The duchess had been kind to Rachel. Rachel had smiled more during that visit than during any other part of their marriage. The duchess would most likely be kind to Everton as well.

Besides, he had dirt on the Duchess of Harrington’s daughter, a comforting fact. Everton smiled and rubbed his face. The silly chit had run away from home to become a maid and then had the audacity to fall in love with her employer.

Ridiculous story.

He sent his card to Nelson and had him see that it was delivered to the Harrington estate.

Three hours later, he was cleaned up, presentable, and standing outside the Duke of Harrington’s home. He tapped his foot on the pavement as the carriage waited directly behind him. He could easily get back in and go home. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head at his cowardice.

Plenty of people in London had friends they spoke to on sunny afternoons.

He had simply never seen the point of it.

After knocking, the butler ushered him into a drawing room. He didn’t seem impressed or surprised to find a baron at the door, which made sense since Her Grace’s late husband had been a duke and her son had since taken up the title. Everton stood as the door opened a moment later, only to be greeted not by the duchess, but by her son.

“Harrington,” Everton said with a short nod. Everton hadn’t seen Harrington since his impetuous younger sister’s wedding. He had looked much happier at the wedding. His brows hadn’t been so dangerously low then.

“Lord Bryant,” Harrington said, his back straight and eye disapproving. “May I ask the intent of your visit?”

A disapproving eye happened to be Everton’s favorite type of eye. Harrington’s mannerisms were more suited to a soldier than a stuffy nobleman. This visit might prove to be more entertaining than he thought. The troublesome thought of speaking to the duchess slid away, and he retreated into the much more comfortable role of agitator. Everton tipped his head to one side and gave the duke a half grin. “I’m here to see your mother.”

Harrington’s eyes narrowed. “What business have you with her?”

“Why, no business at all. Must a man have a reason to call on a delightful young widow?”

A muscle in the young duke’s cheek clenched. “Bryant, I hope you understand we appreciate your help with Patience last year, but we see no reason to be indebted to you.”

“No reason?”

“None. Patience would gladly tell anyone what happened. We aren’t trying to hide it.”

“That is interesting because I heard no rumors about her parading around as a maid. It seems to me someone must have hushed the whole business.”

If anything, the duke’s back straightened even farther. Of course Harrington would do anything to stifle any rumors about his frivolous sister. He must have spoken to everyone who had been privy to that knowledge. Everyone except Everton. He repressed a chuckle. It seemed as though the Duke of Harrington was either intimidated by Everton or, even more interestingly, trusted him.