The Major's Bride

By Laura Jeffries

In 1814, Major Evan Caldwell, half- brother to the Marquess of Thornbourgh, and his friend and associate, Captain Robert Roberts, are attached to the office of the home secretary. They are trying to break up a spy ring that is attempting to restore Napoleon as emperor of France. Evan, meanwhile, is under orders from his brother to marry in order to produce a male heir for the family, although he is reluctant to fulfill that duty and give up the career he loves in order to take his place among the nobility. Penelope Branston, a young widow of the Peninsular War, has no thoughts of remarrying and is content to live with another war widow, Sarah Fitzwilliam, and their two small children. All their lives are thrown into turmoil, however, when Evan and Robert chance upon the attempted abduction of Penelope. They must keep the ladies safe from further abductionsor worsewhile at the same time tracking down the traitors who would restore Napoleon to his empire. Romance complicates the issue, especially when Evans sister-in-law, the marchioness, decides to play matchmaker. Set in Regency England shortly before the Battle of Waterloo, this novel brings together two unlikely lovers in a tale of adventure, mystery, and romance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jan 31, 2015
• ISBN: 9781496943958

Laura Jeffries

Laura Jeffries is the pseudonym for a husband-wife writing team. Both are retired: he, a CPA, from a career with a public accounting firm, and she, a PhD, from a career as a college English professor. Besides writing, they enjoy reading, traveling, and spending time at their Wisconsin cottage.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Two women sat in the small parlor. Both of them were dressed in somber, dark gray, very plain morning dresses. In fact one would suspect that the dresses came from the same pattern (which in truth was the case) since both had high collars, were rather loosely fitted to the slim figures of their wearers, and had sleeves that buttoned up to the elbows. The only trimming on either gown was a small amount of lace around the neck, the sleeves and the flounce. The lace was nearly the same somber gray as the dresses. While the dresses were very competently made, it was obvious to a careful observer that they had been sewn, not by one of the London modistes, but most probably by the women themselves.

The room itself was rather shabby. It contained outdated and well-worn furnishings, but the wood gleamed under a fresh coat of beeswax and no speck of dust could be readily seen. This was true of the entire small suite of lodgings that the women occupied, which was, unfortunately, situated off the beaten track in what could be fairly described as certainly not in the best part of London. The spotlessly clean apartment was entirely due to the diligent personal efforts of the two women and their one and only housemaid. They had arrived at this place only a few days ago and had spent almost every moment since bringing it to what they both agreed was almost tolerable order.

The women were working on what looked to be another dress very similar to the ones that they were wearing, although the bluish gray color of the material was of a slightly different shade. The hands expertly plying the needles, though small and slender, were pretty but showed that they were accustomed to work. While the women worked, Adam, a boy of four years old, sat on the floor playing quietly (for a change) with a set of blocks. He would first build a tower, then knock it down, giggle happily, and then rebuild it and knock it down over and over again, as is the habit of small boys that age with a set of blocks. Ruth, a baby who was not yet quite able to walk, sat fascinated, watching the boy playing with his blocks. By the dress and demeanor of the women, one would assume that they were a couple of widows, perhaps sisters, living together because of slightly impoverished circumstances. However, their youth and their pretty faces would cause a person to question this first impression. The observer would be both correct and incorrect on these impressions.

Mrs. Penelope Brantson was twenty four years old. She was a slender woman, slightly less than average height, with dark brown hair, beautiful dark brown eyes and long eyelashes. She had an amazing smile that could light up a room faster than the morning sun and, when cast upon members of the opposite sex, had been known to render them speechless. Mrs. Sarah Fitzwilliam was six months younger—still a mere twenty three. She was the taller of the pair by several inches and by most accounts would be described as a woman of above average height. She was the classic English beauty with blond hair, a creamy complexion, and sparkling blue eyes. Sadly, both were indeed widows, Lieutenants Brantson and Fitzwilliam having been lost in the same fierce battle during the Peninsular War. Neither of the women was by any means wealthy nor even well off, but neither were they impoverished. Penelope Brantson was the daughter of a minor baronet who had diminished his inheritance before passing it on to his only son, who had managed to gamble away what little was left. Fortunately for Mrs. Brantson, however, she had inherited a modest portion from her grandmother which had escaped the clutches of the baronet. Sarah Fitzwilliam was the only child of a now deceased country gentlemen and his lady, and she was possessed of a modest inheritance as well. Neither of them had concern to worry about their next meal nor being able to dress modestly, as long as they continued to manage their limited resources carefully. Financial circumstances did not dictate their choice of these lodgings as their current residence. They had arrived in London unexpectedly just before the beginning of the season, and nothing more suitable was available on such short notice. But they certainly could not afford to reside for a long period of time in one of London’s numerous hotels. They had tried to book passage home shortly after their husbands were killed on the Peninsula, but that was not easily accomplished with the limited resources they had available to them in Spain. Everyone was trying to return to England at the end of the campaign, and ship captains were always looking to receive the maximum amount of gold from their prospective passengers. So the women were forced to remain on the Peninsula, where they assisted nurses in a military hospital until they were finally able to obtain passage to England.

