As soon as he recognized the tall, travel-stained man who entered, he snapped back to the present. Leaping to his feet, he moved around his desk, his hand outstretched. "Good Lord, is that you, Michael, or am I hallucinating?"
Lord Michael Kenyon smiled and clasped Lucien's hand in both of his. "No hallucination. I knocked, but your servants have all retired so I used the key you gave me last year."
"Do you want something to eat?"
"No thanks, I had a substantial dinner in Berkshire. But I wouldn't say no to a drink."
Lucien waved his friend to a seat. "I didn't think you could possibly reach London for at least another couple of days. What did you do, hitch a ride with a passing falcon?"
Michael sprawled wearily onto the leather-upholstered sofa, his mud-spattered boots and breeches a mute testimony to his long journey from Wales. "I was rather disturbed by your message, so I decided to make all due speed. What's wrong?"
Thinking how fortunate he was to have friends who would come instantly, without questions, Lucien opened a cabinet and brought out a decanter of the Scottish whiskey that Michael favored. "A kidnapping, and time is running out." After pouring them each a generous measure of whiskey, he sat and succinctly told the story of Kira and Kit.
Michael listened without comment, his lean body relaxed, but his green eyes sharply alert. At the end of the recital he said, "I assume that you've considered cornering each of your suspects and beating the truth out of them."
Trust Michael to suggest the pragmatic solution. "Believe me, I've thought of that," Lucien admitted, "but we have too many suspects, and there is a distinct chance that the true villain is not among them. I'm afraid that it won't do to brutalize a number of wealthy, powerful men without more evidence."
Michael grinned. "One thing I've always liked about you is that you don't waste time being principled during a crisis."
"A characteristic we share," Lucien pointed out. "It is not generally considered a virtue."
"Principles are sometimes an unaffordable luxury." Michael eyed his host quizzically. "Though you didn't say as much, I get the impression that you are motivated as much by a desire to help Lady Kathryn as by general nobility."
"You guessed correctly. I have every intention of marrying her after we've found her sister.
Michael's dark brows rose. "You look rather glum for a prospective bridegroom."
"There are… complications." Lucien stared into his glass. Since the attempted abduction, he and Kit had been circling each other as warily as her two cats. He knew that she was under a terrible strain, and he accepted her desire to avoid physical intimacy while searching for her sister.
Nonetheless, he felt she was silently slipping away from him, and he had no idea how to stop that. In the beginning he had been confident that he could win her heart, but he was beginning to fear that when… if… she got Kira back, he would lose Kit entirely, for she would no longer need him. "Michael, why do men and women drive each other to distraction? And why do we keep reaching out to each other anyhow?"
Michael leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, cradling his whiskey glass between his hands. "I'm the last person to ask for advice about women, Luce," he said wryly. "My record in that area is dismal. But for what it's worth, women have something that men need- and I don't mean the obvious." Lucien glanced up. "Then what do you mean?" His friend hesitated before answering. "Males and females are complimentary. Often that means that we're opposites, with all of the conflict that implies, but it also means that we complete each other. A good woman has a warmth, an accepting quality, that is a blessed relief from all the sharp edges one meets in life." He smiled. "Think of Nicholas's wife."
"If only there were ten thousand more like Clare." "I'll drink to that." Michael lifted his glass in a toast, then downed the rest of the contents. "But I gather there were a fair number of rocks in the road on their journey toward marital bliss. Nicholas and Clare have earned what they have."
Lucien's mind skipped back to a conversation he'd had with a worried Clare before her wedding. "I'd forgotten that. Thank you for the most encouraging words I've had in days."
"Wisdom offered free, and worth every penny."
Lucien laughed, his heart lighter. With Michael beside them, surely they would succeed in finding Kira. And then, by God, he would convince Kit that she needed him as much as he needed her.
Lady Jane's casual chaperonage extended only to spending her nights at Strathmore House. During the day she returned to her own home and went about her usual business. For that reason Kit breakfasted in her room so that she would not run the risk of being alone with Lucien. They were managing to rub along tolerably well during their surreptitious expeditions to Hellion-owned estates, and she didn't want to jeopardize that. She was also afraid what she might say, or do, if she spent too much time with him. Nonetheless, she missed his companionship dreadfully.
After breakfasting, she dressed and tried to work on an essay about the proposed Corn Laws, but she found it impossible to concentrate on protectionist trade policies. She had not written a decent article since Kira's abduction.
Restless, she left the room and went to the portrait gallery on the third floor, which she had been meaning to explore. It would be interesting to see if Lucien's relatives were all as handsome as he. She doubted that was possible.
When she entered the gallery, she saw a tall, brown-haired figure at the far end. Glad to have the company of her cousin, she called, "Good morning, Jason."
The man turned and she realized that he was a stranger, taller than Jason and not as thin. His hair was also a little lighter, with a touch of russet visible in the winter sun.
Coming toward her with a smile, he said, "Sorry, we haven't been introduced. I'm Michael Kenyon, a friend of Lucien's. You must be Lady Kathryn Travers."
"Indeed I am." She moved forward and offered her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you. It's actually Lord Michael, isn't it? Lucien has mentioned you."
"To any friend of Lucien's, plain Michael will do." He bowed over her hand. As he straightened, she saw that his eyes were a remarkable shade of green, not Lucien's changeable green-gold but a true emerald.
"Then you must call me Kit." She studied his face. Even if she had not already known that Michael had been a soldier, she would have guessed that from his quality of steely, contained strength. "Lucien said he was going to send for his most dangerous friend. I gather that is you?"
"I suppose so, but if Luce wants someone who is dangerous, he need only look in a mirror. I'm merely a retired soldier who has gone to grass like an old cavalry horse."
She smiled, liking his dry sense of humor. "Yet you are willing to come out of retirement for my sister's sake. You have my most profound gratitude."
"I hope I can be of service." He gave her a long, appreciative male glance. "There is really another like you?"
"Yes, only more so. You'll see soon, I hope." Since thinking of her sister would make her anxious, she continued, "I came down to take a look at the pictures. Are you familiar with Lucien's family?"
"Yes, and what I don't know, I can invent." He nodded toward the portrait of a blond gentleman in Cavalier dress. "That's Gareth, the third earl, I believe. He supported the Royalists during the Civil War, but took the precaution of having his brother become a Puritan. When the Royalists went into exile, the brother took over the family estates and swore his allegiance to Cromwell. After the Restoration, Gareth came back, reclaimed his lands, and made sure that his brother was amply compensated for his stewardship of the Fairchild interests."