“Thank you.” Tilton came to stand beside Devon’s chair, standing a precise two feet from the arm. “Sir, I still have not located the talisman ring.”

“Blast!” Yet another thing to add to his list of things to think about that he’d rather not.

“Indeed, sir. I took the chamber apart but other than discovering a ruby cravat pin that most definitely was not yours, I found nothing.”

Devon scowled. He’d been certain Tipton would find that damned ring, so certain that he hadn’t really bothered to think about it. Now, though…Devon rubbed a hand over his face, wondering what he should do next.

He remembered seeing the ring on Mother’s hand, the light catching the carvings whenever she moved. It was the one thing that was uniquely hers. He suddenly realized how much the ring meant, not just to him, but to his brothers and sister. “Damn, damn, damn. We have to find it.”

“Yes, sir. I shall continue to make discreet inquiries among the servants, though so far, no one seems to know a thing.”

“The hell with discreet. Offer a reward. I have to find that bloody thing before next week.” When he would leave.

The thought depressed him, a feeling he resolutely repressed. “I will ask Lord Strathmore about it.”

“Yes, sir.” Tipton eyed Devon’s wet riding habit. “You will be changing prior to visiting His Lordship, I presume?”

“No. I want to see him now.”

“But you’re wet.”

“I won’t sit on any of his good chairs. Only the old ones that appear ready to fall apart.”

“How fortunate for the good chairs,” Tipton said, eyeing him severely.

Devon hefted himself from his seat, glad to have something to do other than mope about. “And how unfortunate for my arse; most of the bad chairs have fallen springs. I daresay I will be sorry I did not heed your advice and change my clothing.”

“You always are sorry for ignoring my suggestions, and yet you are never slow in disregarding them.”

Grinning, Devon left the room in search of Malcolm. He found him standing outside the sitting room, loitering in the hallway as if listening to the murmured conversation inside.

Malcolm gestured for him to be quiet.

“What are you doing?” Devon asked.

“They are discussing the ball. I want to know who they are inviting.”

“Oh. May I ask why?”

“Because it’s all a plot. I know it is. I just cannot discover what their intentions are.”

It was interesting how a perfectly sane man could become insane once he married. Keeping his voice low, Devon said, “Malcolm, I have lost something.”

“Oh? What?”

“The talisman ring.”

“The talisman ri—” Malcolm snapped his mouth closed. Silence issued from the room inside for a moment, and then the murmured conversation continued.

Malcolm grabbed Devon’s elbow and dragged him around the corner. “Good God, when did that happen?”