Page 21 of Lady Edith and the Registry Office
“Louisa is quite good with the ledgers as she is very organized.” Charlotte then whispered, “She might actually be starting to enjoy herself.”
Louisa shrugged and rolled her eyes. “Town is rather boring at this time of year. I have to stay occupied withsomething. Mother believes volunteering will help me flourish as a person or some such nonsense.”
“Have you packed?” Edith asked pointedly. Louisa had a lot of clothing.
The other girl waved a languid hand. “My maid has everything well in hand. I’ll only bring a few trunks with me.”
She wondered how much clothing Louisa really needed. It was August, and the ladies expected to leave Town in November.
Charlotte put away her fan and rose to her feet. “La, it is hot. Shall we repair to Gunter’s for an ice?”
“That is an excellent idea.” She could do with something to drink. Edith placed the magazine on the table, hopeful her father might have a copy in his study. She would ask him if and when he returned home.
* * * * *
That Saturday morning, Nathaniel was roused from his bed by an impatient Cecil.
“What are you doing in my bedchamber?” he asked groggily, blinking at the man who stood at the end of the four-poster bed.
“The sun is up. You should be as well.”
He grumbled in reply, “You are the only gentleman I know who gets up at the crack of dawn. Several of my servants might well be tossed out because of you.”
“It isn’t their fault I’m here.” Cecil grinned. “You know that.”
Aye, he did. Sitting up and throwing back the covers, Nathaniel was glad he wore short drawers to sleep in. There was a knock at the door.
“My lord?”
“Come in, Branson.”
The valet entered the room warily.
“It’s all right, Branson. I know full well that you are not at fault for my early morning.” Nathaniel frowned darkly at Cecil.
The viscount took himself off downstairs without a word. When Nathaniel arrived in the drawing room dressed for the day, it was to see his friend calmly drinking a cup of coffee.
Cecil held up his cup. “Your maids are ever so accommodating.”
Taking a seat on a hard-backed chair, Nathaniel picked up the pot from a tea tray and poured himself a cup of the rich brew. His butler, the most correct Binns, must have been elsewhere in the house this morning, or Cecil would never have made it past the entry hall.
“To what do I owe this early morning call?”
“One of your veterans is missing.” Cecil rose to his feet, placing his cup and saucer on the nearby tray. “I’ve sent a missive to Ashford and he’s expecting us. I’ll tell you both what has happened when we’re together.”
After taking a long swallow of coffee, Nathaniel put his cup back on the tray and followed Cecil from the room. Once they exited the house, he spied his friend’s unmarked black town coach. The coachman and attending footmen wore basic, nondescript black livery.
Ashford lived further down the square, close enough that the men could walk to the townhouse, and Nathaniel hoped the brief exercise would help clear the cobwebs from his brain.
Nathaniel yawned widely and followed Cecil along the pavement at a brisk pace. He needed more coffee before he could process what Cecil had said. What worried him was the connection the missing veteran might have to the RA. There must be some association, or the viscount wouldn’t have driven to Mayfair to give his friends the news.
When the two men entered his study, Ashford stood to greet them. “Have a seat.”
“How about some breakfast?” Nathaniel smothered a yawn with his hand. “Cecil dragged me out of bed, and I haven’t yet broken my fast.”
Ashford picked up and rang the bell on the corner of his desk. A footman immediately appeared at the open door.
“We require a breakfast tray.”
