"That's correct," Dunbridge confirmed.
"What do you know about him?" Jarrod asked.
"What do you mean what do I know about him?" Dunbridge answered Jarrod's question with a question.
"I mean, what do you know about him? You chose him for some reason. What do you know about him? What sort of man is he?" Jarrod demanded.
"He's a devoted man of the cloth."
Jarrod gave an exaggerated sigh. "That's a relief."
"How so?" Dunbridge demanded.
Jarrod smiled. "I heard he was looking for a governess."
Dunbridge shrugged his shoulders. "That's to be expected. After all, Reverend Tinsley is a family man with a wife and three children. Two boys and a girl, I believe."
"Two girls and a boy," Jarrod corrected. "Polly, Pippa, and Paul. Ages seven, five, and three."
"You've already made their acquaintance." Dunbridge widened his eyes in surprise. "Have you a candidate I may present as governess to Reverend Tinsley's family?"
"No, I have not," Jarrod answered. "I simply wanted to know the manner of the man before I inquired about available governesses on his behalf."
"Then you're extremely well informed," Dunbridge remarked, "for Reverend Tinsley and his family only just arrived."
"Oh?" Jarrod lifted his eyebrow. "I was given to understand that the reverend and his family have already settled into the rectory and that he had already been inducted to the living."
Lord Dunbridge inclined his head. "Once again, I commend your sources, Lord Shepherdston, on the accuracy of their information." He smiled thinly at Jarrod. "There doesn't appear to be a thing that I can tell you that you don't already know."
"You might try telling me what's become of the former residents of the rectory," Jarrod suggested. "Reverend Eckersley was a dear friend and teacher and I would like to know what's become of his daughter and his sister-in-law."
Lord Dunbridge smirked. "Didn't your sources tell you? Congratulations are in order. Miss Eckersley is engaged to be married."
"To whom?" Jarrod fought to veil his hostility.
"To me, of course!" Dunbridge exclaimed.
Jarrod half-expected Dunbridge to thump his chest like a male gorilla displaying dominance or hop onto the table and crow like a bantam rooster or flaunt his magnificent plumage like a male peacock.
"She and Lady Dunbridge — my aunt by marriage — are making their home with me at my town house." Dunbridge leaned closer to Jarrod and giggled like a schoolgirl as he confided, "I'll wager your sources didn't mention a word about that."
"No," Jarrod agreed, "they didn't." Nor did they mention Dunbridge's fantastic imagination or his ability to switch from hostile adversary to girlish confidant in the space of a heartbeat.
"Oh, it's all quite proper," the viscount confided. "After all, she is my betrothed and Lady Dunbridge is there to chaperone — at least until we're wed."
"And then?"
"I'll pension Aunt Henrietta off and into a home of her own. Can't have the relations butting in on the honeymoon or telling us how to five our lives."
"Quite right," Jarrod said. "So, when's the happy day?"
"At the end of the season."
"The end of the season?" Jarrod gritted his teeth. "Why not the beginning? What's the delay?"
"She's in mourning for her father," Dunbridge replied. "And Brummell declared that a society wedding of the magnitude of my wedding to Miss Eckersley simply couldn't take place before six months had passed."
"You consulted with Brummell about the wedding?" Jarrod was stunned by the extent of the viscount's fantasy.