“Make haste, Rory, I am being followed. To the ball, please!”
“At once.”
Toby climbed inside as they sped away. Pulling off a glove, he touched the lump forming on the back of his head, but there was at least no blood. He should probably go home, but something stopped him, and he knew it was Liberty. He needed to warn her to have a care now after what he’d learned tonight. If anything happened to her, he would never forgive himself.
Resting his head on the back of the seat, Toby closed his eyes. Those men were talking about Bidham, but who was his lordship?
He would go to the ball and tell his friends what he’d overheard, and if the dull ache now throbbing in the back of his skull didn’t ease, he would leave. He thought about Florence then. She was his responsibility and if anything had happened to him tonight, who would look after her?
Tomorrow he would set that right. He’d make Anthony and Evie her guardians.
Forcing himself upright, as the carriage slowed to a crawl behind the others lining up to stop before the Duke and Duchess of Talbot’s townhouse, he took several deep, slow breaths.
Were his eyes unfocused?Blinking, he tried to clear them. The door opened, and he stepped down, looking at the house before him.
He’d never attended a ball here before. In fact, he’d never stepped foot inside the London Talbot residence. Large and imposing, as befitted the duke’s standing in society, it was impressive, and rose three stories in gray stone. Looking up, slowly, as movement did nothelp the pain, he wondered which room Liberty slept in, and saw a face pressed to the window, then a hand.
He waved back as Edward looked down at him. That tug inside his chest was still there, but less fierce now as he thought about Mathew. He, too, was something he’d forced down deep inside. Toby hadn’t allowed his little brother to live on after his death. His memory had died with him, and that wasn’t right. Florence, too, should know about him.
Stepping in through the large front doors, he joined the queue of people waiting to greet the hosts.
“Lord Corbyn? You know my daughter, Miss Waltham?” The man in front of him turned to speak with Toby.
“Of course. Good evening.” Toby bowed, and smiled at the woman, although it was likely more a grimace.
A man of good fortune, titled, and single, was a hunted species in society. He didn’t blame the young women, and knew their purpose was solely securing a good match. Was it right? Possibly not, but as it had always been that way, Toby doubted it would change anytime soon.
“Well now, this is good timing,” a voice said from behind him. Turning, he looked at Anthony, who had his wife at his side, both looking ridiculously happy still, he noted.
“Hello, Toby. That is a fine waistcoat.”
“Good evening, Evie, you look lovely.”
“Friend here,” Anthony drawled as Toby kissed her cheek.
“Anthony.” Toby bowed deeply. He would get his friends alone soon and tell them what had transpired, but not here, where anyone could be listening. Whomever this lordship was could walk among them, and he did not want him alerted they were on to him. “My night has improved vastly with your appearance in it,” Toby added.
Anthony harrumphed.
“We are excited to be journeying to Bidham in a few days,” Evie said.
“Don’t. Seriously, Evie has the household in an uproar, and is obsessed with packing this and packing that,” Anthony said.
“Good evening, I have arrived so you can all rest easy,” Jamie said appearing.
He’d like to be resting, Toby thought as the dull ache in his head had him wanting to sit somewhere in a dark corner and close his eyes.
“That is untrue,” Evie protested. “I just like order, and there is nothing wrong with that. Good evening, Jamie.”
“Are you to open the fair, Toby?” Jamie asked after he’d kissed her cheek.
“I have, and yes, I will. It seems they may forgive me for turning my back on the village.”
Evie, Anthony, and Jamie looked at him with varying expressions.
“What?” Toby said, knowing exactly why they were staring at him. He would like to say it was the blow to the head that had loosened his tongue, but after that business in his townhouse with the staff, he couldn’t. He knew he was changing, and unlike before, would embrace it.It was time.
“You never talk of your past,” Anthony said.
