She frowned. “You’re absolutely no fun, Wills.”
“Someone needs to be the voice of authority and common sense around here.” While he fully expected her to stamp her foot like she’d done as a girl, he nodded to his mother. “I’ll see you both later this evening.”
“Oh, William, before you go,” his mother called, her voice thin and riddled with exhaustion. It seemed the incident with the dog had tired her. “Have you called upon that nice young lady you met at the rout the other night?”
Devil take the lot of them.
“I have not, for my time has been promised to Bow Street.” How had Francesca fared since he’d seen her three days ago? It was rather disconcerting to realize time had passed so quickly and he’d already put her from his mind. Knots in his belly tightened. Had she made inroads into a relationship with Lord Wainwright in his absence? Damn it all to hell. If she had, it was William’s own fault. “I’ll call upon her soon though.”
“Good. I’m anxious to see if you two will suit. She was quite shy at the Christmastide house party, but I like her. And Isobel adores her.”
Isobel nodded. “Fanny is a good sort.”
Which didn’t bode well for their friendship. “Do not corrupt Miss Bancroft, Isobel. She doesn’t need your brand of trouble.”
“Buggar off, Wills.”
“Children, please.” His mother waved her handkerchief. “Have a good day, William.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
Once he escaped the townhouse, he drew in deep lungsful of crisp, winter air as he began the walk through Mayfair. Though he loved his mother and sisters dearly, they would soon drive him out of his mind. Plus, the gruesome case he worked currently had him stymied. There were no leads or evidence that pointed one way or the other, and he’d visited the crime scene twice since the murder. Nothing of import was discovered on either trip.
Honestly, the last thing he needed in his life was the addition of a courtship, yet Francesca had taken him by surprise the other night. Yes, she was shy and would most likely retire as a wallflower if given half the chance, but there’d been a spark about her when she talked of becoming a journalist. To say nothing of her tart-mouthed response when her mother had asked about her deciding between him and the viscount.
May the best man win.
Those words had circled through his head for the past three days. She hadn’t indicated a clear preference between the two of them, but damnation, he wanted to be declared the victor. None of that would happen unless he found the time to call on her. Why were there no absolutes in every aspect of his life currently? Why was everything so murky?
There were no answers, and he arrived at Hadleigh House sooner than he’d anticipated.
Minutes later, he waited in the lavish drawing room, awaiting the earl’s pleasure. When his cousin finally made an appearance, William bit back the sarcastic comment that jumped to the tip of his tongue. They’d made huge strides in friendship and mending the rift between their branches of the Storme family. It was good to have Andrew back in his life, even if it was a huge adjustment.
“How wonderful to see you, William.” Andrew’s presence filled the room. Though only one year older than him, the earl was an imposing force and had gone through his own storms to reach a level of personal contentment. As boys growing up and being so close in age, they’d looked much alike and were often mistaken as twins. They were almost the same in appearance now as grown men that it was remarkable. “What brings you here?”
“I’m in need of advice, actually.”
“Oh?” Andrew gestured to a chair and when William sat heavily upon it, his cousin did the same with another nearby. “Is all well with Aunt Patricia?”
“As far as I know.” It was odd, this learning how to rely on his cousin and ask for advice. “Mother’s condition declines in increments as the weeks go by. A few days ago, she implored me to seriously consider marriage, for she wants me settled before she leaves this world.”
“I can understand that.” He narrowed his eyes as worry creased his brow. “You don’t want marriage.” It wasn’t a question.
“Not in theory, though in recent years I’ve thought it might be nice to have someone at home waiting up for me when my cases run long.” William rubbed a hand along his jaw. Why the devil had he admitted to that, something he’d never told a soul? “However, to appease Mother, I did ask to pay my addresses to a woman the other night.”
“Oh?” One of his cousin’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Do I know her or her family?”
“It’s Miss Bancroft. She was in attendance at your Christmastide house party.” He shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “I saw her at a rout three days ago and renewed her acquaintance. At the time, it seemed like a good thing to do.”
“Isn’t she rather plain and has nothing to recommend her? The woman with the limp?”
William bristled. “She can’t help her injury.” He assumed, for he hadn’t a clue what had happened to her to cause it. One of his hands that rested in his lap curled into a fist. “Miss Bancroft isn’t plain.” How could anyone think that? Her eyes alone were enough to draw a man in. “I won’t deny she’s shy and rather retiring.” But there was a reason for that. Being constantly overlooked due to her limp had made her wary of people, men in particular. “However, there’s a snag.”
“She’s married?”
He snorted. “Hardly. Her father is slowly losing his mental faculties and wants her settled more sooner than later. So, her parents have shoved a Lord Wainwright into her path. He’s courting her as well.”
“Ah, competition.” The ghost of a grin took possession of Andrew’s mouth. “That rather makes for a sticky wicket.”