“Perhaps,” Juliette agreed. If she could convince him. “Perhaps not. It is a complicated situation.”
Amelia chuckled. “People will invariably make a mess of their emotions when in truth, love is a simple thing. You either feel it or you don’t. But if you do... well, I am of the opinion that it is worth fighting for.”
Juliette could not deny sharing that sentiment. But Florian would not be an easy man to convince. Talking to him and attempting to reason with him had yielded no results thus far. But something else had... something Juliette might be wise to use to her advantage. Because if there was one thing he seemed to have trouble resisting, it was her closeness. She tempted him. He’d confessed as much. So if she truly wanted to win him, she might have to speak to his desire instead of to his brain.
After helping the Duchess of Coventry deliver her son, Florian had left her and the rest of her family to marvel over the newborn baby. Returning to St. Agatha’s, he’d resolved to keep his distance from Lady Juliette by avoiding all social events in the coming weeks and focusing on his work.
“Did the footman you questioned yield any results?” he asked Henry when he came to call two days later.
“None,” Henry said with a downcast expression. “I’m starting to think he’s innocent.”
“Then we’ll need to look at the other servants,” Florian said.
“There’s something else.” Lowell pushed his hands into his pockets. “Elmwood has called me out.”
“What!” Florian stared at his brother.
“He thinks I’m bedding his wife.”
“Jesus!” Although he knew Henry had better sense, he still had to ask, “You’re not, are you?”
“Of course not, but good luck convincing Elmwood of that. He demands satisfaction.”
“You could apologize,” Florian suggested.
“That would imply I’m guilty, which I’m not.”
Fair point. Florian tapped his fingers on his desk and considered his brother. “When are you supposed to meet?”
Henry sighed. “I’m not sure. Apparently Elmwood has left London on business. He didn’t say when he’d be back, but he insisted I be ready.”
“Good. That gives us some time to get to the bottom of this—find out who started the rumor and put an end to it.”
“Do you think it has something to do with the threats against you?” When Florian didn’t reply, Henry said, “I thought perhaps the person behind it might have learned of my investigation into Armswell’s poisoning and forged a plan to remove me from the picture.”
“Well, if that’s true, then it means we’re following the right lead by questioning Armswell’s footman.”
Henry nodded and stood. “I know you have a lot of other things on your mind besides all of this, so I’ll head over to Armswell House and take a closer look at the rest of the servants.”
“What about your club?”
Henry paused in the doorway. “It doesn’t open for another couple of hours, so I have time.”
As soon as he’d gone, Florian wondered if he ought to tell his brother about the resemblance between Mr. Mortedge and Bartholomew. He shook his head. The more he thought about it, the more absurd it seemed. Perhaps the similarities he’d observed at the Hawthorne Ball had simply been the result of too much champagne. But if that was the case, Florian couldn’t for the life of him understand the threats. He had no other enemies that he knew of, so it made no sense.
A knock at the door brought a nurse into the room. “This just arrived for you,” she said, handing him a letter and departing once more.
Florian tore open the seal and read the missive.
Blaire never arrived. We’re in dire need of help. Please come quickly.
Haines
Florian’s nerves twisted into a riotous mess as incomprehension took hold. It was followed by anger and a jarring need for answers. Pushing himself to his feet, he snatched up his jacket and shoved his arms into the sleeves. If Mr. Blaire, the physician who’d been tasked with reporting updates from the quarantine ship, had betrayed him, the man would have to pay.
“He’s not here,” Mr. Blaire’s manservant told Florian half an hour later. “He and his wife have gone out for the evening.”
“Where to?” Florian asked, aiming for a sense of calm he did not feel in the slightest.
