Harriet had taken enough luggage to be gone for a year. Aaron had shown up early the day after Christmas and strapped three large, heavy travel cases to the carriage. Those had been bad enough, but the conveyance had been followed by a wagon laden down with at least eight more trunks.
A saddle dropped onto the bench beside him, the jangle of buckles and the slap of leather against wood jarring Aaron from his thoughts.
“London.”
“What?” He looked up at Fitzroy.
“London. She’s in London.”
“What’s going on in here?” Hudson asked, poking his head around the corner from the stalls.
Aaron ignored him and stood, staring down the redheaded groom who looked . . . angry? “Why is she in London?”
“Because that meddlesome woman thinks true love will make you run after her. She doesn’t understand love doesn’t demand what it wants. Instead, it will sacrifice itself to give the other person what they need.”
Aaron stood there dumbfounded, putting together the pieces.
It must have come together for Hudson at about the same time because he suddenly started laughing. “Let me get this straight. Harriet took Sophia to London hoping Aaron would come running after them but didn’t tell Aaron where they would be, so even if he was of a mind to do that, he wouldn’t have been able to do so without your intervention?”
Both men turned to Hudson, who shrugged. “I just want to make sure I know the story before I go share it with my wife.”
“You aren’t tired of saying that yet?” Aaron asked.
“Not at all.”
A ripple of laughter sounded from the row of stalls.
Hudson grinned. “Never mind. She’s already heard. Never try to keep secrets in this stable.”
Bianca came running around the corner. Unfortunately, she wasn’t alone. Oliver and Graham were on her bootheels. Why had no one told these people that aristocrats were not supposed to tarry in stables? Collect the horse, drop off the horse, stay out of the horse trainer’s business.
“You’re going to London, aren’t you?” She clapped her hands. “Should we all come?”
“No,” Aaron said firmly.
Her face fell. “You aren’t going to London?”
“Oh, I’m going to London, but you aren’t coming with me.” He turned to Fitzroy. “Tell me what you know.”
“They’re staying at Clarendon Hotel.”
Aaron nodded and turned back to his friends, all of whom were smiling like lunatics. He sighed. “You are enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Immensely.” Oliver grinned. “I just wish Fitzroy had told me instead of you so that I could drag you off by the ear like you did me.”
“The situations are completely different.”
“The lady loves you, you love the lady but think she wants more than you can offer, so she runs off to supposedly get it, and if you don’t follow her, you might lose her forever?” Oliver shrugged. “You’re right. I don’t see the similarities at all.”
“You win the award for most irritating.” Aaron looked to Graham. “How is your wife?”
The question surprised him. “I . . . believe she’s doing well?”
“Good. You can come with me. I still feel strange going to your parents’ home without you.”
“You know Oliver’s coming too, right? It’s always been the three of us. Just because we have wives doesn’t change that.”
Aaron opened his mouth.
Graham cut in. “Nor does the fact that you currently find him annoying.”
Aaron sighed.
Oliver clapped him on the shoulder. “What was it you told me?”
“Stop being a chub and fight for the woman you love.”
“Ah yes,” Oliver said. “I remember now. Is it my turn to say that to you?”
As Aaron considered the ramifications of hitting a man who would one day be an earl, Oliver scampered away, laughing.
“You know,” Graham mused, “Father knows the archbishop. We might be able to make a case that Miss Fitzroy doesn’t have a parish and get you a special license.”
“If you get married without me, Aaron Whitworth, I’ll be very upset.” Bianca crossed her arms and frowned.
“And I’ll be upset if you make my wife upset.” The grin on Hudson’s face took the threat out of his statement.
Not that Aaron cared. His mind was stuck on the idea that he could come home from London with a wife and not just the promise of one.
He looked at Fitzroy. “I won’t have anything but a one-room cottage for at least a year.”
“She spent two years sleeping under a wagon. I don’t think she’ll mind.”
“Am I to assume, then, that I have your blessing?”
“I wouldn’t have told you where she was if you didn’t. But if you think to marry her without me