He couldn’t very well go forward with Caroline’s plan without West’s support because West would be at the wedding. He would be one of the witnesses.
Reed exhaled a breath, staring unseeing at the cresting sun.
“Lady Gardenia isn’t in London,” West stated, beating him to the punch.
“No.” Of course, the Piccadilly Player would be privy to such information. “You don’t know where I can find her, do you?”
Westcott sighed. “Word is that Crossings has sent her to his estate near Southampton. But she might only be as far as Bath. Regardless, it would be impossible for you to make the journey to and back from either in time to meet Helton’s deadline.”
“Hear me out.” Reed rubbed the bridge of his nose before continuing. “Crossings has another daughter.”
After a pause, Westcott snapped his head to stare over at him, his brow furrowed.
“What are you getting at?”
Reed couldn’t tell if his friend was angry or intrigued.
“Lady Marigold is in town.” Reed winced. “What are the chances of Helton accepting a minor twist to the story?”
His normally carefree-looking friend frowned but then turned thoughtful. “He did not, in fact, specify which daughter.”
“Aside from the actual article,” Reed pointed out.
“Yes, but… Don’t tell me. This is Lady Caroline’s idea?”
“How did you know?”
“She’s more cunning than you are.” West laughed.
“Yes, well.” Ceres, Reed’s mount, skittered beneath him, anxious for a well-deserved run. Reed ran a calming hand down her neck. “Any chance it’ll work?”
West remained silent for almost a full thirty seconds. “He won’t like it, but… Honestly, Rutherford, with Lady Gardenia in seclusion, you haven’t much choice.”
Exactly what he and Caroline had deduced.
It was all Reed needed to hear. At least he had a course of action he could follow now—even if it wasn’t the most honorable one.
Because he had others besides himself to consider.
“In that case.” He leaned over Ceres. “I suppose I ought to change into something more appropriate.” He couldn’t exactly propose while smelling of horses.
“Send word when you’ve secured her hand. Along with the hour of the happy occasion.” A joke, of course, because West made no bones regarding his personal disdain for the institution. “I’ll stand up with you at St. George’s.” West laughed.
“Someday I’ll return the favor,” Reed threatened.
“Not if I can help it.” West laughed. “But seriously, don’t put this off too late.”
Reed dipped his chin. Despite the unease in his shoulders, by God, he was going to do it. It was either that or…
Full-on catastrophe for himself and his mother and sisters.
With a quick wave, he loosened the rein in his hand and all but flew to the other end of the park.
Goldie slid her hands into her gloves and stepped outside. The sun shone brightly, but the air was crisp, so she walked swiftly in the direction of Bond Street. Her father rarely woke before noon, and so since coming to Mayfair, Goldie had learned that if she wanted any time to explore, she’d have to do it in the early hours.
Alone, she could breathe freely, smile only when she felt like it, and allow her posture to slump naturally. Furthermore, she wasn’t constantly anticipating one of her father’s outbursts.
On this particular morning, she’d decided to first purchase a handful of flowers from one of the morning vendors, and after that, she’d visit her favorite bookstore.
