For the first time since Dare had met him, Batsfoam hesitated to speak. “Lady Charlotte is at Britton House, sir.”

Britton House? Weston’s house? Although Dare no longer held Noble accountable for his mistress’s death—indeed, his eyes had been sadly opened to the truth behind the late Lady Weston and her cruelties, not the least of which was using him to cast blame onto Noble—he had as little to do with Weston and his charming, if eccentric, wife as was possible. “Why is she at Weston’s house? What did she tell you she was doing there?”

Batsfoam didn’t flinch at the bellow, although he was willing to wager a sovereign that he’d be slightly deaf for a week because of it. “I was given to understand that Lady Charlotte sought recourse to the Earl of Weston’s staff for an unspecified undertaking, the staff here being, as the Lady Charlotte herself said, a bit overburdened.”

“Undertaking? What sort of an undertaking would she have for Weston’s servants?” Dare knew shouting at Batsfoam wasn’t justified, but the thought of Charlotte running to Weston—by means of his servants—when she wanted help made him see red. Dammit, he was her husband! If she wanted help, she could bloody well turn to him for it. Didn’t she understand how the husband-wife relationship worked?

“As I do not have at hand a dictionary, I shall be forced to rely upon my own interpretation of the English language; in this case, the word unspecified is commonly given to mean…” The glare Dare turned on him caused the smart retort to wither on Batsfoam’s lips. He cleared his throat and respectfully dropped his gaze to the boots in his hands. “She did not say.”

Dare’s nostrils flared for a moment as if he smelled something foul. Then he snatched up his hat and stormed out of the bedchamber. “I see I’m going to have to inform my wife of a few definitions of my own—marriage, loyalty, and help being three of them. Have Jupiter brought around immediately, Batsfoam. Send one of the footman for him, it will be faster.”

Dare waited in the library, his riding crop beating out a tattoo on his leg as he tried to conceive of what would send Charlotte to Weston’s servants. Ultimately, the realization that no matter how long he was married to her, he’d never understand the way her mind worked calmed him enough that he didn’t take out his temper on Batsfoam when he announced that the horse was waiting.

Weston lived in a fashionable part of town, something Dare had never given a thought to until he rode the distance from his own modest leased abode in a rather overcrowded section of town to the wide streets and cream-marbled splendor of Britton House. He was suddenly uncomfortably aware of the differences between the circumstances of Charlotte’s life before marrying him and the present. Regret flashed through him with the realization of how much she had given up, but it was easily pushed aside when he reminded himself that she loved him, not his title or money. That Charlotte had fallen in love with him despite living in a modest house with few servants and none of the trappings she was used to simply proved the depth of her feelings for him. He might not be able to worship her with riches, he thought grimly to himself, but he certainly could with his mind and body. Not to mention his help with whatever problems she found herself burdened with.