Stone tore around a corner, and with no other vehicles in sight, allowed the pair to stretch their legs from a trot to a run.
Westerly pointed ahead, his other hand still grasping the seat. “Hold up. That’s it there.”
For a ducal townhouse, it wasn’t at all impressive. They rolled to a stop, and both men jumped off.
Stone handed the reins over to Creighton. “Wait here. We shouldn’t be long.”
Westerley was already through the gate and practically at the entrance. Stone arrived beside him just as an elderly-looking housekeeper, rather than a butler, opened the door a scant few inches to peer through the crack.
“Lord Westerley to see Culpepper. He is in?” His friend’s voice broached no argument. As though donning a cloak, the earl summoned all the lordly arrogance that was in him.
“He’s removed to the country, My Lord. I’m afraid you’ve just missed—”
“When?” Stone interrupted.
The woman’s sagging eyes widened at his tone. “Early this morning. The wee hours, in fact.”
Westerley turned to Stone with a scowl. “Bowcliff Heights is in Herefordshire, is it not?”
But it was the housekeeper who answered. “It is. A considerable distance, too. Such a shame he decided to return to the estate. That house is so cold and unwelcoming. And the Season’s barely begun.”
“Did he travel alone?” Westerley looked fit to be tied.
“Well, no. His man of business is with him, and his valet, of course, and a handful of servants.”
“Was anyone else with him? A woman?” Stone asked this time.
“I don’t know. And I’m not sure it’s any of your business.” Annoyance crept into her expression. “Good day, My Lord, Sir.” She pushed the door closed.
The sound of locks sliding left Stone and Westerley staring at one another. Neither of them believed for a moment that the duke would leave London without having secured a hefty dowry, and in order to do that, he’d need to secure the wife who came with it.
“Is he just out to ruin her, to force my hand in signing the marriage contracts?” Westerley rubbed the back of his neck.
“He must know you wouldn’t allow the match.” Stone tugged at his cravat, which might as well be strangling him. “It’s possible he told his housekeeper he was going to Herefordshire as a ruse. The more likely place to take her would be Gretna.” It was the only way Culpepper could actually marry Lady Tabetha without Westerley’s consent.
“Tabetha wouldn’t settle for Gretna. Drop me at Well’s Place.” They both leapt onto the shiny yellow curricle. “I’ll check in at Brightley’s to see if she is, in fact, with Felicity, and if she isn’t there, I’ll journey to Bowcliff Heights—”
Westerley was wrong. All his sister cared about was the title. “I’ll head north. If I hurry, I can overtake them within the day. If that’s where they’re headed.” Stone had the faster vehicle and wasn’t impeded by a caravan of luggage and servants.
Lines of worry etched his friend’s brow. “You’ve already done more than enough. And it’s likely to be a fool’s errand. I can send a few of my manservants.”
Manservants were not the same as friends. “Nonetheless… You’d do the same for me.” As would Chase, Mantis, Greys, or even Blackheart.
Westerley nodded. “If they aren’t at Bowcliff Heights, I’ll head up after you. And if I do find her with Lady Felicity—”
“She isn’t.” Stone was certain of this.
“If that blighter does anything—”
“I’ll catch them,” Stone promised. “And return her safe and sound.”
For the briefest instant, Westerley trailed a hand lovingly along the upholstered bench between them. “Be gentle with her.”
“Your sister?”
“That goes without saying.” Westerley smoothed his palm over the dash. “But also with my baby.”
Chapter 3
The “Man of Her Dreams”
I did it! Father would be so proud of me!
Tabetha stared out the window at the scenery sliding by, still shocked that she’d secured an offer from a duke. Reaching the outskirts of London had taken forever. Even now, she half-expected her brother or Stone Spencer to come riding up behind them, demanding that they stop.
I would just die!
Her betrothed, the Duke of Culpepper, was seated on the opposite bench, the forward-facing one. Before she had been able to claim the seat beside him, the strangest-looking cat she’d ever seen had beaten her to it. And then the territorial animal had crouched and lowered its head to hiss at her. The feline was completely hairless and although she adored cats, and cats normally adored her, this one was more than a little terrifying.
That being the case, she’d taken the backward-facing