Sir Hugh’s jaw dropped. “No! Where? When? What happened? Good God, man, you weren’t hurt, were you?”

Weston explained the situation in a few succinct sentences.

Sir Hugh cleared his throat and put a hand on the older man’s arm. “Anything I can do, Noble. I am completely at your service. And your lady’s, too, of course.”

Noble nodded and turned back to Rosse.

“Well, as I was telling Noble, there’s not much to go on now. His mistress, who wrote the note that was responsible for him being lured to the house, has disappeared. No one knows of her whereabouts, although the servants report she left in a hurry.”

“You’ve spoken with the servants?” Sir Hugh asked.

“Yes, I had some luck there and located the cook. All of the servants were paid two months’ wages and told to leave immediately.”

“That’s very suspicious!” Sir Hugh said.

Noble ignored him. “You found no report of a stranger being seen at the house? No visitors who were beyond Mariah’s normal circle of friends?”

“None. At least, none that I’ve heard from yet. I’m calling on a few men I know to help with the investigation, so perhaps they will be able to uncover something about her visitors.”

“Excellent. I’m sure you’ll have results, Harry. And now I must be off, gentleman. I have an appointment with a Mr. Stafford.”

“Stafford?” Rosse asked, steepling his fingers together under his chin. “Bow Street Runners?”

“Yes. I need an additional pair of eyes.”

“Focused on a certain Scotsman?”

“Among other individuals, yes,” Noble responded and started for the door.

“Weston—hold for a moment, man.” Sir Hugh hurried after the Black Earl. “Allow me to be of assistance as well, Noble. I will do whatever I can to aid you in this. Is there some task I can accomplish for you?”

“Nothing, thank you, Tolly.”

“Nonsense, there must be something.” Sir Hugh put a restraining hand on the earl’s sleeve. Noble, at the door, looked down at the hand on his arm, then up at the gently perspiring baronet. He bit back words of annoyance, reminding himself that Tolly was enthusiastic, if not overly bright. “I appreciate the offer, Tolly,” he said, collecting his hat and stick from the attendant. “I will let you know when I have something for you to do.”

***

Gillian was in the drawing room, holding up a piece of crimson Spitalfields silk against the wall and imagining a gilded ceiling with medallions formed from diamond and octagon shapes.

“What do you think, Nick? The crimson silk, or the bronze green silk? Or something else entirely?” Gillian asked, digging through a stack of wallpaper and fabric samples. “Here, look at this lovely blue. It’s called smalt. Isn’t it rich? Can’t you just imagine this room in smalt, with the woodwork picked out in gilt?”

Nick looked at the fabrics and selected one he liked. “Peach Blossom. Yeees, it’s lovely, but a little…well, pink, don’t you think?”

“What’s pink? Oooh, you have fabric samples? Did the earl give you permission to redecorate, then?” Charlotte bustled in through the door before Tremayne Two could announce her. “Let me see. No, definitely not pale colors, those are passé. You want a strong, vibrant color. I like this crimson.”