered some of your purpose and joy. I could give you all the on-dits for the happenings in London, but as you’d ignore that, I’ll simply say, write back and tell me any interesting details from your adventure.
With love,
Joan
Collin reread the letter, smiling and chuckling by turns as he came to various lines. How like his sister to call him out, but do it with unmistakable affection. He withdrew a sheet of parchment and began to reply, wishing he had more information to share. The reply didn’t take much time, but it had a cheering effect. His sister was all the family, save her husband, that he had in the world. It was sobering, that. After his twin had passed away in the fire that left all of London rocked, he and Joan had grown close. Before, he’d always had his twin brother, the verymirror image of himself in thought and appearance. They would finish each other’s sentences and, with a glance, knew the other’s thoughts.
Collin though back to that disastrous fire—which he had escaped by the merest chance. Collin and his twin had been among the guests invited to a celebration of the Duke of Wesley’s nuptials. But duty called, and Collin was unable to attend. His brother Percy did go, and it was the last thing he’d ever done. So many of London’s elite had been lost that day. The duke had invited many friends, and no one had survived the fire or its smoke, which filled the hunting lodge that fateful night. Titles were passed to second sons, Collin being one of them, along with his two best friends, one of whom was now married to Joan. A friend had become a brother-in-law, but no one could ever replace Percy.
It was a painful memory. Still, it had forced a bond between him and Joan that he did not regret. The memories seemed to linger in the room. With a determined movement, Collin stood and took his correspondence with him. In a few minutes, he’d dispatched a servant with the missives and was on to the next task. He had about an hour before he was to meet Michael and, after a moment’s consideration, decided to leave early and take a more circuitous route on foot, to check the village marketplace and several other places for the man with the black eye.
Though he and Michael would likely go back over the same ground that afternoon, one could never be too thorough. And if he were being honest with himself, he knew he needed something to do, regardless of whether it was going to prove redundant. He wanted a distraction from his sister’s letter, from the memories it brought back into focus, and from the problem at hand that still had no solution or solid leads. He wanted to move and be active as if it mattered, though he full well knew that activity might prove fruitless.
He donned his coat and stepped out of the house. A footman followed him carrying a black umbrella, which he opened and handed to Collin to shield him against the light rain starting to fall. Collin took the umbrella and started toward the marketplace.
Keeping his attention on people’s faces, he tried to block out the memory of a different face, one that was just as irritating as that haunting dream he kept having. He wouldn’t think of her. But trying not to think of her only made it impossible not to think of her. His memory conjured up a perfect recollection of her strawberry hair, creamy skin, and intelligent eyes. They’d had quite the row yesterday, but he’d not been angry, not for a moment; rather, he’d loved the challenge. It brought to life some part of his soul that he’d thought had already died of apathy. It was a delicious sensation, and hecraved a little more. With an effort, he forced his attention to the men around him. Men in shops, men striding down the cobbled street, men on horses, men on foot, but none of them sporting a black eye. Collin twisted his lips in frustration, but continued on his way to Michael’s house, arriving only slightly earlier than they’d arranged yesterday.
“Afternoon.” Michael nodded, grabbing his coat as he answered the door. “You’re early, but it’s just as well.” He stepped out into the street and adjusted his collar. “Miss Essex has her class tonight and normally doesn’t stop by. However, just in case, it’s best to have some distance between the two of you,” he said.
“Afraid of the fireworks?”
Michael chuckled. “No, afraid I’ll get roped into the argument and I’ll ruin my chances with the lady.”
“Ah, I see, that’s the rub, isn’t it?” Collin responded.
“Indeed, it is.” Michael’s tone was light, but something in his expression seemed like a warning, as if he wasn’t sure the lady returned the sentiment, or maybe he viewed Collin as a rival for that same affection.
Collin took a deep breath. It was laughable, except it also was not. He wasn’t interested, and they’d never stop fighting if they were forced to keep company for more than a quarter hour at atime. Still, something about that was exciting, challenging, and alluring. It was enough to give him pause when he should have simply waved away his friend’s unspoken concern.
“Best of luck taming the shrew.”
“I won’t tell her you said that,” Michael replied, wincing. He recovered quickly. “It’s a part of her charm, the frankness of her character.”
“In London, we don’t regard that as charm,” Collin replied. “And ‘frank’ is a polite way of describing her.”
“It may be sprinkling sugar on the situation, but seeing as she’s a beekeeper, I’d stick with being sweet with my words. The lady likes her honey, and I’m hoping any sweet words I can say will attract her.”
Collin paused. “She’s a beekeeper? Well, doesn’t that make sense.” He shook his head. “Blasted woman and her questions,” he whispered under his breath, just enough ahead of Michael that hopefully his companion didn’t overhear the words. He didn’t want to explain his second interaction with Miss Essex. But it was clear she wasn’t playing fair. It rubbed against him wrong, the idea that she knew the subject matter well and had set him up for failure. That he answered her well-placed question correctly was a source of triumph, and his lips quirked in a grin at the memory. Still, she hadn’t played fair.
Something for which he’d make sure she’d pay.
“Let the games begin.”
“That’s an odd expression. Should I be concerned?” Michael asked warily as he caught up with Collin and matched his stride down the road.
“No, no concern. Just thinking.” Collin changed the subject. “I came through here earlier to keep an eye out for any men with a black eye but saw nothing. I thought with Cambridge being much smaller than London it would be easy to find a particular person. However, I’m discovering it’s every bit as difficult as in a larger city.”
“Vermin like to hide in the dark shadows.”
“Indeed, they do,” Collin agreed. “So, if we don’t see him in the obvious places, what do you suggest?”
“We start one place and comb through. It’s going to take time, but turns out, that is what we have to give. So, we’d best get started.” Michael shrugged as he walked purposefully toward the market center, where they would presumably start.
If only they hadn’t started those many other times with the same lack of progress, Collin might be able to muster some hope. As it was, he fully expected they would find absolutely nothing.
