“Yes, Your Grace.”
George drummed his fingers on the table. Penelope would come through—she always did—and he had a feeling he would need a chaperone who would give them the privacy needed to speak openly. Whatever was bothering Sybil, he doubted she would want to confide it before her mother.
After all, her mother may well be the source of her discomfort. Perhaps it could be something to do with the man her mother had been secretly meeting. Had her husband finally discovered her indiscretion? The sooner he married Sybil and removed her from that environment, the better.
It took him very little time to dress and leave the house, meeting Penelope as he had expected outside Sybil’s house.
“What is this about, cousin dear?” she asked as she took his arm. “I presume it’s something urgent.”
“As do I.”
She stopped him with a slight pressure against his arm. “You are serious about marrying her?” she asked.
“It’s in the papers, Pen.”
“Yes, but—” She paused to gather her thoughts, and he could almost see the burning curiosity in her eyes. “You should not marry a girl merely to spite your mother.”
Penelope knew everything; she was one of the few who knew the truth of his parentage, and although she had never once shown any sign of judging him for it, it was still a tender point of contention. “I would never shackle myself to a lady for such pettiness,” he said. “You may be certain of that.”
After a moment, she nodded, and they ascended the steps to the Marquess of Averley’s home. It was a well-proportioned townhouse in Mayfair, and the butler who greeted them, as he had done once before, was the epitome of a good and respectable butler.
Lord Averley was no doubt doing everything he could to make up for the fact he had chosen a former courtesan as his bride.
To George’s relief, Sybil was in the drawing room, and when they were announced, she rushed to his side, holding out her hands. “George,” she said in a hushed tone as she noticed Penelope behind him. “I’m so very glad you’re here.”
He clasped her hands, looking down into her face. Unlike the last time they had met, when she had been flushed and sparkling and full of affection, she was pale and drawn, and there was an expression in her eyes he couldn’t like. “Sybil,” he said in return, squeezing her fingers. “I leave for five days and there is already some crisis.”
Lady Averley stood from where she had been sitting in a corner of the room. “Not a crisis,” she said, casting a quelling glance at Sybil. George noted it and privately resolved to get Sybil on her own. “Sybil has merely had a disturbed night, have you not, my love?”
“Yes,” Sybil murmured, ducking her head. “A very disturbed night.”
George produced a pretty gold and pearl bracelet and held it out for her. “Might this lighten your day?”
To his relief, a tiny smile caught at the corners of her mouth, and as Penelope crossed the room to introduce herself properly to Sybil’s mother, thus giving them a level of privacy they would not have otherwise had, she clasped it around her wrist. “I love it.”
“Then I am glad I purchased it for you.” He guided her to the sofa and sat her down, keeping one of her hands in his. “What is it, my darling?”
“Oh.” Her eyes fluttered shut. “Say that again.”
“My darling.”
“I would do anything you asked me to if you just said those words to me.”
“Duly noted—and do not think I will not take advantage.” He spread her fingers and slid his between, loving the way their hands slotted together as though they were designed as one. “But I did not come here to seduce you today.”
His joke brought only a weak smile to her lips as she leaned in to say, “There have been… letters.”
“What sort of letters?” She glanced at her mother, and he understood her silent request. Whatever the reason, her mother did not want her talking about the letters, or giving any details behind them. Suggestions as to what the letters were and might contain flooded his mind, but he clamped down on his instinctive desire to rip London apart brick by brick to find whatever culprit had scared her.
There would be time for that when he had a few more details about the situation.
“My cousin has a desire to go for a walk,” he said in a loud enough voice that Lady Averley would be able to hear. “I believe she wishes to visit the library. We were hoping you would accompany us.”
Penelope, the wonderful lady that she was, rose admirably to the challenge and came to sit beside them with a wide smile. “Indeed, I have a great desire to see Mrs. Radcliffe’s latest novel. I’ve heard it’s positively scandalous.”
Lady Averley also joined them, her lips pursed in disapproval. “The library?”
“Yes, Lady Sybil has several times expressed an interest in the library.”
