He’d never been a very great student of the church, but he was rather uncomfortable with the thought of damnation. Perhaps he ought to make friends with a man of the church back in Cornwall. Such theological discussions would be useful when questions arose, and it could not hurt to improve one’s standing with the church and the Almighty by good connections.

As in Society, as in heaven. If that was how things worked.

Walking past a church now, Harrison mentally crossed himself, exhaling slowly in lieu of completely abandoning his task. What point was there in trying when he knew full well it was useless? His conscience pricked at him as though it sat within his chest wielding a needle, just as it had done for the last two weeks. Much as he might try to ignore the connection, he did have a brother, and that brother lived in London.

He could not get married in London without informing Richard.

It was sheer folly, but his mind was made up.

Mostly.

There was still a chance for someone to talk him out of it, though he was not entirely sure who would do such a thing in London, let alone in this part of it. The only options were himself and Richard, and either option could have done the task creditably. It had happened before where five minutes in his brother’s company had been enough to overturn a decision, and it would certainly happen again if given a chance.

Even now, Harrison could not have said if he would be inviting his brother to the wedding, informing him of its occurrence, or warning him away from the event. He simply could not leave London without his brother knowing that he had taken a wife. Wisdom might have had him inform the man after the wedding had taken place, but that cursed, determined flicker of hope that somehow still lived within him wanted to give Richard a chance.

Idiotic notion, but it was there, all the same.

Whitechapel was certainly not the worst place in the world for his brother to have lodgings, but it was hardly a respectable area. How it managed to stay just above the description of squalid was something Harrison did not understand, as one trip down any alley in the area would lead a body to the depths of such a word, but somehow it did so. The location was perfect for someone like Richard who did not want to engage often with the upper class in its finery, yet refused to be permanently reduced to the lower orders, either. Cheap bachelor rooms were there, as well as those willing to pawn the belongings of others in order to feed less than respectable habits.

Which was likely why Richard had chosen this place for his residence. No expectations, no rules, and no limits to one’s depravity.