Although it would be inappropriate, he could write her a note. It had been a long time since he had allowed propriety to hinder him from getting what he wanted. Not that his lack of decorum would make a difference—even if he sent one, the note would never reach her.

He punched the side of his thigh hard enough that he was certain to see a bruise tomorrow. The whole of Great Britain’s Society should rot with the devil for selling its quiet daughters to the highest bidder.

A carriage pulled to a stop in front of Lord Falburton’s home. A carriage he recognized.

“Stay here,” he told his footman.

A moment later, he was standing to the left of the Falburtons’ stairs as Mrs. Cuthbert knocked on the door. The butler opened the door, took her card, and motioned for her to come in. Lord Bryant took the stairs two at a time until he was standing just behind Mrs. Cuthbert.

“Lord and Lady Falburton have returned, have they?”

Mrs. Cuthbert turned in a startled jump and screeched in surprise, sounding not unlike a barn owl.

Everton stifled a laugh. After an hour of grinding his teeth, frightening Mrs. Cuthbert—who, in all fairness, was the one who started this mess—made his jaw relax, at least for a moment.

“Lord Bryant, I didn’t see you there.” Her eyes widened farther. “What has happened to your face?”

Lord Bryant had nearly forgotten his scuffle with Mr. Barton. “It is nothing. I’m sorry. I do tend to sneak up on people when they are least expecting it, don’t I?” This question he posed to the butler, who was gulping air as if he couldn’t get enough of it. Despicable. Nelson would never act in such a way, and he had dealt with much more unpleasant business than an unwanted baron at his doorstep. “Now, where is Falburton receiving guests?”

Mrs. Cuthbert stepped forward. “He was just showing me to the drawing room before you pounced on us.”

“Then to the drawing room we shall go.” Everton gave the butler a devilish grin. The man had no recourse now that Everton knew the marquess was at home. If he hadn’t so blatantly lied to him less than an hour ago, Everton would feel almost apologetic.

As it was, the man could gulp all he wanted. He would get no sympathy from Everton. A few more hard swallows, and a furtive glance to the door he suspected was the drawing room, and the butler finally succumbed to the truth he should have known an hour ago.

If the Baron Bryant wanted entrance to a home, he gained it.

Mrs. Cuthbert shot an elbow into his side as they followed the sweating butler. She bent her head in his direction. “You didn’t have to come. I’m the better candidate to find out what is going on.”

The two men in the drawing room—Lord Falburton and Lord Silverstone—stood as soon as Everton and Mrs. Cuthbert were admitted to the room. Lady Falburton sputtered, then covered her mouth with a handkerchief. Lord Falburton’s face turned a deep purple, all while Lord Silverstone looked between them, confusion apparent on his middle-aged face. Lady Emily was not there. Blast Lord and Lady Falburton for betrothing their daughter, then not even allowing her out of her room. All the while, her lecherous fiancé plotted her future with them.