he could. Most definitely. One little pale woman wasn’t going to get the better of him. No, sir. “Just keep clear if she does approach you.”
“Understood.” Russell came to join him at the door. “So I’ll see if I can find out anything more about Lady Pembroke and her routine.”
“From a distance,” Guy reminded him.
“Naturally.”
“And I shall go back to my lovely wife in the country and wait for word from you both.” Nash paused to glance between them. “You know, I really don’t know how Grace and I didn’t see the similarities between you two. Especially Grace. She’s the smartest woman I know.”
Russell made a noise. “We look nothing alike.”
“Not obviously no, but there’s definitely something there. Around the eyes I think.” He gestured with a finger at Russell’s face and Russell batted his finger away. “Not to mention you both have the same hair color.”
“Nash, one day I’m going to send you back to the country to your dilapidated estate and leave you there,” Guy grumbled.
“You wouldn’t dare. You need my charm and good looks. Neither of you have any, that’s to be certain. You both scare the women we help half to death. Besides, the estate isn’t so dilapidated now. It’s coming along quite nicely.”
“I’ll look for my dinner invitation,” Guy drawled.
“Well, it’s not quite ready for dinner parties,” Nash admitted. “But we’ve made damned good progress.”
“Who do you have doing your painting?” Russell asked. “It’s just that...”
Guy left before the men could continue their conversation and mounted his horse. He could do without conversations of matrimonial happiness and painting the houses they shared with their wives. Though he certainly didn’t resent either of them their happiness, it was a sore reminder that he’d never have the same. No woman would go near him if Amelia’s reaction to him was anything to go by.
THIS STORY HAD to be worth it. It just had to.
Worth the water slowly seeping into the hole in her left boot and the raindrops dripping down the back of her coat from the brim of her hat. Worth at least two hours standing in the rain now. But the newspaper boy said he’d seen the earl’s carriage leave earlier in the day and Freya had no intention of letting him escape her again.
Huddled under a tree, she eyed every passing carriage in anticipation of spotting the earl’s crest. She glanced down at her muddied hems. Wearing her smartest muslin dress had been a mistake. The pale fabric soaked up half the puddles, leaving her with skirts that went from white to light brown to a nice dark mud color. She grimaced. How was she ever going to get the earl to take her seriously when she looked as though she had traipsed across a muddy field?
Well, it didn’t matter now. She caught sight of the crest that she didn’t think she would ever forget. She’d studied this man intimately and there was something odd about him. He behaved like a bachelor yet there were no scores of heartbroken women behind him. Even the circumstances behind his broken engagement were odd. Miss Amelia Jenkins had, as far as she could tell, been thrilled with the match and quite in love with the man. So why she should have a change of heart at the last minute, Freya could not fathom.
She had to conclude a mildly attractive man like the earl had lovers somewhere. A gentleman like him did not just live life without female company. Goodness knows, she had written about enough affairs and titillations to last a lifetime. But where these lovers were, she did not know. Not even a hint of something more scandalous and illegal could be found.
There was a story here, though, of that she was certain. He knew something about these missing women, and she wouldn’t let him brush her off again.
Stepping straight into the street, she held up her hands. The carriage bore down upon her, raindrops sliding off the sleek black exterior. The ground vibrated underfoot as the two horses neared. She had anticipated the driver stopping much sooner but the vehicle barreled on. Breath held, she winced, bracing herself for a collision.
What a stupid, foolish hill this would be to die on.
Her heart dropped practically down to her toes when the carriage came to an abrupt halt of whinnying horses and a cursing driver.
“What the bloody hell do you think you’re playing at?” he demanded.
She waved a hand at him and skirted around the carriage, tugged