My Lord Hercules (10 page)

As soon as the Woodsworth butler
opened the front door, Harry nodded at the servant. “I need to
speak with Lord Woodsworth.”

The butler’s eyes widened for a
moment, then he shook his head. “I am sorry, my lord, but Lord
Woodsworth is not in residence.”

“
Where is he residing,
then?”

“
Clifton Court?” the man
suggested.

Hampshire? “He’s returned to his
seat?”

The butler appeared more perplexed by
the moment. “Returned, sir? From where?”

Clearly the man had no idea that his
master was somewhere in London. Harry scrubbed a hand down his
face. Why the devil would a man with pockets to let spend funds he
didn’t have for lodging when he already had a home in Mayfair?
Dread pricked at Harry’s heart. What if Miranda was right? What if
Woodsworth had done something to the Birkin girl? What other
nefarious schemes was he plotting? “Is Lady Woodsworth in, then?”
Perhaps the marchioness knew where her wastrel of a son
was.

“
Of course, sir.” The butler
opened the door wide. “If you’ll just wait in here.” He gestured to
the front parlor.

Almost as soon as Harry entered the
parlor in question, Lady Woodsworth stepped inside the room as
well. “Lord Harrison, what a surprise.”

He was sure it was. In fact, he wasn’t
sure the last time he saw the marchioness. Pippa’s wedding and then
Alice’s in the spring, most likely. Harry smiled at the lady, who
really was very kind for all that she had borne a scoundrel for a
son. “I’m looking for Wood.”

The marchioness’s face turned a bit
pale. “You don’t own his vowels, do you?”

Ah. So that’s why Woodsworth was
somewhere else, somewhere his creditors couldn’t easily locate him.
Harry shook his head. “No, nothing like that. I’m actually looking
for an acquaintance of his. A Miss Theresa Birkin. I was hoping he
could point me in her direction.”

Relief washed over Lady Woodsworth’s
face. Even still she shook her head. “The name sounds familiar, but
I don’t think I know the girl. Alice would know. She remembers
everything, you know?”

But a missing girl was hardly
something Harry wanted to discuss with Alice. The poor girl had
already endured a lifetime of troubles just for sharing
Woodsworth’s blood. “Where might I find Wood, my lady?”

Again she shook her head. “I’m not
certain, Lord Harrison. He could be in Hampshire or somewhere in
Town, but I haven’t seen him.”

And she was probably the happier for
it, not that Harry would say as much. He nodded instead. “Thank
you. I do appreciate your seeing me.”

“
Anytime,” she said,
sincerity evident in her voice. “You should visit more often, my
lord. I’m certain Mary or Bess would love see you as well
sometime.”

Her daughters of very
marriageable ages. But as Harry already had a girl of his own, he
merely smiled once more. “That is kind of you.” He started for the
door. “I should head over to Gifford House to see what Alice
remembers.” Or perhaps speak with her husband instead, as Giff had
mentioned seeing Wood the day before.
He
might have the best idea of where
to find the reprobate.

After making his way to Gifford House,
Harry was promptly shown in to the earl’s study. If Giff was
surprised by Harry’s sudden appearance, he didn’t show
it.

“
Sit, sit,” Giff said,
gesturing to the seat before his desk. “To what do I owe this
honor?”

Harry dropped into an overstuffed
chair, then leaned forward to meet the earl’s eyes better. The
entire journey from Woodsworth House, he’d gone over and over in
his head how to start this conversation. For as noble as Giff was,
he did happen to be Wood’s oldest friend, and Harry would really
rather not be tossed out on his ear. “I need to find
Wood.”

“
He doesn’t owe you any
blunt, does he?” Giff sighed.

“
No, though I need to find
him just the same.” Harry raked a hand through his hair.

Giff frowned as he leaned back in his
chair. “What’s he done this time? I’ll try to shield the girls from
it, if I can.”

Wood did not deserve a friend as
honorable as Giff, not by a long shot. “I don’t know that he’s done
anything, I just need to find him.”

The earl’s eyes narrowed on Harry as
though he were trying to make sense of him. “What’s going on,
Casemore?”

“
I just need to ask him
about a girl.”

“
About Miss Miranda?” Giff
pushed to his feet and stepped around his desk. “I suppose I don’t
need to tell you Pippa is quite concerned about your connection to
that particular girl.”

Why should Pippa care one way or the
other about Miranda? “I beg your pardon?”

“
She has deduced that your
Miss Miranda is the girl from Gioco’s.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open. “How the
devil did she figure that out?”

Giff heaved a sigh. “I’d wager St.
Austell helped her deduce that, though I’m equally sure half of
London has come to the same conclusion. It wasn’t that difficult,
old man. After all, you did help a girl find her way out of the
hell, and then you suddenly began courting a girl who very much
resembles the first. You aren’t exactly known for paying court to
proper girls on a regular basis, you know?”

No, he’d never had the desire to do so
before now. “I’m going to marry her,” Harry said, hoping his name
would protect Miranda, though fearing it would only confirm her
identity to everyone in Town.

