I closed down my computer as I always did just in case Noel got the urge to snoop and somehow made it past my elaborate security system, and then swiveled out of my chair.
“I’ll go to her, but don’t expect me to rejoice over the union,” I told my father blandly as I did up my suit jacket button. “If she’s anything like other British ladies, she’ll be a boring shag.”
Noel laughed, clapping me on the back as I moved by him as if we were old boys drinking scotch in London gentlemen’s club. “That’s what slaves are for, my lad.”
I fought the urge to shrug off the weight of his hand on my shoulder and moved through the door without acknowledging his comment.
“Proud of you, son,” he said, just loudly enough for me to hear it down the hall.
Once upon a time, a very long time ago, those words would have been more precious than gold.
Now, the only thing more precious than gold to me was an Italian woman by the name of Cosima who had enchanted me as surely as Circe the sorceress.
Riddick fell into step behind me at some point down the long hallway that cut straight through the center of the house like a spine. He stayed closed to me now, closer than before. I wasn’t certain if it was because I’d never trusted him with my secrets before the disappearance of my wife and he felt further moved to guard me now that I’d acknowledged our friendship, or if it was because we’d entered a new, even darker and more dangerous world since then, and he knew vigilance at all times was paramount to getting out of this crux alive.
Either way, he escorted me to the antechamber where Agatha awaited behind a closed white and gold door.
“What do we know about her?” I asked as I stared at the intricate gold leaf work that scrolled over the door like vines. I knew enough already, but Riddick was the font of my information, the well other informants poured their buckets full of secrets into.
“Not much, milord. She is a society queen, but she has few hobbies other than horse riding and visiting a sickly aunt across the pond at least three times a year for extended holidays.”
“An aunt?” The information rang false. Agatha Howard was known as an ice princess. I very much doubted she had an uncharacteristic soft spot for some elderly relationship she couldn’t have known very well given the distance between them. “Look into that, will you, Rid?”
“Yes, milord.”
I shot him a look over my shoulder and raised a brow. “Do I look presentable enough to approach a potential bride?”
Riddick’s impenetrable expression cracked with the twitch of his lips into a brief grin. “Polygamy suits you well.”
I chuckled softly, letting the small reassurance of intimacy scour through me. It was too infrequent these days, Riddick my only true comfort. A sad thing for a man nearing forty to realize he has very little in the way of friends.
Then I thought of James, the prime minister helping me to corral and take down the Order, and I smiled.
Few friends, I decided, but important ones.
Noel had already committed multiple felonies with my money and support. He didn’t know what was coming for him, but I did.
Personally, I thought Noel would look just fucking dandy in prison orange.
I pushed open the door, prepared to deal with a vapid, bored aristocrat I would easily temper and eventually ignore.
Instead, I was greeted with an Agatha Howard I had never seen before.
She paced the room like a caged beast in grey cords and a black velvet blazer that wonderfully showcased her slim, long form. Her hair tossed madly over her shoulder in a riot of blond curls as she spun to face me, her nostrils flared, her hands clenched at her sides, and when she opened her mouth it was to deliver words like a series of hard blows.
“Listen to me and listen well, Lord Thornton. I absolutely, unequivocally will not marry you. If you can’t stomach the reject, tough cookies. I’m in love with someone else, and I won’t be sold like cattle for the better financial interests of my family. Now, you have a choice. You can either help me get out of this snit, or you can pressure me into it and face the consequences.”
I fought the urge to grin. Her ferocity reminded me so much of Cosima I felt her absence pulse in my chest like a second heart, a broken one with an out of tune beat.
“Dare I ask how you might enact these consequences on a lord of the realm? One who happens to yield as much power and even more wealth than your own family?”
She snarled at my cool tone and the blasé way I undid my suit jacket and took a seat in one of the darned uncomfortable 18th century chairs imported from France. There was so much hatred in her eyes that I nearly lost the urge to laugh.