*
Two residences down,Neville sat at a table in the far corner of Blackwell’s front parlor, attempting to keep his mind on the card game in progress between himself, Asquith, Blackwell, and a fourth, Jacob Daughtry.
They’d picked up Daughtry somewhere along the way home from Almack’s. Neville had been so preoccupied by his thoughts, exactlywherethey’d run into the man was unclear.Indisputably, however, Asquith had suggested they all head to Blackwell’s.
Unfortunately, Blackwell lived only two doors down from D’Acre House, where Millicent was currently residing.
As they’d passed D’Acre House on foot, Neville had glanced up at the windows. He hadn’t caught a glimpse of Millie. Instead, the dark squares had stared down in silent accusation as if to ask, “Who are you to know what we conceal?”
Who was he? He was the man who had sworn to protect Millicent.
To that end, he wished to warn Adrian of Willard’s true character.Urgently.A formal courtship would require Asquith, as her guardian, to give permission, but, since Millie resided with Adrian, Neville wouldn’t put it past Willard to attempt to ingratiate himself with the marquess before Asquith was able to express misgivings.
But how could Neville communicate to Adrian the danger he sensed without betraying Asquith’s trust? Willard was always careful to maintain his façade of perfection with older, more powerful men. And the only real evidence Neville could provide against Willard concerned how he had treated Asquith back in school.
He could not reveal that secret without Asquith’s permission.
He glanced across the table, attempting again to catch Asquith’s eye.
By now, he’d hoped to have a chance to speak with Asquith, but the game of Vingt-et-un Daughtry had suggested kept dragging on, and Asquith’s dithering rendered private conversation impossible. Soon, Neville would have to give up, go home, and face his own silent halls.
Halls empty of his younger brother and his once-incessant questions. Empty, too, of the constant chatter of his estranged mother, who had elected to remain at her house in Brighton thisSeason as Neville was, as she’d put it, “far too much like his managing father.”
Finally, Asquith made his choice.
Carefully, Asquith aligned the Queen of Heart’s bottom edge with the table’s inlay with unnerving precision…further indication he, too, was both present and far away. He hadn’t displayed that kind of behavior in a long time. Neville thought he could identify the hunted look behind his friend’s mask of concentration.
Both of them had Willard on their minds.
Blackwell whistled low. “Bad luck, Nev.”
“Indeed. I cannot top that hand.” Neville drummed his fingers. “You’ll take a vowel, no?”
“Of course,” Asquith replied, frowning.
The amount Neville had wagered wasn’t very large. The other men likely had more coin on their persons. Prior to his brother’s troubles, Neville would have as well.
But ready coin was—a-hem—more than a little difficult to obtain right now. And until he found the witness or recovered the evidence, his stash would continue to dwindle with every clandestine inquiry he made on his brother’s behalf, at least until Lady Day, when the quarterly rents would come due.
“You’re good for it,” Asquith responded. “I know.”
Neville pushed back from the table.
Lucky for him, this was only a game among friends. Not that he would have wagered otherwise. He was a man of honor. He never ventured what he could not pay, just as he never gave his word and then refused to do his duty.
Cards clicked behind him as he wandered over to the window. Outside, the streetlamp flickered, dimmed by increasingly hazed glass. He cupped his neck, squeezing the corded muscles beneath his collar and cravat. The tension reliefwas worth the scold he’d catch from his valet for causing unnecessary wrinkles in his clothes.
“Come back,” Blackwell called. “Sit down.”
“I’m out,” Neville replied. In more ways than one.
He was out of ideas. Out of advantages. Nearly out of unallotted coin. And, given his Uncle’s pending move and Willard’s sudden interest in Millicent, almost out of time.
“You can still provide advice,” Blackwell reasoned.
“Leave Neville alone,” Asquith said. “Clearly, his mind isn’t on the game.”
Blackwell snorted. “You don’t say.”