The thunder of hooves had three horses approaching. He tensed when he saw the riders. Greville, Cavendish, and Calthorpe. The last two Anthony knew were in London for the season. Greville had not been, until now.
Greville raised a hand to halt Anthony, and he thought about riding on briefly but wouldn’t give any of these men the satisfaction of doing so.
“Lord Hamilton,” he said. “How lovely to see you again, and out so early. Care to join us?”
“Thank you, but no.” Anthony didn’t elaborate. He owed these men nothing. Cavendish glared at him, still angry overtheir exchange at Hugh’s that night. “In town on business, Greville?”
The man had aged a great deal, and not well. His face was lined, skin a sickly shade of gray. He looked a shadow of the thug he’d once been. Anthony hoped he died a slow and painful death. Forgiveness, he’d heard, was good for the soul, but as he did not have one, that wasn’t of consequence.
“Just so,” Greville said. “Visiting friends also,” he added.
“He’s also in town to cast his eyes over the woman who will be the future Lady Cavendish.”
Anthony kept his cynical smile in place, but did not comment on the matter of him marrying Miss Spencer, as that would not be happening. He’d make sure of it.
“How is life in the country, Greville?” Anthony asked, much to the surprise of the three men. He rarely made conversation, and especially not with them. “I believe you live close to the village of Brawley?”
The man nodded, suddenly wary.
“Lovely place. I’ve spent time there over the years. The food in the tavern there is excellent.”
Anthony saw the shock on each of their faces.
“I believe they’ve had some trouble lately.” He appeared to consider his next words. “I can’t remember exactly what, but I believe some women have disappeared.”
“I-ah—”
“Village gossip is beneath us,” Cavendish cut Greville off. “Good day, Lord Hamilton.”
He turned to watch them gallop away and thought that he and his friends would need to do some investigations of their own into the missing women, if Greville’s reaction to his question was any sign of his guilt.
*
Four hours later,Anthony did something he’d never before done. He approached the front door of a young lady to express his interest in her. Of course, his was not real interest, but still, were anyone to see him, they would be shocked.
The area was not the best London had to offer, but not the worst either. The red house was two stories and butted up against others like a row of books on a shelf.
He knocked three times on the front door and then stood back to wait. Anticipation over seeing Miss Spencer again grew as he heard footsteps on the other side of that wood. He dismissed it. This was a business arrangement that would suit them both.
“Good morning,” Anthony said to the butler. “I am here to see Miss Spencer.”
“She’s not here, sir.”
Why that surprised him, he had no idea, but it did. He’d thought she’d wait for him to call, and yet considering her nature, of course, this would be her response to his order last night.
“Do you know where she has gone?”
The man considered him through a set of piercing brown eyes.
“I’m a friend,” Anthony said, forcing a smile onto his lips. “Old friend,” he added when no response was forthcoming. “The Earl of Hamilton,” he found himself tacking on. Another odd occurrence. He never had to explain to anyone who he was.
“Who is it, Humphrey?” a voice called from behind the man.
“Lord Hamilton, Miss Prue.”
“Really?” A hand nudged the butler to one side, and then there stood Miss Prudence Spencer.
She was a softer version of her older sister. Where Miss Spencer scowled or glared, this one smiled. In a simple day dressof cream with sprigged lavender, she looked sweet. Anthony much preferred the sharp edges of Evangeline Spencer.
