A stirring of unease filtered through Devon. Something wasn’t right. Still, he forced himself to leave the paper on the table though he longed to snatch it up and rip it in half. “If it’s a matter of honor, I’m certain my brother will answer it to your satisfaction. And he will no doubt be chagrined he missed your meeting.”

“I hope so,” Annesley said ruefully. He tucked the paper away. “Chase was a little upset when last I saw him.”

“I daresay he’d been drinking. Heavily. It seemed to become a habit with him once he began to converse with you.”

“Touché,” murmured Pound.

With a noticeable thinning of his mouth, Annesley patted the pocket where the note lay. “I only hope your brother isn’t gone too long, or I shall begin to wonder—”

“Annesley,” Devon said with deadly calm, “what will you wonder? Surely you are not maligning the St. John name.”

Silence filled the small area. Pound watched, an amused expression in his sharp gaze. Annesley seemed to be searching for words—though it was difficult to tell whether he wished to retract his statement or reassure Devon.

Devon turned away. “That will be all, Annesley. I’m certain that whenever my brother returns to town, you’ll get your funds.”

Annesley’s expression was a frozen grimace compared to the wide smile he’d once had. There was nothing left for it but to bow and make his way to the door.

Devon and Pound played in silence for several minutes. Though Devon’s mind was elsewhere, luck favored him and he won.

“Ah, the St. John luck returns.” Pound picked up his port. “What do you think of Annesley?”

“Who?”

Pound’s eyes shimmered with appreciation. “Annesley,” he repeated gently.

“I don’t think of him at all.”

“Hm. I wonder where your brother is? He has been a bit of a loss of late, hasn’t he?”

Devon didn’t answer.

“For the last six months—maybe longer—Chase St. John has not been acting like…well, a St. John.”

“My brother is fine. And he is as much a St. John as I.”

Pound wisely did not say a thing and they had soon resumed their game.

But Devon found that he could not pay attention, a strange sense of unrest flickering through him. Where was Chase? And what did his recent disappearance have to do with Harry Annesley?

Devon stifled a sigh. Over the last year, Chase had become something of an enigma, disappearing for days on end, usually in the company of an actress or some other equally unworthy female.

Except, of course, when he’d taken up with the Viscountess Westforth. That relationship had proven itself to be something different—a foray into true friendship—although no one had realized it until they’d sent Devon’s older brother, Brandon, to buy off the lady.

Something had happened in that meeting and a short time later, Brandon himself had married the woman. Devon thought about his sister-in-law, and smiled. Verena was as strong-willed and intelligent as they came, and she was every bit as in love with Brandon as he was with her. All told, the marriage promised to be as interesting as it would be lasting.