“I promise you I won’t let him weasel away before I’ve learned everything about his dealings with Miss Warrington. It’s entirely possible the incident has nothing at all to do with her disappearance.”
“It’s also possible the scoundrel has her locked away somewhere and in fear for her life, Val.” Frank pounded a fist on the tabletop, making the cutlery clink against the china.
It was clear that his cousin was in no fit state to search for Miss Warrington. He’d either attack the wrong man and land himself in jail or get himself killed.
“I know you’re frightened for her,” he said in a calm voice. “But I promise you we will leave no stone unturned until we find her. Eversham is a good man and a gifted detective. And Kate and Caro care about Miss Warrington, too. They won’t let her disappearance go without putting everything they have into the search.”
Mentioning Caro reminded him of the news he needed to share. He’d considered holding off on telling Frank, but as he’d sent off the announcement for tomorrow’s papers, there was little point in hiding his betrothal. The timing wasn’t the best, but it couldn’t be helped. And if Val were honest, he hoped the news would distract Frank a little.
“Speaking of Caro,” he said, feeling slightly uncomfortable, “we became betrothed last night.”
Frank gaped. “What?”
“We had a brief understanding several years ago but it came to nothing and—”
“Caroline Hardcastle?” Frank said, as if there were some other Caro they both knew. “The dark-haired chit who was at Effie’s yesterday? Kate’s writing partner? The one who despises you? That Caroline Hardcastle?”
It would appear that Val’s wish that his betrothal could prove a distraction for his cousin had been answered in spades.
“Yes, that Caro,” he said, feeling pettish. “And she doesn’t despise me. She’s quite fond of me, actually.”
At his cousin’s raised brows, he amended, “Fond-ish, then. You didn’t see us at our best yesterday.”
“I sincerely hope not.” Frank’s voice held more vehemence than the situation warranted, in Val’s opinion. “I’ve seen cats in a bag that get along better.”
Val scowled. He didn’t have to defend his betrothal to Frank. Or anyone, for that matter.
“I didn’t ask for your opinion of the match,” Val groused. “I merely thought to let you know, since there will no doubt be talk.”
“Talk?” Frank’s expression turned serious. “Why?”
Val told him about Caro’s run-in with Harrison and the subsequent outcome.
“Oh Lord.” Frank ran a hand over his hair. “That happened because you were trying to find Effie.”
“Not precisely,” Val corrected, feeling compelled to make his cousin understand that however it might have come about, his betrothal to Caro was their choice. Somewhere in between the argument Frank had witnessed yesterday and their goodbyes last night, he’d come to want their marriage more than was entirely rational. “I daresay we’d have argued our way into a betrothal at some point regardless, but last evening’s events simply precipitated matters.”
Frank raised his brows, clearly skeptical.
Dash it, he didn’t need to prove anything to his blasted cousin. Even so, Val said with what he hoped was a cool expression, “We rub along quite well together, in fact.”
He suspected his face might be red.
“Is that what you call it?” Frank winked.
“Frank, with all due respect, stow it.”
He was saved by the appearance of his butler in the doorway.
“My lord, there is a young lady here claiming to be your betrothed. As it is altogether inappropriate for her to call without a chaperone, I thought it best not to bring her inside.”
Good God.
“She is, indeed, my betrothed, Foyle.” Val leapt up from his chair and hurried to leave the breakfast room. “You can’t just leave young ladies on my doorstep, man.”
“If his lordship had informed me of his impending nuptials,” his retainer said as he followed at a more decorous pace, “then I should have let her inside. However unusual it might be for her to appear without a maid, the betrothal does add consequence to her visit.”
And Caro thought Val’s father was high in the instep, Val thought. He would need to have a word with Foyle later.
“I’ll just leave you to speak with your betrothed alone,” Frank said, rising from the table. “Tell her congratulations from me.”
Before Val could tell his cousin he should do so himself, Frank had disappeared down the hall. Mindful that Caro was waiting, Val hurried toward the entryway.
When he pulled the door open, Val found Caro standing there in a very fetching blue velvet driving ensemble with a hat and ribbons to match. At her side, she tapped a driving whip against her leg. Or where her leg would be if young ladies had such extremities, which, of course, propriety said should never ever be acknowledged in public.
“Caro.” He felt oddly breathless. “Come in.”
She looked up with a quizzical smile. In a teasing tone, she said, “Why are you answering your own door? I feel sure that is not something viscounts do. Does your father know about this?”
He was suddenly very glad she’d called.
“Just come inside.” The concentration it took to keep from kissing her then and there made his voice gruff.
She tilted her head in censure and stood her ground. Val sighed, even as her behavior amused him. She’d give him no quarter, and he had better accustom himself to it. “Please, Caroline, won’t you let me welcome you into my home?”
“That’s better,” she said, stepping over the threshold and gazing around with interest.
With a rush of nerves, Val realized she was looking at what would be her new home. Would she approve? Most of the furnishings had been chosen by Piers and Cynthia, and he hadn’t gotten round to making many changes. He wanted her to like it. The strength of that want surprised him. Enough so, he realized that he quite possibly would be willing to tear the whole place down and build a new one in its stead should she ask.
“I apologize, Miss Hardcastle,” Foyle said with abject regret. “I was not aware that his lordship had taken the significant step of asking you to be his bride. If I had known, I would never have dared—”
“I said I was sorry, Foyle.” Val cut off the older man’s speech. Foyle had started out in service to the Duke and Duchess of Thornfield as a footman. And as someone who’d known Val since he was in short coats, he understood precisely how to play on his employer’s emotions. But Val had no patience for the man’s hangdog expression today.
Foyle would not be silenced so easily. “I would like to offer my best wishes upon your forthcoming marriage, Miss Hardcastle. I’m sure the rest of the household would as well, were they aware of the news.”
Caro must have found the man’s palaver charming because she smiled widely and thanked him with a sweetness that made Val almost grateful for his chiding.
“We’ll have tea in the front parlor, Foyle,” Val told him as he escorted Caro to the brightly lit room.
He wasn’t sure if greeting her with a kiss was entirely appropriate just yet. Especially since it wasn’t strictly proper for her to visit his home unchaperoned. So he settled for bussing her cheek, which was really not at all what he wanted, but he wasn’t a ravening beast.