A dull red flush washed over Weston’s cheeks.
“It’s appalling!”
Both men looked surprised at the vehemence in Sir Hugh’s voice. “That is…not that you have suddenly become the toast of the ton, but that her…but that your wife…you must admit, Weston,” he stammered, “her behavior is better suited to a Cyprian than a countess.”
Noble’s narrow-eyed gaze flashed silver as it pinned Sir Hugh back in his chair. “You are speaking of my wife, Tolly. I find myself warning you again to temper your speech when speaking of her.”
Sir Hugh spread his hands in a sign of subjugation. “No offense was intended toward your good lady, I assure you, Weston. As one of your oldest friends, I simply want to make sure that she does nothing — inadvertently, of course — that might damage your reputation more than it is. God knows I’ve bent over backward trying to smooth things over for you…”
Noble made a dismissive movement and glanced at the clock residing on a table a few feet away. “Apology accepted. I have an appointment to keep shortly, Tolly. If you don’t mind, I’d like to hear what Harry has to say before I keep it.”
The baronet flushed and shot an unreadable look at him, then settled back in his chair with an expression approaching petulance.
“You were saying, Harry?”
“Ah.” Rosse raised an inquisitory eyebrow. Weston had no difficulty in understanding the movement. “Tolly, I’m sure, can be counted on to keep private all that is said between us.”
Sir Hugh’s round face lost its petulant expression. “Of course, my word and all that. What is the big secret?”
“Harry has done a little investigating into an affair for me. It seems someone wishes me ill, and made an attempt to imprison me the other night.”
Sir Hugh’s jaw dropped. “No! Where? When? What happened? Good God, man, you weren’t hurt, were you?”
Weston explained the situation in a few succinct sentences.
Sir Hugh cleared his throat and put a hand on the older man’s arm. “Anything I can do, Noble. I am completely at your service. And your lady’s, too, of course.”
Noble nodded and turned back to Rosse.
“Well, as I was telling Noble, there’s not much to go on now. His mistress, who wrote the note that was responsible for him being lured to the house, has disappeared. No one knows of her whereabouts, although the servants report she left in a hurry.”
“You’ve spoken with the servants?” Sir Hugh asked.
“Yes, I had some luck there and located the cook. All of the servants were paid two months’ wages and told to leave immediately.”
“That’s very suspicious!” Sir Hugh said.
Noble ignored him. “You found no report of a stranger being seen at the house? No visitors who were beyond Mariah’s normal circle of friends?”
“None. At least, none that I’ve heard from yet. I’m calling on a few men I know to help with the investigation, so perhaps they will be able to uncover something about her visitors.”
“Excellent. I’m sure you’ll have results, Harry. And now I must be off, gentleman. I have an appointment with a Mr. Stafford.”
“Stafford?” Rosse asked, steepling his fingers together under his chin. “Bow Street Runners?”
“Yes. I need an additional pair of eyes.”
“Focused on a certain Scotsman?”
“Among other individuals, yes,” Noble responded and started for the door.
“Weston — hold for a moment, man.” Sir Hugh hurried after the Black Earl. “Allow me to be of assistance as well, Noble. I will do whatever I can to aid you in this. Is there some task I can accomplish for you?”
“Nothing, thank you, Tolly.”
“Nonsense, there must be something.” Sir Hugh put a restraining hand on the earl’s sleeve. Noble, at the door, looked down at the hand on his arm, then up at the gently perspiring baronet. He bit back words of annoyance, reminding himself that Tolly was enthusiastic, if not overly bright. “I appreciate the offer, Tolly,” he said, collecting his hat and stick from the attendant. “I will let you know when I have something for you to do.”
Gillian was in the drawing room, holding up a piece of crimson Spitalfield silk against the wall and imagining a gilded ceiling with medallions formed from diamond and octagon shapes.
“What do you think, Nick? The crimson silk, or the bronze green silk? Or something else entirely?” Gillian asked, digging through a stack of wallpaper and fabric samples. “Here, look at this lovely blue. It’s called smalt. Isn’t it rich? Can’t you just imagine this room in smalt, with the woodwork picked out in gilt?”
Nick looked at the fabrics and selected one he liked. “Peach Blossom. Yeees, it’s lovely, but a little…well, pink, don’t you think?”
“What’s pink? Oooh, you have fabric samples? Did the earl give you permission to redecorate, then?” Charlotte bustled in through the door before Tremayne Two could announce her. “Let me see. No, definitely not pale colors, those are passé. You want a strong, vibrant color. I like this crimson.”
Gillian looked at the butler. “Tremayne, will you order the carriage brought round as soon as possible? Lady Charlotte and I have a call to pay.”
“Patent yellow, now there’s an ugly color. Did you hear that the Duke of Wellington has yellow in his drawing room? Did you ever hear of such a thing?”
“As you wish, my lady.”
“This sea green would be a good choice for a dining room. What color is your dining room now?”
Nick looked at the sea green and made a face.
“It’s fawn. Oh, Tremayne? Would you have one of the boys bring Piddle and Erp around?”
Tremayne gave her a weak smile. Although the dogs’ digestive extravagances had apparently ceased, they were still prone to occasional setbacks, and the staff considered themselves martyrs to her dogs. “Certainly, madam. Er…will the hounds be riding in the same carriage as you, or should I have their carriage brought around as well?”
“Walnut is nice, too. With the fussy bits picked out in cream or stone.”
Nick nodded.
“Well, they can hardly protect me if they are in a separate carriage, Tremayne.”
“Protect you, madam?”
“But I don’t like this at all, this chocolate color. It’s much harsher than walnut. This lilac number two is pretty. What do you think, Nick?”
Nick pointed to the lilac.
“Yes, protect me, Tremayne Two. His lordship made me promise I wouldn’t go out without ample protection, lest his attacker try to kidnap Master Nicholas or myself.”
“No, I’ve changed my mind about the lilac, Nick, despite your preference for it. Picture gallery red number three. That’s a very popular color, I believe. Can’t you see the walls done in picture gallery red number three?”
Nick eyed the walls with a speculative gaze, his lips pursed. He shook his head.
“I beg your pardon, my lady, but I hardly feel the hounds are suitable protection.”
“No? I can see it. Well, perhaps picture gallery red number two.”
Gillian’s head began to spin as a result of the cross conversation, but she focused on what was most important. “I don’t agree with you at all, Tremayne. They are ample protection. No one would dare accost either Nick or me when in their presence.”
Nick tapped Charlotte on the arm and pointed out a swatch of sky blue.
“Mmmm. Yes, yes, I think you may have something there. Sky blue with the skirting boards painted in cream?”
“I hasten to remind your ladyship of the episode occurring just this morning in the park. If you recall, the hounds, when your ladyship was approached by the street hawker, dragged you a considerable distance to escape contact with the individual.”
“Then again, Gillian could go with a nice striped wallpaper.”