The women did not expect that they would remarry, but neither had a desire to live alone. They decided that by pooling their resources they would be able to have a few more luxuries of life than they would be able to afford individually. And, while they had sisterly feelings toward one another, there was only the merest of distant family connections between them—their deceased husbands were cousins. And even that connection could hardly have been much more remote. But the two got along well, and so far their decision had worked to their advantage. Both of them adored the small boy playing with his blocks on the floor and the baby girl who sat watching him. So much were they both a part of his life that Adam occasionally slipped and addressed Sarah as Mama even though it was Penelope who was his mother, and he consistently called Ruth his sister though she was Sarah’s daughter.

They heard a soft knock on the door which was answered by their maid. Shortly thereafter the maid tapped on the parlor door, opened it, curtseyed politely, and announced, Lord Fitzwilliam.

Sarah rose quickly and approached her father-in-law with both hands extended. How good it is to see you my Lord. I wasn’t expecting you, she greeted him.

Well, my dear, responded the Baron, I arrived back in town last evening because I was able to take care of my estate business faster than I anticipated, and I have what I believe is good news for you. And how many times must I tell you to stop calling me my Lord? He turned his head toward Penelope who had also risen as he entered and added, Mrs. Brantson, good morning to you as well. Please sit down. You really need not get up just because of me, you know.

Before Penelope could respond, Sarah interjected, Father, please sit down. And what is the good news that you have for us?

Ah, Father; that is much better Sarah, the Baron responded smiling as he sat in the closest chair which creaked slightly as he settled himself into it.

My, oh my, the Baron announced as he sat down and looked about the room. What a wonderful job you have done with this place in the few days you have been here. While it still isn’t what I would like for you, it looks much better than it did when you moved in. I am sorry that I could find nothing better, but you gave me so little warning time before you arrived.

Thank you, Father, answered Sarah. We have done what we could. What it needed most was a good cleaning, and we have done that. We know that you did your best—and that decent lodgings are very scarce this time of year. Believe me, Penelope and I have done with less—much less—on the Peninsula. But that is in the past. What is your good news?

I have found a house for you near Fitzwilliam Manor, the Baron answered proudly. It is just at the end of Amsworth Village within easy walking distance of the manor. It has a decent sized parlor with a dining room and kitchen on the ground floor, and there are four or five adequate bedrooms on the first floor, as well as servant’s quarters in the attic. It will take some fixing and a good deal of cleaning, but it is structurally sound. I tried but I couldn’t convince old Connors to sell it to me; however, he is amiable to a very long term lease on quite favorable terms. He has promised me that he will hold it for me for a month so that I can consider it, but since he hasn’t been able to rent it for years, I doubt that anyone will be trying to steal it away from me, he added with a chuckle. If you are agreeable, which I hope you will be, I will go ahead and sign the lease.

But, how much does it cost? Penelope and Sarah asked almost simultaneously.

No need for you to worry yourselves about that, answered the Baron. I have taken care of that. It is more than worth the little it will cost for Lady Fitzwilliam and me to have you and Ruth close by. Lady Fitzwilliam is in love with all her grandchildren, you know, and she is most eager to add Ruth to the brood close at hand. He paused for a moment before looking at Penelope and adding, And knowing Lady Fitzwilliam as I do, Mrs. Brantson, I am sure she will welcome Adam as just another one of her grandchildren as well. She loves having children around her and the more the merrier. She will not distinguish between them. You know that we would love to have you in the manor itself but there just isn’t enough room while Susan and her children are with us. And with things the way they stand on the Peninsula, we have no way of knowing when our son-in-law will return to make a home for his family. However, it will be good for Ruth, and Adam also, to have other children nearby to grow up with. The Baron hesitated for a moment and added, But I really should allow you to make your own decision, shouldn’t I? Would you like to drive there and see it for yourselves? he added rather sadly.

Penelope and Sarah looked at the Baron and then at each other before Penelope spoke. Lord Fitzwilliam, that is really most generous of you. I should not speak for Sarah but I hope that she agrees with me. I know that Fitzwilliam Manor is in a very lovely locale and I would really love to accept your offer to move near there. I am sure any house that you choose for us would be most suitable.

Sarah quickly added, Well, if Penelope is willing, I certainly am. You know that I love Fitzwilliam Manor, Father, and it will be wonderful for Ruth to grow up with her cousins and for Adam to have other children to play with too. You and Lady Fitzwilliam are most generous indeed.

The Baron smiled and rubbed his hands together joyfully, Wonderful. Then it is settled. Lady Fitzwilliam will be most pleased, most pleased indeed. I have a little business to take care of in London, but it will take only a few days at the most. I will sign the lease as soon as I get back to Fitzwilliam Manor and the workmen can start the improvements immediately. We will let you know as soon as it is available to move in. Now I must be off. The sooner I can get my business done here, the sooner I can get back and get things started. But I will let you know when I am ready to leave town.

