Page 21 of Kiss the Scoundrel Farewell
“I’ll be safe with Mr. Jackson.” Meg chewed her lip as she thought. Should she stop at Lord Hayward’s house on the way out of town? Or should she put London behind her? By the time she returned, Belten would surely have lost interest. “My trunk is packed. I shall leave before noon.”
“Send me word,” Lady Wyndam said with a wink. “My only titillation these days comes from my young friends. And Lord Hayward is most sigh worthy.”
Meg smiled for the first time that day. He certainly was.
Simon began with Lady Wyndam’s direction, but the countess was not expected until the next day. He decided to try Lord Drake’s townhouse. Meg had said they didn’t speak, but the baron would at least be able to tell him where Meg lived.
The butler who answered was a slim, nervous fellow. “M-may I help you?”
Simon ran his hand over his jaw. He’d shaved this morning, was well dressed. Why would his appearance frighten the man?
“I need to speak with Lord Drake.”
“H-he’s out,” the man said.
From the corner of his eyes, Simon saw a curtain pull back. The nodcock was hiding. Why? He didn’t owe Simon any blunt, they had no quarrel.
“Tell him Lord Hayward would like to speak with him,” instructed Simon.
“I can give him the m-message when he returns, my lord.” The butler shut the door.
Simon took the steps down to the curb and climbed into his carriage. A thought came to him, and he disembarked to give his driver instructions. They would drive around and come back, waiting down the street for that blasted lickpenny to come out.
An hour later, a carriage appeared in front of the townhouse. Simon left his own vehicle and moved quickly toward Lord Drake as he emerged from the house. Just as the baron reached the coach door and was about to step up, Simon grabbed him by the collar.
“Is there a reason you’re avoiding me?”
Lord Drake had inherited his father’s coloring but not the handsome features. From the bulbous nose and veins in the man’s cheeks, Simon decided he had inherited the love of drink. What else?
“I don’t know what you mean,” hissed the portly man. “Let go of me.”
“Why did you pretend not to be home? Who are you afraid of?” Simon stepped in front of the man so he couldn’t get into the carriage.
When Drake saw his face, he let out a sigh. “Hayward, it’s you. Accept my apology. I thought you were… someone else.”
“Gambling, eh?” asked Simon as it dawned on him.
Drake nodded. “Yes, stakes got a bit too high, and I was a little too drunk.”
“I need to ask you about Lady Drake, the widow.”
He sneered, showing large, yellowed teeth. “We don’t speak. Good riddance.”
“I don’t care if you converse. I want to know where her estate is.” Simon was losing his patience. The longer it took to find her, the longer she thought he’d lied to her.
“Ah, I see. She’s a cold fish, you know. Won’t get far with her.” He wrinkled his nose. “She took my property.”
“I understand you tried to steal her property.”
Drake flapped a hand. “Peas and carrots. Yes, I can give you the direction.”
Simon went home and had his valet pack a bag. He would stop by Lady Wyndam’s before he left in the morning to see if she had any news of Meg. Then he was off to Surrey.
Sunday
Simon accepted the tea from Lady Wyndam and balanced it on his knee to keep his boot from tapping the wine-colored Axminster carpet. He needed to be off, but the countess was indulging in small talk.
“So, what is the reason for your visit, Lord Hayward? Not that I don’t appreciate a handsome young man calling on me, but I’m sure you have a purpose.” She set her teacup and saucer on the table between them.
