“I have. Only the once,” Lucas admitted roughly. “But how would you know about her unless you had something to do with that all?”
“I don’t. I don’t even know where she is in London, which is why I need your help.”
“My help? Of all the—”
“Be quiet, Lucas. And listen to me now.”
Lucas’s brows shot up beneath his thatch of gold curls.
“Your sister wishes to see her mother. It is her most cherished desire.”
Sir Tracy frowned. “She told me that the other day. Told me a few times before too,” he added reluctantly. “But she don’t understand.”
“She does understand. And you must allow it. You must arrange a meeting between them in a secure location so that your sister’s safety will not be in jeopardy. Can you do that before your mother departs for the Continent?”
“No.” His jaw turned mulish. “If you know what my mother is now you’ll know that a girl like my sister shouldn’t be exposed to that sort of business.”
“Your sister is not a girl. She is a woman. And she already knows your mother’s business.”
Lucas’s shoulders fell. “She—”
“She is headstrong and reckless, but she is also resourceful and uncannily wise.” And beautiful and generous-hearted and she drove him insane with wanting her, and with his next words he was giving her away. “Tomorrow I will call upon her and ask for her hand, and she will accept me—”
Lucas’s mouth shot open. “Y—”
“—unless you promise me that you will take her to see Lady Carlyle before she leaves London.”
Sir Tracy’s brow furrowed. “And if I make that promise?”
“I will make certain that after I call on her tomorrow she will be as convinced as you are that I am not the man for her. Quite soundly convinced.” His gut was hollow, his pulse erratic, and his lungs seemed to have relinquished their will to function. If this was how it finally felt to be a real hero, heroism could go to the dogs.
Lucas peered at him with wary eyes. “And I suppose you expect to attend this interview too. To make certain I don’t renege.”
“I am a man of my word, Lucas. I will pay you the compliment of believing you are as well.”
“Pretty phrases, Yale. But I’m no blushing virgin to be bamboozled.”
Wyn had never imagined that learning his great-aunt’s lessons so well would bring him to this. “Then believe this: I could not remain for the interview even if I wished it. I must leave town early tomorrow and haven’t an idea of when I will return.” But after the morning, Yarmouth’s man in Savege’s house would have no doubt that Diantha meant more to him than mere sport. Even before Wyn reached Yarmouth, she would be safe.
“No.” Lucas shook his head. “She’s tenacious. Why, just look at her with my mother! If she wants you she’ll stick, whether you like it or not.”
“Not after this. I assure you.”
Lucas seemed to consider. His eyes narrowed. “Permanently? No making it up to her the day after?”
“Nor next week, nor next month. I give you my word. As a gentleman.”
It was with a sick sort of relief sliding through him that he watched Lucas nod, at first tentatively, then with greater conviction.
“All right,” he finally said. “Do I have your word, Yale?”
“You have it.” Just as a lady with lapis eyes had the rest of him.
Wyn left behind Lucas and the scents of wine and righteous indignation, but the sensation of profound loss he could not throw off. He went to Dover Street. It seemed likely he would die upon reaching the duke’s castle, and he wished all his business settled first.
The gold numbers and falcon-shaped knocker on the door of 14½ glittered in the lamplight. Wyn rang the bell and the panel opened, revealing a giant ape of a man with a baby’s face.
“Evening, sir.”
“Is anyone in, or am I the lone bird in the roost tonight, Grimm?”
“Milord is within.”
“Grimm, I’ve an assignment for you. Are you available for the next several days?”
The Falcon Club’s hulking henchman nodded heavily. Wyn gave him the Savege’s house number, instructed him to keep watch until he arrived the following day and to learn from the morning tradesmen and servants what he could concerning newcomers in the household.
Grimm planted a hat atop his head. “You can count on Joseph Grimm, sir. None will harm her tonight.”
When Wyn turned from the closing door, the Falcon Club’s secretary stood in the parlor entrance.
“Welcome home, Yale.”
Wyn took Viscount Colin Gray’s extended hand. The nobleman’s clasp was like everything about him: powerful, steady, confident. Ten years ago Colin had found him at Cambridge, surpassing his masters in every subject, frustrated and restless like a caged animal fed on butchered meat while hungering for the hunt. Colin had brought him here, to help found an agency and do work for which he would rarely be thanked and never feted. Eager to make something of himself through the use of his intelligence, to prove his father and brothers wrong, Wyn had jumped at the chance.
“I have commandeered Grimm.” He released the viscount’s grasp and moved into the parlor, a modest, paneled chamber of quiet elegance that accommodated only five people. Five original members of the club, of which only he and Constance now remained along with Gray. But not for long.
The viscount moved to the sideboard. “What can I pour you?”
“Nothing, thank you.”
Gray’s steely blue eyes barely acknowledged the unprecedented moment. He poured and settled into a chair, glass in hand.
“What brings you here tonight, Yale? The need for Grimm only?”
“Alex Savege’s sister-in-law, Diantha Lucas, is being watched by a hireling of a nasty fellow. I need Grimm to keep her in sight until I can send you word that she is clear of danger.”
Gray nodded. “It was Diantha Lucas, then?”
“What was?”
The viscount stood and opened a small casket set on the mantel. From it he withdrew a folded sheet of foolscap and extended it to Wyn.
The hand crossing the paper was firm and feminine.
Attn: Secretary, The Falcon Club
14½ Dover Street, London
Sir,
Despite the difficulties that my assistant faced on the road in following the member of your club that you call Raven, I do know the identity of this man. I will not disclose it here lest prying eyes intercept this message.
I am telling you this—rather than making it public to the people of England who deserve to know—because with Raven in Shropshire traveled a young lady of Quality. I am not interested in exposing innocent persons to the censure of society, only in uncovering injustice. I do not wish to bring Ignominy down upon the lady, yet I fear that if I reveal the identity of your fellow club member this lady will not escape unscathed. Thus, my hands are tied.
I felt it necessary to bring this to your attention, not only to inform you that I still wish to see your establishment exposed to the public for scrutiny, and its ledgers inspected, but also so that you will know I am quite sincere in my intentions. You, I think, know little of honor and less of gentility. But perhaps your friend, Raven, is another sort of man. I will rely upon it.