Harry gave him a nod as he opened the door and exited the study.

“Gerard has a private eye investigating, as well,” he said to Bridget when they were alone again.

“Does Drew know?” she asked, and he shook his head.

“I thought it would be best if each man is unaware of the other’s involvement. I want the truth.”

“And you do not wish for anything to bias the search,” she said, understanding perfectly.

“Precisely.” Another knock came just then, and Harry called, “Yes?”

“Lander, Your Grace.”

“Come in.”

The butler opened the door and walked in. “The tailor is here.”

Harry frowned. “Tailor?” Instinctively, he glanced down at Bridget and found her lips sucked in, a look that was a combination of guilt and mischief.This is her doing, no doubt.

“I shall be there shortly.”

“At once, Your Grace.” Lander bowed and left.

“What did you do?” He asked Bridget.

She smiled sweetly up at him, undoing his effort to appear stern. “I thought you might need new clothes.”

He glanced down at his faded blue morning coat and winced. “I…I did not notice,” he admitted, wishing he had concerned himself more with his appearance. She must think him greatly lacking in refinement, and that pricked at his pride.

“Are you displeased?” she asked, placing a hand on his arm.

“No, I am not,” he reassured her. “I will see the tailor now.”

He left her in his study and a footman met him in the hall. “The tailor is in the morning room, Your Grace,” he informed him.

Harry made his way there. The castle had four drawing rooms but only two had been usable, and now they were being redecorated. A tall mirror was the first thing he saw when he entered the room, and his reflection was not something he was comfortable seeing.

Several boxes were arranged on the floor while the tailor draped swatches of fabric over Lander’s spread arms.

“This would make a splendid waistcoat,” his usually stoic butler said eagerly when a deep blue fabric was draped on his arm. “The gold embroidery is very fashionable.”

Harry cleared his throat, and Lander was immediately at attention. “Your Grace, this is the tailor, Mr. Walker.”

Harry acknowledged him with a nod, noting how immaculately dressed he was. Not a strand of hair was out of place on his blonde head, and his coat was of very fine wool. He smiled inwardly at his ability to recognize quality fashion. He had once dressed well but that was a very long time ago.

“May I take your measurements, Your Grace?” Mr. Walker asked.

Harry nodded and stood on the stool Walker motioned toward in front of the mirror. He stepped onto it with his back to the mirror.

“I understand from your valet that you prefer deep colors?” Walker stretched his tape along the length of Harry’s arm.

“Correct,” Harry said.

“Might I suggest green?”

“Green looks mighty fine on you, Your Grace,” Lander said. Again, Harry allowed himself an inward smile. Lander fulfilled the duties of a butler and a valet, and had done so since Harry’s return from Spain after the battle. He was the only man he could trust to not judge his appearance.

“My valet will choose the colors and styles for me,” he told Walker, and Lander’s eyes were immediately illuminated while his demeanor remained unchanged. Harry knew he would be pleased to properly act the role of a valet.