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A headache was building between Theodore’s temples, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. The brandy was not helping, but he swigged it back anyway.

He had slept poorly last night and had been greeted by piles of work in his study, things that had accumulated over the past week, when he’d been occupied with looking for Henry and planning his wedding.

Wherehadthe wretched boy gone? He’d taken a good deal of his money, so there was no worry about him starving in the streets, but that was quite beside the point. The whole of Society was talking about his disappearance, to say nothing of his jilting his unfortunate bride.

Theodore’s marriage to the said bride had, of course, clawed back some of their respectability there, but the question remained: wherewasLord Henry Stanley?

“So am I to believe there’s nothing?” Theodore repeated after a long pause. “All those eyes and ears of yours, and none of them can catch a whisper of gossip about the whereabouts of one young man?”

Stephen did not seem offended, although he eyed his friend over his glass with glittering eyes. “Careful, Theodore. I don’t take kindly to harsh words. I’m doing my best, and so are my informants. This isn’t gossip, you know. It’s a properinvestigation, and whether you believe he’s capable of it or not, your brother has covered his tracks well.”

There was more silence after that.

Stephen eyed Theodore for a long time, then let out a long sigh, setting aside his glass and leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

“There’s something you aren’t telling me. Come on, man. Out with it.”

“Stephen…”

“No, I mean it. How can I help you if you won’t tell me everything?”

Theodore rolled back his shoulders. “Fine, fine. Well, I told you that we hadn’t had any correspondence from Henry, didn’t I? Beyond the note he sent to his poor bride-to-be at the church. That was not true, although I did not know it at the time.”

“Hehascommunicated?”

Theodore nodded. “He sent a letter. Not to me, I might add. To Anna. To my wife.”

That had gotten the other man’s attention.

Stephen’s cold eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. “I see. Well, that’s unusual.”

Theodore sighed again. The day was wearing on, and Clara’s Heart was filling up slowly but surely. In another hour or two, it would be packed to the rafters, full of laughing, hiccuping drunks filling the place with noise and heat. Theodore generally preferred to leave before then if he could.

“I suppose I’d better tell you the whole story.”

Stephen leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. “I suppose you’d better.”

As quickly and bluntly as he could, removing the moreuntowarddetails, Theodore recounted the events of the previous night. To his own shock, he felt anger well in his chest when he described how the letter had fallen out of Anna’s sleeve, of all places, and how she’d scrambled to snatch it up, as if it were precious to her.

Stephen listened to it all with his usual impassive expression, never reacting in any way. It was one of the reasons why Theodore appreciated his friend so much—he could keep a cool head, listen evenly, and offer good, measured advice.

Of course, if one wanted an emotional reaction, one would be disappointed, but Theodore did not. That was one of the reasons why their friendship was so valuable and had lasted for quite so long. Generally speaking, Duke Blackheart wore through his friends at an alarming rate.

“I see,” Stephen said neutrally when Theodore finished recounting the story. “Why don’t you tell me what you suspect, and I shall listen some more.”

It was a typical Stephen answer. He was never forthright when one wanted him to be.

“I believe she was fond of my brother,” Theodore answered grimly. “I think perhaps she was in love with him. If he knew that, I know he would be softhearted enough to send her a letter. And why else would she keep it safe in that way if she was not in love with him? A woman in that position might be expected to be angry, hurt, and eager for revenge. From what I know of my new wife, she’s no shrinking violet. I cannot understand why she is not angry with him.”

“You sound impressed.”

Theodore blinked. “Well, I am. She’s a fearsome young woman, and that is exactly what I want in a duchess.”

“In the duchess that you do not intend to talk to or spend any time with?” Stephen prompted, and Theodore scowled.

“Yes, that duchess. You know why this worries me, Stephen. Don’t make light of it. I was taken for a fool once before, and I never will again.”

Stephen considered this for a moment. “You mean Isabella?”