"Brandy." Nash reached over and picked up a crystal snifter. Caleb accepted the glass and both men took a drink.
"He follows your career, you know. He has every article that has been printed in the newspapers carefully pasted into a scrapbook. The earl is extremely proud of you, Caleb."
He shifted uncomfortably. With four boys in the family and being the most troublesome of the lot, he had often been overlooked—until he joined the army. After that the relationship between him and his father had changed, become what he had always hoped it would be.
"How is my father?" Caleb asked. "Well, I trust."
"Very well, I'm pleased to say. Still, I believe he would very much like to see you."
"He's at Selhurst, I gather."
He nodded. "You know how he loves his horses."
It was the single thing the two of them had in common. Funny, but until his job at Parklands, Caleb had never understood how much he had wanted that sort of life for himself. As he had worked each day with the horses, he found himself imagining a stableful of beautiful, blooded Thoroughbreds much like the ones at Selhurst Manor. The image of a wife and children had also popped into his head, but he had ruthlessly forced those thoughts away. His life was the army. It always would be.
"What about my brothers? Have you any news of them?"
Nash chuckled. "Christian is still in the blissful throes of the newly married. Ethan—well, you know what a wanderer he is. I doubt he'll succumb to the marriage trap for quite some years."
"And Lucas? I spoke to him once, but only briefly."
"Luc is still the rogue he always was." He smiled and looked over Caleb's shoulder. "As to how he fares… why don't you ask him yourself?"
Caleb turned, recognized the tall man striding toward him, a faintly arrogant smile on his face.
Lucas Tanner, Viscount Halford, came to a halt at his side. "Greetings, little brother."
"Luc! I can't believe you are here."
Nash stepped away from them. "I think I'll leave you two siblings to get reacquainted. Good to see you, Halford."
"You, as well, Nash." Luc looked as lean and fit as he had that day at the auction, as tall as Caleb, his hair so dark a brown it looked black. He was somberly dressed, his preference, in a dove gray tailcoat, silver waistcoat, and snug black breeches.
"I have to admit, you're the last person I expected to see at Parklands," Caleb said, "though perhaps I shouldn't be surprised."
"Believe it or not, I was invited. Besides, I heard you and Sutton were here. Damn, it's good to have you home." Bright blue eyes ran over his scarlet tunic. "I see you're back in uniform. Far more appealing to the ladies, I imagine, than the clothing of a groom."
"It was necessary at the time."
"I gather you've finished your mission. I'd like to have been a fly on the wall when Miss Durant discovered your deception."
"I think she wanted to take a bat to my head."
Luc chuckled softly. "I heard the gossip. Something about catching a murderer, I believe."
Caleb glanced away. "More or less."
Luc cut him a look. Caleb had never been able to lie to his brother. Apparently, he wasn't any better at it now than he'd been when he was a boy.
"More or less?"
"That's what I said."
"All right, we'll leave it at that for now." Luc stopped a waiter, plucked a snifter of brandy off the tray. He took a sip, then followed Caleb's gaze to the petite, red-haired woman sweeping into the drawing room.
"Ah, the lady of the evening. She's quite something, isn't she?"
"Who?" Caleb took a casual sip of his brandy.
"Don't be irritating. You know very well who I'm talking about. I didn't recognize her that day at Tattersall's though I had seen her a few times before." His gaze shifted back to Vermillion. "There is something different about her even now. Ah, yes. She isn't wearing rice powder and paint, just a little rouge on her lips and cheeks. I daresay, she doesn't need anything at all. Gad, the girl's a beauty. I wouldn't mind tapping into a little of that myself."
Luc gave her a slow perusal. "In fact, if you don't mind, I think I'll—" He took a step, but Caleb blocked his way.
"Not on your life."
Luc grinned up at him, a dimple notching his cheek. "I had a feeling there was more going on here than the simple call of duty."
Caleb glanced at Vermillion. "It isn't what you think, Luc."
"Isn't it?"
"Not exactly."
"I don't suppose you'd care to elaborate."
"Let's just say, she isn't all she seems."
Luc drilled him with a glare that demanded an explanation and Caleb sighed in defeat. "I'm the only man who's touched her, Luc. And if I have my way, that's how it's going to stay."
His brother frowned. "I thought you were returning to Spain."
Caleb flicked a glance at the woman across the room. "That's the hell of it. I wish to God I'd never met her. Now that I have, I don't know what I'm going to do about it."
Luc didn't say anything more. Caleb watched Vermillion promenade the room on Colonel Wingate's arm and a spark of jealousy began to burn in his stomach.
Luc leaned toward him. "You may have been the only man who has touched her so far, but I wouldn't count on that exclusivity in the future."
Caleb set his brandy glass down on a Hepplewhite table. "Excuse me. There's something I need to do."
He ignored Luc's chuckle of mirth as he started across the drawing room, intent on hunting down his prey.
Lee spotted Caleb striding toward her, long legs eating up the distance between then, a black look on his face. God's teeth, he had said he needed her help. Now that she was trying to give it, why couldn't he just stay out of her way?
She smiled up at the colonel. "Perhaps we could continue our discussion on the terrace? It's getting a little stuffy in here."
The colonel's eyes heated up. She hoped she could keep him in line long enough to ferret out any information he might have.
"Splendid idea, my dear." He started guiding her toward the French doors leading outside just as Caleb walked up.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, Colonel, but I believe your aide, Lieutenant Oxley, is looking for you. It seems to be a matter of some importance."
"Thank you, Captain." He turned to Vermillion. "I'm terribly sorry, my dear, but duty calls."
She gave him a smile of regret. "I understand completely. Perhaps a little later… ?"
"Certainly, my dear." The colonel made a very proper bow. "I shall return to you the first instant I am able."
The moment Wingate turned away, Caleb gripped her arm and propelled her none too gently through the French doors out onto the terrace.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Hard dark eyes bored into her. "Or have you already forgotten that I am the man who spent a portion of last night in your bed?"
She planted her hands on her hips, her irritation beginning to build. "I haven't forgot anything—more's the pity. What I'm doing—as it appears you have already forgot—is trying to help you."
"Help me? You think throwing yourself at Wingate is helping me?"
A sudden suspicion hit her. "Oxley isn't looking for the colonel, is he? You just made that up."
A satisfied smile curved his lips. "Maybe the walk will cool his ardor."
Lee rolled her eyes. Men. "Wingate knows a lot about the war, Caleb. I'm trying to discover if his loyalties are not what they seem. You did ask for my help, whether you remember it or not."
"Not that kind of help, dammit."
"Can't you see? I know these men. I might uncover something useful."
"Forget it. In case you haven't figured it out, there is every chance your friend Mary Goodhouse wound up dead because of something she learned while she worked at Parklands. I don't want that happening to you."
"Good Lord—you think that's what happened? That Mary was killed because she knew something about the traitor? You think the traitor killed her?"
"Him or someone he hired. She was working here before she moved to the city. She could have overheard something she shouldn't have."