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Lloyd had one question about Winchester’s collection. If he was a true collector, why would he have all the early ones, but hardly any of the later ones? A Duke was unlikely to be lacking in funds to purchase the newer Hobarts, even though they’d gone up significantly in price, was he? Or maybe Winchester was one of those estates run on bare bones with expenses far outstripping the income from the lands.

“Perhaps we need to find Hobart and check his records against Sotheby’s?” Mr Milson asked.

“Are you implying that you don’t know who Hobart was?” Lloyd knew the world of horology was small; everyone knew everyone, and yet he didn’t know who Hobart was. Odd. He should’ve had realised before today that it was unusual for a prominent watchmaker to be unknown as an individual in the horology community.

“No. It adds to the mystique around the watches, don’t you think?” Milson’s comment was illogical and surprising, since he’d always been quite sensible to deal with until now.

“Have you ever tried to find out?”

Milson nodded. “Of course. But they were delivered to Sotheby’s every year through a different agent, usually jewellers.”

“How about the two of you figure this out?” Nobbie stood up and grabbed his watch off Milson’s desk. “I need to get ready for the Harrington’s soiree tonight.” He left before Lloyd had a chance to react to the sudden change.

“Your friend is interesting.” Milson said.

Lloyd’s face heated. “He’s not a friend. He’s—” He wasn’t sure actually. They hadn’t discussed it and it wasn’t something to be discussed in polite company. He certainly didn’t want his ... inconclusive attraction to men and women to become common knowledge. It would risk his standing and his ability to negotiate on behalf of the Lechti family. His uncle, his mother’s brother, ran the business in Switzerland now, although Napoleon’s rampage through Europe made travel difficult and messages were often disrupted. The Lechti family had declined to send any watches to England for several years now as it was impossible to guarantee their security during transportation.

“He’s what exactly?” Milson asked.

Lloyd blinked. He remembered that he didn’t need to answer the question directly; it was one of the things about society that irritated him but was occasionally useful. “I met him a few nights ago at the Hedwick soiree, and noticed his watch.”

“Let me guess. You harassed him until he let you examine it properly.”

If by harassed, Milson meant that Lloyd had knelt for Mr Gilbert—twice—then yes. His blush must be glowing as his face overheated. The benefit of having an Indian grandmother meant that his tanned skin didn’t blush as readily as a pale English rose, but it was still obvious to anyone who knew him.

“I take it your flushed complexion means yes?”

“Yes. Hedwick invited me to the soiree on the premise that he had a Vulliamy & Sons grandfather clock that he wanted valued, but of course, he introduced me to his daughter, and we never did examine the clock.”

“My lord. Were you distracted by the daughter or the Hobart?”

Lloyd let out a shaky breath. “The watch, naturally. I fear I was a little rude to Lord Hedwick and his daughter in my desire to discover more about the watch. I’d never seen a Hobart in real life.”

“A worthy chase, my lord.”

He glanced up to discover Mr Milson grinning and he smiled back. “Yes. I hate to think what Mr Gilbert's first impression of me was. He wasn’t very receptive to my persistence.”

“I fear that our enthusiasm also scared him off today.”

Lloyd sighed. He had taken Nobbie at his word that he needed to dress for a social event tonight, but the chances were that Lloyd had not noticed some subtle hint and Mr Milson was likely correct.

“Do you think so?”

Milson drummed his fingers on the desk. “Yes.”

“How do you know?” Lloyd really ought to give up on attempting to unravel the mystery of how other people managed to convey information without blunt speaking.

“As soon as we started to discuss finding out who Hobart might be, he made a flimsy excuse and left. I wonder if we got a little close to the truth?”

Lloyd gasped. “Do you think he knows who Hobart is?”

“It’s not unlikely if he has the only Hobart that has no provenance and then he left as soon as we began to discuss the possibility.” Milson leaned forward on his elbows. “I have always wanted to solve this mystery. My bosses think it is a waste of time. We were paid for the cataloguing and the current Duke of Winchester decided against selling the collection, so it was a dead end according to Sotheby’s.”

“I suppose I could attend this soiree tonight and ask him.” Lloyd didn’t want to go out in society again so soon. Twice a week would likely get his name implied in the newssheets as wanting a wife or some such nonsense. He told himself it was purely about the watch, and nothing to do with needing to see Nobbie again.

“And I shall ask permission to visit the Duke of Winchester to see if I can discover more. It has been several years, and maybe some new information has come to light since then.”

Lloyd breathed in rapidly. “Oh, it’s the season. His Grace will be in town, so you will not have to travel far.”

“I will pay him a visit in the morning, or...” Milson paused and Lloyd stared at him wondering what he was implying.

“Or?”

“Do you think he’ll be at tonight’s soiree? If I came as your guest, then you’d be free to talk to Mr Gilbert about Hobart, and you could introduce me to His Grace?”

Lloyd nodded as it would be good to have a friend help him navigate society, especially all the things people said when they were saying something else. “Yes, that is a sensible plan. But haven’t you met Winchester previously?”

“As a young clerk employed by Sotheby’s. I will likely achieve more if I was introduced in society as a colleague of yours, my lord.”

Lloyd hated that he needed this pointed out to him. He always missed these social cues, and even though he’d spent years memorising all the rules of society—rules he was grateful existed—he still needed the reminders. “Yes. Yes, of course. You should come as my guest.”

“Excellent. Should I come to your rooms when I have finished work and we can travel together?”

“Yes.” Lloyd ignored the ache in his chest telling him he’d missed something important. He often felt like that, but at least it wasn’t going to be a lack of invitation. He had a stack of invitations to every event held among the ton, and his Secretary, Mr Jadeja, was always inquiring if he would be attending any of them. Lloyd gave Mr Milson his direction, then said his farewells before heading home. Apparently he was going to socialise tonight, and he needed to take a nap and a bath to prepare himself for the effort. If he wanted to figure out who Hobart was, he’d need to get through a lot of boring pointless social chit chat first. Why couldn’t people just get to the point of things?