That he would have to do this on his own made it even more unpleasant. If only he had a compatriot to help him steer this particular course.

“I need to see him immediately.” Both men turned at the sound of a woman’s voice, a voice that spoke in a peremptory commanding tone, speaking at the front door.

“Excuse me, my lord,” the butler said, walking swiftly toward where a footman was trying to hold back the woman.

“He is here, isn’t he?” Griffith saw the top of a hat, and then a pair of wide, dark eyes peering at him over the footman’s arm. “There you are. Lord Viscount Captain. I need to speak with you.”

Griffith walked toward her, recognizing the lady from the day before. Stubborn little thing. “You’d better let her in,” he said. “She might have a hat pin on her.”

The butler turned to Griffith, a questioning look on his face.

“Never mind that,” Griffith said quickly. “Just show her into one of the rooms and bring us tea.” He wished he could ask for something stronger, but he didn’t want to perturb the butler more than the man likely already was.

“Of course, my lord.” The butler gestured for the woman to enter, then led the way down a side hallway and opened a small room that appeared to have been a lady’s receiving area. Was Frederick married? There was so much he didn’t know about his family anymore. But apparently was about to learn.

“Thank you,” the woman said, raising her nose as she entered the room. A timorous maid followed, only to start at the woman’s next words. “I’ll speak with the viscount alone, Becky. You may sit and wait for me in the hall.”

The maid glanced from her mistress to Griffith and back again, a clear look of terror on her face. Because of Griffith’s size or her mistress’s cavalier regard for her own reputation, Griffith couldn’t tell.

“She’ll be fine,” Griffith said to the maid as he stepped into the room, closing the door behind them.

He turned to the lady, who was, as he’d seen the day before, remarkably pretty. What drew his attention immediately was her mouth—her lips were lush and full, with an enticing curve—not to mention that mole—that almost made him step forward and kiss her.

He would have, if this were yesterday and he was still merely Captain Davies. Even with the threat of a hat pin.

But now he wouldn’t presume. He already hated being a gentleman.

“You know who I am, my lady,” Griffith said. “Perhaps you can introduce yourself? And explain why you require my assistance so urgently?”

She spoke in a stiff tone of voice. “I am Lady Della Howlett.”