Page 4

“While we’re walking, I may as well point out my latest additions,” Lord Blackstone predictably said. “Although, you might have already noticed them on your way in.”

“I did notice quite a few specimens, my lord,” he responded mutedly.

As they walked through the doorway and entered the gallery, Lord Blackstone placed an arm around Henry’s shoulders—or attempted to, at least, as Henry was more than a head taller than him.

“Now,” the viscount continued, “I know you are partial to living animals, but I shall convert you to my collection yet. Have you seen my weasel? Oh, she is a remarkable creature. Now, where is she?”

He led the way forward, talking to himself as he moved through the different animals, and Henry followed him with barely restrained repulsion.

Soon, however, footsteps sounded down the corridor, and Mr. Sebastian Drake appeared at the other end.

Praise heaven. Henry was saved.

“Drake!” Lord Blackstone cried out, releasing Henry as he faced the other gentleman. “You have arrived in the perfect moment. I was just about to show Branok my lovely weasel. Have you seen her?”

“I have indeed been granted that very distinct pleasure, my lord,” Mr. Drake responded.

Henry snatched up his chance to leave before it could be taken from him.

“I must see these arrive at the printers,” Henry said, lifting the satchel and backing away with a bow. “Good day.”

“Oh, but of course. Good day, Branok. Now, Drake. Come. I have found her. Oh, no. That is not a weasel. That is a marten. I know she must be nearby.”

He continued mumbling to himself as he searched through his countless animals, and Henry reached Mr. Drake.

“Branok,” Mr. Drake greeted. “How were the West Indies?”

“Stifling.” He lowered his voice so the still-muttering Lord Blackstone could not hear. “But preferable to this gallery.”

Mr. Drake chuckled. “How long have you been trapped here with him?” he asked from the side of his mouth.

“Thankfully only a moment before you arrived. But I’m afraid you shall have to suffer with tales of his weasel now.”

“I’ll manage,” Mr. Drake responded, though he looked at the viscount with impatience before glancing back at Henry. “Care for a game of billiards later?”

Henry clicked his tongue in disappointment. “I do wish I could, but I am slated for another expedition.”

“Gads, man,” Mr. Drake said, “do you never rest?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“I know she’s around here somewhere,” Lord Blackstone said from behind Henry.

The man’s eyes focused on the ceiling where the birds hung. Why he’d find a weasel flying with the stagnant fowl was beyond Henry.

He faced Mr. Drake again. “I shall return next month for a week or two, though. We can meet then?”

“Yes, fine. I’ll be here for the entirety of the Season.”

Henry nodded. He didn’t know much about Mr. Drake, but he assumed he was in London for the same reason as the rest of the single gentlemen—they were all in search of a wife.

Henry, however, was the furthest from even wishing to find a wife. He’d almost been coerced into marrying a woman before, but when he’d returned from Greenland, she’d already married another.

It was just as well. Henry hadn’t really liked her anyway. Besides, he did not want a wife to leave at home—a wife who pined for him or whom he pined for while he was away. It wouldn’t be fair for either of them.

At any rate, Lord Blackstone had made it clear that, should Henry ever marry, the excursions, the personal guides, and the connections with the printers would be eliminated.

“I shall keep you and your attentions for as long as possible, Branok,” Lord Blackstone had said. “And if you marry, I shall be the first in line to congratulate you. However, I cannot fund excursions for a distracted gentleman, and there is no one more distracted than a married man. Take it from me.”