“I thought it unlikely too, but thought I should show it to you on the chance it might help in some way.”
Indeed it might. The angry claimant’s signature provided his name. Horace Yarnell. Below the name, in clear block letters, could be found the location of his property: Morgan House, County Devon.
* * *
Upon Gabriel’s return home in late afternoon, the butler informed him that he had visitors in the drawing room. “I could not refuse their request to wait, sir, knowing they are your friends and considering their station.”
Stratton and his duchess had called.
“Please inform Miss Waverly and ask her to join us,” he said. Then he strode up the stairs, rehearsing the conversation he would have if given the chance. It was inexcusable for Stratton to allow Clara to force this social call. If a man says he will accommodate his friend’s wife in due time, then it was only appropriate for that friend and wife to wait until due time was in fact due.
He strode into the drawing room, took one look at his guests, and halted both his feet and his brain. Stratton was not alone. He was accompanied by not only Clara, but two other women, a pretty little blond lady he did not know and a dark specter he knew all too well.
Bows. Greetings. Smiles. Stratton sidled very close. “I did warn you.”
“Inexcusable,” he muttered back. Then he smiled as charmingly as he could manage. “Excuse me for one moment, please, ladies.” He pivoted and left the chamber, beckoning the footman on duty to follow.
“Go at once to Miss Waverly and tell her that she is not to come to the library under any circumstances.”
He sent the man off, returned to the drawing room, and took a seat. “What a treat, ladies. Here I thought I would have to spend the next few hours on correspondence and other boring but important duties. Instead I get to gossip with all of you.”
“We will not distract you for long,” the duchess said. “However, I thought it important to do so for a short while.”
Stratton appeared both subdued and vaguely amused. This would be the duchess’s party, from the way it had started.
Lady Farnsworth, wearing green raw silk and an orange shawl, treated him to a brief, tight smile. “Most important,” she echoed.
“Perhaps you have all called to explain how I can improve. If so, there is no need. Lady Farnsworth has already tilled that hectare sufficiently.”
“I assure you it is on another matter entirely, which does not mean there is not much to improve. Isn’t there with all of us?” The duchess smiled ever so graciously. “Before I begin, I must insist that you not hold my husband responsible in any way for what I am about to explain. He was ignorant until we married, and sworn to secrecy after. He had no influence in the matter.”
“Although he is relieved he will finally be released from his oath,” Stratton said. “You do not have to speak of me as if I am in China instead of sitting right here, darling. Nor should you try to insist on anything under the circumstances. Langford is rational and fair. He will not blameme.”
“Do not count on it,” Gabriel said. “You already have much to answer for regarding today.”
“It was a surprise to me when the other ladies arrived,” Stratton said.
“It was appropriate that we be here,” Lady Farnsworth intoned. “Let us get on with it, Clara. If there will be a duel at dawn, I still need to find my second.”
The duchess fixed her bright gaze on Langford. “There is a journal you may have heard of,” she said. “It is calledParnassus.”
“I may have heard of it in passing.”
Stratton bit back a smile.
“Lady Farnsworth writes for it.”
“Does she indeed?”
Lady Farnsworth sighed heavily. “Oh, for goodness sake, as if you did not know.”
“Dorothy, please,” the duchess murmured.
“Forgive me. I will take a turn so I do not interfere in the conversation. Gentlemen, do not get up, I beg you.” Lady Farnsworth stood and strolled away, turning her attention to the chamber’s appointments.
“Mrs. Galbreath is the editor and part owner ofParnassus, Langford,” the duchess said.
He swung his gaze to Mrs. Galbreath.
