Patrick Entwhistle had been Rex’s first tutor…? Which was why he’d given that name to Eleanora to use if she needed to arrange an urgent meeting.

“Not here,” Rex said, taking the man by the arm. “Whatever you have to say, it can be said where we have more privacy.”

“I have nothing to say.” He shoved a note at Rex, folded and sealed. “You don’t put hands on Ned Wentworth no matter how many titles you have.”

The wording was general, as Rex had once told Eleanora it should be. The favor of an interview would be appreciated at Your Grace’s earliest convenience.

“Is Mr. Entwhistle well?” Rex asked, jamming his hat onto his head.

“Seems right enough to me, though I keep a safe distance from that personage. Lord Stephen said I wasn’t to cease looking until I found you though.”

“You’ve found me, and the requested meeting is convenient for me at this very moment.”

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

“If you’re besotted with Elsmore, you should tell him,” Lord Stephen said, leaning against Ellie’s doorjamb, cane in hand. “He’ll go mad thinking you don’t care for him, and while I am ignorant of the particulars, I know a smitten man when I see one.”

“Please do come in,” Ellie snapped. “Or lounge there at your lordship’s leisure, letting out all the warm air while you expound on topics that are none of your concern.”

His lordship lurched into the room, closing the door behind himself by virtue of shoving it with his cane.

“You come to my apartment,” he said, “demanding that I find you a discreet messenger not in Wentworth livery. You confide the purpose of the errand only to Ned’s discretion—the most dubious variety of discretion known to the realm—and then you whirl off, clearly on the verge of strong hysterics. Have a nip.”

He held out a silver flask embossed with the Wentworth crest.

“No, thank you. Taking spirits will solve nothing.”

“Strong hysterics solve nothing, but I’ve been known to indulge on many an occasion.” He waggled the flask, and Ellie took it mostly to forestall further lecturing.

“What the hell is wrong, madam? If Ned can’t find your pet duke, I might be able to help.”

Ellie opened the flask and took a sniff. The brandy had an excellent nose, but it wasn’t the same as the spirits she’d taken with Elsmore. Even so, the scent brought back memories of snuggling before a wood fire, a country house gone quiet in evening darkness, and a contentment as precious as it was temporary.

“You cannot help, my lord. On second thought, you can, by taking yourself off and forgetting that I prevailed upon Ned to deliver a message. Forget that immediately and entirely.”