Barney eyed it with deep suspicion and made no move to take it.People didn’t send him letters—not people he wanted to hear from, at any rate.Bills, yes, unfortunately.Invitations, yes.Billets-doux, sadly not.But letters, infrequent though they were, invariably came from some relative—usually an aunt, of which he had dozens—castigating him for something some sticky-nosed busybody had reported, and demanding he reform his life and threatening dire consequences if he didn’t.
Barney liked his life and had no intention of changing it.
He eyed the letter suspiciously.“What kind of letter is it?”
His landlady gave an exasperated huff.“I don’t know, do I?I don’t read other people’s mail.Besides, it’s sealed.It was hand delivered by some feller in fancy livery, and once I told him you was home—because he made a point of asking—he said there was no answer required.So here, take it.I got work to do.”She placed the letter beside his plate and left.
Barney peered at it.It was a note, folded and sealed with an unfamiliar seal.Addressed to Barnaby Wimple Esq., which was quite auntly—none of his friends called him Barnaby, let alone esquire—but written in a hand he didn’t recognize.Not an aunt then.Good.He looked at the fat sausages gleaming on his plate, the fried eggs and crispy bacon, the still steaming coffee and the toast that wasn’t yet cold.No use letting a letter ruin a perfectly good breakfast.He’d read the wretched thing later.
Having demolished the excellent breakfast, he made his ablutions and settled back to allow his valet to shave him.His man lathered his jaw, and while he stropped the razor, Barney broke open the seal on the pale blue notepaper.
The razor had made its first smooth sweep when Barney gave a loud yelp.
“I’m so sorry sir, did I—” the valet began.
“No, no.”Barney waved the valet away and scanned the note a second time.“Good God!What the devil?”
“Bad news, sir?”the valet enquired sympathetically.
“The worst!”Barney stared at the message again.It was from an aunt after all, but not one of his aunts, who mostly lived in decent obscurity in the country and could safely be ignored.It was worse, much worse.
Mr Wimple,
I would be obliged if you would call on me at your convenience on an urgent matter.I will expect you at ten of the clock this morning.
Maude, Lady Gosforth.
What the devil did Marcus’s appalling aunt want with him?He’d been terrified of her since he’d first met her when he and Marcus were schoolboys.And she’d only grown more formidable with the years.
His first thought was to flee the city, but then recalled that her manservant had established that Barney was in residence.Damn and blast!.
“What time is it?”he asked the valet.
“Half past nine, sir.”
Barney groaned.“Shave me then and be quick about it.And if you happen to slit my throat, I won’t hold it against you.”
#
AT TEN PRECISELY, BARNEYpresented himself on the doorstep of Alverleigh House.Before he could even enquire of the butler whether Marcus was at home—a fellow facing another fellow’s aunt needed reinforcements after all—the butler informed him Lord Alverleigh had taken Lady Hewitt out riding, and before he could gather his wits, the butler had ushered him into the breakfast parlor.Lady Gosforth sat there like a spider in her web, drinking tea and nibbling on something that looked horribly like a rusk.
“Ah, Mr.Wimple, there you are,” she said.“Have you broken your fast?”
“Broken?”he stammered, looking wildly around.“I only just arrived.I didn’t break anything.”
“Brokenyour fast,” she repeated, and when he gave her a blank look, she sighed, and said in a voice geared towards the mentally deficient, “Have you eaten breakfast?”
“Oh,” he said, hugely relieved.“Yes, yes, I have.Sausages and—“
“I did not enquire as towhatyou ate, onlywhetheryou had eaten,” she said in a freezing voice.
“Ah, right.Breakfast, yes, had it already, thank you.”He nodded, relieved that he wasn’t going to be expected to chew on one of those rusk things.
“I have called you here to ask what you intend to do about the gossip.”
“Gossip?What gossip?”he said cautiously.
“The gossip about my nephew, of course.”
