As they alighted from the carriage, another pulled up in front of the town house and a spritely man in dark clothes wearing a vicar’s collar emerged.

As they walked across the street, the vicar took notice of them. “Good afternoon. Are you here for the wedding?” he asked with a cheery smile.

Wedding?

Alec stopped dead in his tracks and his hands immediately tightened into fists.

“Steady now,” Rafe murmured as he stepped forward to greet the vicar. “Yes. We are cousins of the bride.”

“Oh, how wonderful! I must admit, the summons I received yesterday made this all seem very mysterious. I felt a bit like the priest in Romeo and Juliet. Hopefully this wedding has a happier ending!” He laughed at his own terrible joke. “It’s always preferable to have at least some family in attendance.”

“Our dear cousin doesn’t know,” Rafe explained. “It’s meant to be a surprise, you see.”

“Ah! Even better! Well, you should come round the back with me, then. Those were my instructions.”

Rafe and Alec exchanged a subtle look. “That sounds perfect,” Rafe said, then flashed that easy smile that always got him exactly what he wanted. As the vicar led the way to the back entrance, Rafe gave Alec a spirited wink.

But as they stepped onto the grounds, Alec’s heart leapt to his throat. Whatever happened next wouldn’t be so easy.

“I suppose our uncle gave the staff the day off,” Rafe offered as they made their way to the servants’ entrance. There was still no sign of anyone about.

The vicar nodded. “I was told that discretion was of the utmost importance.” Then he turned to Alec. “Sir Alfred is quite an important man, I take it?”

Alec gave a noncommittal grunt in reply. He was busy studying the third floor. Lottie’s bedroom window was slightly open. An image of her standing before a mirror in a wedding gown flashed across his mind, and he dug his nails into the skin of his palm.

“My cousin is a man of few words.” Rafe gave the vicar an apologetic smile. “But yes, our uncle is important.”

“I see.” The vicar’s lips pursed and he turned back to Rafe. “Do you like the chap your cousin is marrying? A Mister…Wertherby? Have I got that right?”

“Wetherby?” Alec roared.

Rafe clapped a hand on the vicar’s shoulder to shield him from Alec’s furious glare. “Terribly sorry. He has very strong feelings about pronunciation. English teachers,” he added, rolling his eyes in commiseration. “You know how fastidious they can be.”

The vicar cast Alec a disapproving frown. “Yes, I do.”

A minute later they reached the back entrance. “I was told to go right in and up the stairs,” the vicar explained as he pushed open the back door that led to the kitchens.

Alec tugged on Rafe’s arm. “Wetherby is Sir Alfred’s bloody secretary,” he hissed.