Gillian escaped out the door just a few seconds before the cushion hit it. She chuckled at the undignified and unladylike language coming from behind the door and hurried down the hall after her son.

***

“Crouch, I wish to go to Lord Carlisle’s house. Do you have the direction?”

“Ye be wantin’ to do what, m’lady?”

“I wish to go to Lord Carlisle’s house. Tomorrow.”

Crouch stared at Gillian as he handed her into the carriage. “Lord Carlisle, m’lady?”

“Yes, Lord Carlisle, Crouch. Is there a problem?”

Crouch’s eyes glazed over at the thought of all the problems his mistress’s unusual request would generate. The number alone staggered the mind. “Aye, m’lady, ye could be sayin’ there’s a problem. A right big problem it be, too.”

“You don’t know his direction?”

“Eh…well, as to that, m’lady, as ye’ve asked me outright…”

“Excellent. Then I shall assume that you will be able to accompany Lady Charlotte and me tomorrow to pay a call upon Lord Carlisle.”

A stunned Crouch climbed onto the seat next to John Coachman. “I’m all-a-mort, Johnny. What do ye think of that, then?”

“She fair bewattles me.” John Coachman shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes, Crouch, having to tell his lordship that.”

Crouch, known to inspire terror in men with just one sneer of his scarred face, blanched with horror at the thought of what his employer would have to say.

“It’s not so much what ’e’ll say as what ’e’ll do,” he corrected himself.

“Aye, you’re right there. He’ll have your head if you let the mistress go calling on his hated enemy.”

Crouch cupped a protective hand around his most prized possessions and stared ahead through the leader’s ears. “I could live without me ’ead. It’s what else ’e might take off that turns me blood pale!”

***

At the very time Gillian was on her way home, explaining to her son that she and Noble were going to be out that evening, Noble stepped down from his friend Rosse’s carriage and glanced down Bond Street. Lord Rosse squinted against the afternoon sun and followed his friend’s gaze. “I see Poodle Byng is back in town, stouter than ever. Who’s that with him?”

“Sefton.”

“Oh, yes, should know that nose anywhere. Shall we stay a moment and greet them?” Rosse looked speculatively at his friend. “Or is there a need to?”

“My dear friend, you may pass your time as you like, but I intend on expelling a bit of energy on whoever might be willing to oblige me.” Weston started up the steps to Gentleman Jackson’s rooms.

“I gather this laissez-faire attitude means either, or both, men have given you the cut?”

“You may gather whatever you like, Harry. Remind me to mention a little problem I need your advice on once we’ve taken a bit of exercise.”

Rosse smiled and followed his friend up the stairs. “I don’t recall you having a need to expend energy at Gentleman Jackson’s before, Noble. I used to have to beg you to come with me, despite the fact that you’re a great hulking brute perfectly made for dashing a fellow’s brains about the ring.” He shook his head in mock concern. “How comes a newly wedded man to have so much excess energy? It can’t be good, my friend. I sadly fear you are not doing right by your new countess and will have to take the issue up with you when you are finished expending all this energy you seem to possess.”