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“Well, let’s have the letter,” Frederick remarked. “Missive from the future Mrs. FitzRoy. We have, what, fifteen minutes to scribble a reply? We’d better get at it.”

Joshua took the letter from the butler. “I don’t suppose you recognize his livery?”

“Forest green with black trim,” Oates-Plagitt replied. “No specific house comes to mind, but I can inquire after it at the next meeting of the butlers’ club.”

“When’s that?”

“A fortnight.”

“That will do,” Frederick said with a wave of his hand. “Rip it open, Joshua.”

Joshua waited until the butler left, closing the door behind him.

Dear Major FitzRoy,

I write to express my hope that you remain safe and well while serving in His Majesty’s Armed Forces. ‘Tis vastly improper of me to write to a gentleman, so this will be my first and last such missive.

I must also inform you that I can never be your bride, and I pray that you will put that idea far from your mind. My reputation was not impugned by our foolish behavior, so you need not think that honor demands our marriage. My father would never agree to such a union, and indeed, has informed me that he has already made plans for my betrothal.

I wish with all my heart that you find happiness.

With sincere best wishes.

“Damn it!”

“Ah, love,” his brother said. “The riskiest endeavor of all. Let’s see it.” He held out his hand, leaning over and grabbing the sheet when Joshua didn’t instantly comply. “Smells like a lady—just a touch of fragrance.” Frederick looked over at Joshua. “I think I could give lessons in how to be a courtesan. I would emphasize how unpleasant it is to receive letters drenched in scent. A light spritz is all one needs.”

“I promised on my honor not to search out her name,” Joshua said. He was itching to go to the kitchens and bribe the groom with a gold coin. Or two.

“If you want her, you’ll have to give up foolishness about honor and the like,” Frederick said, with all the cheerful air of a man infamous for adulterous affaires. “This is a clear plea for help, so you need to find out her name. Her father is matching her to a degenerate, likely a man with one foot in the grave.”

Joshua snatched the letter back. “It doesn’t say that.”

“You are not used to parsing elegant texts,” Frederick said. He slid forward just enough that he could put his boot to the wall and drag down the velvet cord. A hollow bell sounded in the distance. “I suspect you don’t know how to write a letter to a lady, either.”

Joshua scowled at him. “Now there’s a sooty streak on the wall from your boot. Can’t you be bothered to stand up?”

“No,” Frederick said simply, upending his snifter into his mouth.

The butler entered with an alacrity that suggested he had been hovering in the hallway.

“Writing desk, ink, fountain pen,” Frederick ordered. “And writing paper. Give me a sheet of the impressive stuff. The crested parchment.”

Oates-Plagitt walked to the far end of the room and returned with a lap desk fitted with a pot of ink. He handed it to Frederick along with several pieces of thick parchment. “Is there anything else you wish?”

“First, more brandy. Second, your help with a letter,” Frederick told him.

Oates-Plagitt bowed. “My pleasure, your lordship.” He returned with the decanter and refilled Frederick’s glass.

“Our butler has the fanciest language of anyone in this house, to go with his double-barreled name,” Frederick explained to Joshua. “He’s helped me extract myself from a marital tangle now and then. Oates-Plagitt, we need to reply to a young lady who’s begging my brother for assistance. I shall play scribe.” Frederick dipped his quill in the ink bottle and tapped it on the rim.

“Dear Lady Macbeth,” Joshua said obediently.

His brother scowled. “You can’t go proposing to a married lady. It’s not allowed. I assiduously pursue ladies wearing rings precisely because I need not fear the altar.”

“Lady Macbeth is a character from a play. I surmise the title is a pseudonym,” Oates-Plagitt put in.

“Pseudo-what?” Frederick asked. “No, don’t tell me.” He frowned at Joshua again. “You need to beguile the lady with elegant rhetoric and then demand to see her. She’ll give in, be it from curiosity or desperation.”