Monroe, Upton, and Berkeley lifted their glasses in unison. “Old friends!” they all echoed.
Julian downed a hefty portion of his drink. He settled into his leather chair and eyed Monroe. “So, tell me, how’s your sister?” Damn it. He hadn’t even firmed his resolve to court Patience Bunbury for five minutes before Cassandra stole back into his thoughts. Very well. He’d only ask a question or two. Perhaps find out who she was in love with. Would her brother know?
“I’m not certain,” Monroe replied, taking a sip of his drink. “Mother wrote asking me to come out and see to her.”
Julian furrowed his brow. “I thought you said she wasn’t at your parents’ estate.”
“She’s not. That’s why I’m here.” Monroe turned to Upton. “Have you seen her?”
Upton looked as if he’d just swallowed something entirely disagreeable. “Me? No. Well, I mean I’ve seen her before, obviously, but I—”
Why was Upton acting so bloody nervous? Was it because he was in love with Cass, too? Julian fought the urge to ask them both outright. Were Upton and Cassandra engaged? Hunt hadn’t said that much, but where was she? And what was she doing? Now Julian was worried. Was Cassandra missing? Neither her brother nor Upton appeared to know where she was.
“Your sister hasn’t been at this house party,” Julian said. “That I can assure you.”
Owen looked at Upton. “She isn’t? But Mother said she was with Lucy, and I—”
“You know Lucy and Cassandra. They’ll turn up, eventually,” Upton said. “To reunion! Drink up!”
All three other men lifted their glasses again.
“Lucy?” Julian asked. “As in Lucy Hunt? Derek’s new wife?”
“Yes,” Monroe replied. “She and Cass are thick as thieves, much to the chagrin of my parents.”
Julian raised both brows. “Is that so?”
Upton, looking pale, stood quickly. “Monroe, old chap, perhaps I might speak to you in the corridor for a moment?”
Monroe shrugged. “I suppose.”
Julian settled back in his chair. It was none of his business why they wanted to have a private word. He’d stay and speak to Berkeley. The viscount seemed like a good enough chap. Julian took another drink. Where was Cassandra?
“Old gambling debt,” Upton whispered as Monroe stood, too.
“I hope we find Cass by morning,” Monroe said as the two men started for the door. “Mother and Father will be here by then, and I don’t want to have to explain why she’s not.”
This time Upton looked as if he’d just been struck by lightning.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Garrett swiped a pack of cards from the top of a table near the door on his way out of the study. He allowed Monroe to go ahead of him and followed him out. Thank God, Monroe had agreed to go with him. For one heart-stopping moment, Garrett had been convinced that Monroe was going to ask him what he wanted to talk about. That wouldn’t have been good. Not good at all. Then, he’d mentioned his parents.
Garrett groaned. And this was why it was better to not get involved in any of Lucy’s schemes.
But better to handle one problem at time.
Garrett knew three things about Owen Monroe. The man loved to drink, he loved beautiful women, and he loved to gamble. He’d gamble on anything. In fact, now that Garrett thought about it, Monroe was more the type who could be called a profligate rake—the moniker the smug Miss Lowndes was so quick to pin on Garrett at every turn. He might just point that out to her the next time she mentioned it. If Miss Lowndes wanted to see a profligate rake in action, she need look no further than Owen Monroe. He was a good man, but he did enjoy his vices.
Miss Lowndes was correct about one thing, however, and that was that Garrett enjoyed gambling from time to time as well. And while he wasn’t as avid a player as Monroe was rumored to be, he was a more successful one if those same rumors were true. Monroe played for the fun of it, whereas Garrett always played to win. And this afternoon, Garrett was certain he was going to have to bet high.
“Let’s go in here,” Garrett said, gesturing to a door several paces down the corridor. It opened into a drawing room, an empty drawing room, thank God.
Monroe gave him an inquiring stare but good-naturedly followed him in. They both made their way to the center of the room where Garrett tossed the cards on the table that sat in the middle.
“What are those for?” Monroe asked, arching a brow.
“I’ll get to that in a moment,” Garrett replied. “First I must tell you something. Something you may not like. I need your promise that you won’t leave this room, however, until you hear me out.”