“
I figured that as well. I
can’t imagine you’d let just any girl drive your phaeton.” He
smiled then. “As long as she makes you happy, Casemore, don’t worry
about what anyone else says. Another scandal will come along in a
week or so, and the incident at Gioco’s will long be
forgotten.”

“
Pippa has no reason to
worry on my account.”

“
Alice told her that very
thing, as she’s somewhat experienced in worrying about
ne’er-do-well brothers.”

And that quickly, they were back to
the subject of Woodsworth. “Do you know a chit named Theresa
Birkin?”

Giff tipped his head back to look at
the ceiling as though trying to recall the girl in question. “I do.
A mousy little thing. Ran into her several times during the
Season.”

“
You did?”

“
Didn’t you?” Giff asked.
“She always seemed to be everywhere Alice and the others
were.”

Harry shook his head. After Pippa
married St. Austell, there was no reason for Harry to continue
attending marriage mart functions, so he’d gone back to his usual
pursuits. “I don’t think so.”

“
What’s your interest in the
girl now?”

“
Miranda…” Harry cleared his
throat “That is, Miss Miranda says she’s missing. This Miss Birkin
is a friend of hers, and she’s quite concerned.”

“
And that’s why your Miss
Miranda entered Gioco’s?” Giff surmised aloud.

Harry nodded. “She thinks Wood knows
something about the girl’s disappearance.”

“
Oh dear God.” Giff shook
his head as though the idea was ludicrous. “He’s far from an angel,
but he wouldn’t do something like…” The expression on Giff’s face
suddenly changed to one of disbelief.

“
What is it?” Harry
asked.

“
She
was
infatuated with him, if I’m
thinking of the right girl. And he wasn’t exactly indifferent to
her.” Giff shook his head again. “But this is
Wood
, Casemore. He couldn’t be the
cause of some girl’s disappearance.” He snorted. “It would take too
much effort, too much planning to pull off something like
that.”

The earl did have a point. Still, it
would be best if Harry could just question Woodsworth and be done
with the man. “I really would like to speak with him.”

“
You don’t think he’s
capable of this,” Giff said.

No, he didn’t. Woodsworth wasn’t the
sort to make a girl disappear. But if the man knew anything, Harry
had to know what it was. He’d promised Miranda he’d get the truth,
after all. “Your wife owes me a favor, Giff.”

The earl’s glare turned slightly
murderous at that. “For introducing her to Haworth, I know. You’re
lucky you’re still breathing. Don’t tell me you ever mean to
collect.”

Harry ignored the earl’s tone. “Do me
this favor, Giff, and her debt to me will be wiped clean. Bring
Wood with you to St. Austell House this evening. Let’s end this
business once and for all. I just need to find out what he knows,
if anything.”

Giff’s expression softened slightly.
Then he nodded once. “Very well, but not because of that ridiculous
debt. If Wood knows something about the girl’s whereabouts, he
should tell it.”

No lady had ever been as beautiful as
Miranda Bartlett. Harry nearly lost his breath every time he saw
her. Walking into the Bartlett’s green parlor was no different. As
soon as Hibbert announced him and Harry’s eyes landed on his exotic
beauty sitting in a high-backed chair, he couldn’t help the foolish
grin that was sure to be plastered across his face.

“
Miranda.” His voice came
out husky to his own ears.

“
Harry.” A blush stained her
cheeks as she met his eyes, and Harry bit back a smile.

He wasn’t certain when she’d starting
calling him Harry, but he rather hoped she’d never stop. He’d wager
his last farthing that he affected her just the same as she
affected him. That did bode well for their future
together.

From the corner of the room, a
delicate cough caught Harry’s attention. He turned his head to find
another olive-skinned beauty. Not one he’d met before. “You must be
Miss Bartlett.”

“
Alessandra.” Miranda rose
from her seat, quickly crossing the floor to Harry. “This is Lord
Harrison Casemore.” She slid her arm through Harry’s and smiled up
at him, her hazel eyes twinkling. “Harry, my sister
Alessandra.”

“
Very nice to make your
acquaintance, Miss Bartlett,” Harry replied.

The older Bartlett girl’s clear blue
eyes seemed to assess him carefully as she said, “I’ve heard so
much about you, my lord.”

Had she? Harry glanced down at the
girl on his arm. “Talking about me, Miranda?”

Before Miranda could mutter a word,
her sister said, “Puttenham mentioned you.”

He couldn’t imagine what the Earl of
Puttenham could possibly have said about him, so Harry only smiled
and hoped for the best. “Congratulations on your recent
betrothal.”

“
I look forward to saying
the same thing to you, Lord Harrison.”

“
And I look forward to
hearing it.” With that end in mind, Harry squeezed Miranda’s hand.
When she met his gaze, he was struck once again by her beauty and
the adventurous soul lurking behind her hazel eyes. “Woodsworth
will be at St. Austell’s this evening. I’ll have the truth from him
about your Miss Birkin by the end of the night.”

Behind them, an irritated growl
emanated from someone, just inside the parlor. “Don’t tell me,”
Marston’s voice echoed off the walls, “you’ve roped Casemore into
this nonsense, Miranda.”