Page 23 of Inconvenient Honor
The hapless courier opened and closed his mouth like a carp. The man looked ready to drop. Richard reined in his temper.
“What I mean is, did he notify family in any way?”
“Oh! No, sir. At least I don’t think so,” the man said.
Damn. Until her father returns, the Thornton woman remains my problem.
“Go clean up and seek your rest.” Richard punctuated his words with a shooing motion. “You made admirable time. I will see that your superiors hear about it.”
The man turned to go, but Richard interrupted him. “Send in Mr. Heaton on your way out, if you please.”
“Anything new regarding Volkov?” Richard demanded of Heaton five minutes later.
“No, my lord. He hangs on the edges of the Russian delegation. He gambles, but never to excess. He visits particularly sordid houses of?—”
“Yes, yes, we know his vices. Has he approached Lilias Thornton?”
“No, my lord, no change since yesterday.” If Heaton intended it as a rebuke, Richard saw no sign.
“We’d know if he did,” Heaton continued. “Since we frightened that one ruffian off behind her lane two weeks ago, we’ve seen no other sign of anyone.”
As I know perfectly well.
“If I may be so bold, my lord,” Heaton began. “Have we had word about John Thornton’s return?”
“A messenger arrived a short while ago. Not good news.” Richard showed the young man the message.
“Does she know?” Heaton asked, concern obvious on his face.
“No. Her father left that to us.”
“I’d be happy to call on Miss Thornton,” Heaton said hopefully.
The damned puppy looks like a boy anticipating a sweet.
“No,” Richard said. “I’ll handle it. You may go.” He watched the crestfallen young man leave and considered whether he should assign a different agent to the Thornton woman issue.
Don’t be a bloody fool, Richard. Heaton would make her an unexceptional husband. At least he would if the puppy didn’t bore her to tears, if he could be broad minded enough to overlook?—
Richard frowned. His actions had, at the very least, complicated her marriage prospects. That thought hounded him out the door to call for his carriage.
An hour later, irritated and impatient, he let himself out in front of his sister’s townhouse.
Lily Thorntonhad not been home. She had not been at Chadbourn House. The ladies, he was told, went shopping.
I’ll be damned if I’m going to chase them all over Bond Street.
He could hardly impose on the countess, but he could stop unannounced at his sister’s house and wait. If he were lucky, Georgiana would return home and Lily would be with her. Luck rode with him. He could hear the sound of women’s voices even as he handed his hat to the butler.
“I’ll see if Mrs. Mallet is at home,” the man said.
“Of course she is,” Richard said, brushing past him into the drawing room.
“The Marquess of Glenaire,” the old man intoned behind him with pained expression.
Three faces turned his way, his sister’s irritated, and Catherine’s curious. Lilylooked terrified.
“Don’t mind my brother, Simpson,” Georgiana directed her servant. “He believes manners don’t apply to the Hayden family.”
