“Handsomeness?” put in Ivy.
“You cannot say that about our enemy!” Lily declared.
And Clem did not want to think about his looks, handsome or otherwise. It was far easier to see him as the very devil. Dark eyes, dark hair, shoulders that filled a room. A sharp jaw that had been scattered with a little stubble as though he had not had time to shave that morning… She shook away images of soap being smoothed along that jaw as her chest began to feel oddly warm.
“Heisthe enemy,” Clem concurred. “He does not believe his aunt and does not want me looking into the matter.”
“I still think this is a terrible idea.” Ivy’s brow furrowed as she concentrated on twining the next strand of straw into her hat. “What do we know about investigating?”
“Cousin Chastity asked for our help and—” Lily paused, spying a stain upon her sleeve, and vigorously rubbed at the spot.
“And we should aid them,” Clem continued for her sister. “After all, from what I hear, they have solved a great many problems, including hunting down some vicious criminals. Why would we not want to help? What if we could catch our own criminals?”
Ivy nodded. “I rather like the idea of showing a criminal a thing or two about justice.”
Violet rolled her eyes and giggled. “Good Lord, who do you think you are? The high sheriff?”
“I highly doubt there’s anything criminal involved in this matter.” Lily huffed and glared at the stubborn stain before meeting Clem’s gaze. “But an old woman needs help and Clem could do with something new to do.”
“It’s true,” Violet agreed. “You have been at quite a loose end this month now that you’ve finished with the lyre.”
“I’m going to get to the bottom of this,” Clem vowed. “And I’ll prove that horrible marquis wrong in the process too.” She smiled at her sisters. “It will be immensely satisfying.”
∞∞∞
“Damned town,” Roman muttered under this breath.
Yet another group of women blocked the pavement, a cluster of giggles, frothy skirts, and umbrellas. He moved swiftly around them, narrowly avoiding a man on horseback who slowed to leer at the women.
It wasn’t so much the people that bothered him but the pace. At least in London, everyone knew their purpose whether it was to get to a gentleman’s club or their place of employment. No one dallied. Even before the start of the Season, peoplelingeredin Bath.
He couldn’t standlingering.
Roman eased out a long breath when he entered the offices of Sir Marmaduke Cameron—or Duke, as he was better known. The man might not have Roman’s title but one day he would come into wealth that might as well make him a duke. Thankfully, for now, he was earning his own way as Roman’s solicitor. Duke might be a rake with enough inheritance in the wings to make the Prince Regent envious, but he was also a damned fine solicitor.
With any luck, Duke would get this whole mess with Aunt Mary sorted and Roman could get back to his plans of heading to London and getting on with wedding arrangements to the perfect wife.
He closed the door to the noise from the streets and allowed the tension to ease from his shoulders.
“Well you look as energized as I feel.”
Roman whipped around to find Duke in the doorway to his office. Cravat loose around his shoulders and his brown hair mussed, Duke did indeed look as weary as Roman felt. Roman eyed him with a lifted brow. “I imagine your exhaustion is more to do with how much you drank last night.”
Duke flashed a grin. “More to do with how little I slept last night, though I cannot deny a dash of brandy was involved.”
Roman waved a hand. He’d witnessed a great many of Duke’s exploits when they’d come up together at Eton, and simply being an observer to his debauchery was enough to make Roman feel as though he’d experienced a rather sordid education himself.
But bedding hundreds of women and waking up with a dry tongue and a headache never appealed to him. Well, at least he did not think it did. As fun as Duke made it look, Roman had too much to prove and no time for such exploits, even now. Especially now.
“It’s a good job you’re a fine solicitor.”
“It’s a good job you are my only client today, Rochdale,” Duke countered. He waved Roman into the office and dropped into the seat behind the desk.
How one of the cleverest men Roman knew worked under piles of papers and books, he did not know.
He eyed the half-finished glass of liquor sitting upon the desk.
Duke straightened and shoved the glass to one side. “It helps me think.”