“Went out? Where?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. Couldn’t be far, as he was walking,” Verrick said.
“Thank you,” Everett said, running a hand through his hair. “Lady Walridge and I may be departing soon, so be at the ready.”
“Of course, my lord.” Verrick stepped away, and Everett returned to Naomi.
“You look worried,” she said.
“Marcus and I have had more arguments than you can imagine over the very subject that stirred all our passions today. And he’s walked away before, but never…neverleft, if that makes sense. The fact that he has done so twice in one day…”
She touched his face. “We’re going to work this out, Everett. I promise you that. I won’t stop until he understands what this future could be. Together, all of us.”
He nodded, though he had a bit less faith in that outcome than Naomi did. Still, he wasn’t ready to give up. He shook off his negative emotions and smiled at her. “I think you and I should carry on with your plan anyway. Come, get your things and I’ll arrange the rest.”
She kissed his cheek, then hustled from the room to get her wrap. As she did, he went into the foyer and motioned for Verrick to join him. “I have a message for Marcus when he returns,” he said. “Tell him we went to see Mr. Harris, and we’d like for him to join us when he’s finished with his fit of pique.”
Verrick had been scribbling down the message, and now his gaze lifted. His one good eye sparkled a little with humor, and Everett returned the expression. The man had served under Marcus during their army days. He was a good and proper butler now, but occasionally Everett caught a glimpse of what he’d once been.
“I will read this to him verbatim, my lord,” Verrick said, tucking the note in his pocket. “And have your carriage brought ’round.”
“Thank you,” Everett said. “And if he sacks you, never fear. You’ll come work for me.”
Verrick was chuckling as he walked away, but Everett’s smile fell as soon as the man was gone. He and Naomi were about to play a dangerous game.
And they had to win this part in order to win it all.
Naomi drew a deep breath as she and Everett climbed the stairs to her stepbrother’s home across from St. James Park. She hadn’t been here in weeks. It was a place she tried to avoid whenever possible. Now a shiver ran up her spine as Everett knocked and they awaited whatever fate was inside.
He touched her elbow gently. “I’m here and I will keep you safe from him.”
She nodded as the door opened. Her brother’s butler, Patterson, stood in the entryway. His gaze flitted over her, eyes widening in surprise. He glanced back over his shoulder and then said, “Lady Walridge, good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon, Patterson. I’m here to see Thaddeus. Is he in?”
Patterson swallowed and stepped back from the door to allow them into the foyer. “I will check, my lady. Will you follow me to the green parlor to wait?”
Naomi flinched but followed the butler to the door a few feet from the foyer. As they entered, she cast a side look to Everett to get his reaction to the room.
When Patterson left, Everett pivoted to her. “It’s hideous,” he whispered.
She nodded as she took in the chamber. Thaddeus’s wife Portia thought herself quite the decorator, but she had no editing eye when it came to colors or trinkets. As a result every surface in the room was covered with stuffed birds and glass figurines. The walls were a sickly green, and half of them were papered with a paisley pattern that was just as ugly.
“I despise this house,” Naomi whispered. “Every moment here was torture.”
Everett paced over to a portrait above the fireplace. She followed and looked up at the couple. Thaddeus, looking handsome in his formal attire, and Portia, lovely as anything but with a sour expression that never left her face.
“That’s them?” he asked.
“On their wedding day eight years ago,” she said.
Everett shot her a look. “If that was the happiest day of her life, I shudder to think what expression she carries every other.”
“Portia is perpetually angry with everything, I think,” Naomi sighed. “She can be friendly, even kind, but then turn to a rage on the tiniest perceived slight.”
Everett examined Portia in the painting a bit closer. “Interesting.”
She was about to ask him about the tone to that one word when the door opened behind them. They both faced it, and Naomi’s heart sank. It was Portia who entered, and she was alone.
