Devon wasn’t afraid of those storms…but Marcus’s force of character, that was something to be reckoned with. “Annesley seemed very determined that everyone at White’s see that blasted note. He waved it like a bloody flag. I found that highly unusual. He also seemed determined to place the idea in everyone’s head that Chase had fled town because of that debt.”

Anthony made a disgusted sound. “Whatever Chase may be, he would never flee a debt of honor.”

Marcus nodded. “He is stiff with pride, that one.”

“Not to mention,” Devon said quietly, “that if Chase needed money, he had only to apply to one of us for the funds. He knows any one of us could have stood the nonsense.”

Marcus absently flipped the edge of a letter between his finger and thumb. “This does sound odd.” His gaze flickered to Devon. “What do you think has happened?”

“I believe the note is a forgery. But with Chase gone, there is no way to verify that—” Devon halted, a thought he hadn’t allowed himself to think beginning to form.

Anthony’s brown eyes glittered. “You believe Annesley has something to do with Chase’s disappearance.”

“Perhaps. I’ve put Annesley off, which has irritated him. I expect he will have to make some other move, and soon. Since I’ve proven recalcitrant, I expect he will next come here.”

Anthony’s brow creased. “You’re right, of course. Something’s not—”

The door opened and Jeffries stood in the opening. He bowed to Marcus. “My lord, pardon me. But there’s a Mr. Harry Annesley to see you. I told him you were busy, but he has been most insistent.”

Marcus and Devon exchanged a look. “Well,” Marcus said softly. “The plot thickens.”

Devon nodded. It had indeed.

The door to Chase’s room slammed open, the sound echoing sharply in Chase’s sleep-filled head. He moaned and pulled his pillow over his head. “Go away, Stephen. It’s too early to talk any more—”

“It’s still evening,” Harriet said. “Lady Cabot-Wells just departed.”

Chase reluctantly moved the pillow so that it didn’t cover his mouth. “She was a bossy old harridan.”

“You charmed her very well. Mother and Sophia believe you should tread the boards if you ever find yourself at point-non-plus.”

“Sorry I didn’t stay long. I was so sleepy after the bath that I could barely keep my eyes open during dinner.”

“I daresay you were very tired, considering how busy you’ve been this evening. You and I need to speak, Mr. St. John.”

The tones were frosty. Chase lifted the corner of the pillow and took a good look at the woman who had just been in his dreams.

Of course, in his dreams Harriet was not glaring at him in such a way. She was usually soft and pliant, welcoming him with open arms as she told him how she thought he was the smartest, bravest, most handsome man she’d ever met.

It was quite obvious no such words were going to escape her lips this evening. Chase sighed, pushed his pillow aside, and shoved himself into a seated position. “What is it now—”