Chapter 2

Not far away in a mansion as grand as the women’s lodgings were dismal, the Marquess of Thornbourgh sat quietly behind the massive desk in his library. His elbows were resting on the desk as he looked over his steepled fingers at his brother, Lord Jonathon Caldwell, sitting across the desk, quietly pondering what the Marquess had just told him.

Well Jonathon, what can I do? asked the Marquess. The doctor says no more pregnancies. After Marianne (the Marquess’ first wife) only produced daughters before the accident that took her, Gwenyth wanted nothing more than she wanted to produce an heir to Thornbourgh. The poor woman has tried four times to get the job done and all of them ended in miscarriages. I can’t ask any more of her, can I? Don’t want to kill her after all. He added under his breath, And I couldn’t bear to lose her.

No, no, of course not, Lord Jonathon replied. And my own wife, Susan, is done with that sort of thing at her age. Not that I don’t love my daughters as I am sure you do yours, but a shame nevertheless that between the two of us and three wives there were no sons.

As the two brothers continued to ponder their difficulties, the Marquess finally broke the silence. It will have to be up to Evan then.

Evan?

Yes. Since both of us can give him over 20 years, odds are he’ll be the Marquess of Thornbourgh someday on his own, answered the current holder of the title. Best that he get on with establishing the succession as soon as possible.

But he knows nothing about the management of the estates, said Lord Jonathon. And as far as I know, he has never even contemplated marriage. And who knows what he’s been up to these past years. I know that he is supposed to be in the Army, but I never see him in a uniform and most often when I do see him, he looks like a street ruffian. Why, only last week I passed by someone who, if it wasn’t Evan, could pass for his twin, but he walked past me with nary a glance—as if he had never seen me before in his life. And he looked like he had neither shaved nor bathed in a week.

The Marquess, who knew more or less the details of what his half-brother, Evan, was about, decided to ignore his brother’s comments and continued, Well, we have no choice. We will have to teach him to be a Marquess. And we shall have to insist that he marry and beget heirs—SOON! I don’t even want to think about that mealy mouthed Willoughby or his even worse son inheriting the title. I will send for Evan.

The Marquess pulled some paper from the top drawer of his desk. He checked and sharpened a quill, dipped it into a bottle of ink, and penned a short note to his youngest brother. He passed the missive to Jonathon and asked, Will this do it do you think?

My Dearest Brother,

We have some most urgent and important business to discuss. I hope that it might be convenient for you to wait upon me at four o’clock this afternoon.

Your most humble servant,

Thornbourgh

Lord Jonathon read the note twice, nodded his head in affirmation, and handed it back to the Marquess, adding, I hope he doesn’t take it too much as a command rather than a request. He might decide not to appear just to prove that you can’t order him around—Evan being what he is.

Well, no help for it, responded the Marquess. We need him to get started on this matter of the succession forthwith. He folded the note, applied wax, and pressed his signet into it. Then he opened the library door and called for a footman. When the footman entered, the Marquess asked, James, do you know where my brother Major Caldwell resides?

When the footman answered, Yes, my Lord, the Marquess continued, Good, then take this to his residence. If he is there—and don’t take no for an answer easily—insist that you deliver the message personally and wait for his reply. Understand?

The footman accepted the envelope and repeated, Yes, my Lord, I understand. I am to give the message personally to the Major and wait for his reply. I won’t leave it unless I am positive that he is not present. I will not let the Major’s servants get the better of me, Sir.

Excellent, James. Bring the response directly to me when you return. That will be all.

Since there was nothing else to be said between the brothers, they sat there in silence for a few more minutes before Lord Jonathon stood up and took leave of his brother.

Chapter 3

There was a banging on the door at the women’s lodgings, followed by even more banging when the door wasn’t opened fast enough to suit the new arrival. When the door was opened, Sir Henry Hafenworth, a minor baronet, didn’t give the young maid a chance to close the outside door behind him and announce his presence to the ladies. He just barged ahead and entered the parlor on his own. After he slammed that door behind himself, his first words were, You need to fire that maid. She is derelict in her duties, left me standing on the stoop knocking for the better part of an age. And I certainly don’t want to be seen in this neighborhood by any of my friends. Absolutely disgusting place. You should have known better than to take up living here.

Penelope, who was accustomed to her brother’s ravings, merely sat there without commenting, knowing that it was next to useless to argue with him. He never listened to anything anyone else said anyway, unless he was toad-eating one of the very few people that he considered his betters. Sarah was speechless because she had never seen Sir Hafenworth in one of his moods before.

Finally he shut up, and Penelope addressed her brother, the sarcasm that was quite evident in her voice escaping Sir Hafenworth’s notice because he couldn’t possibly conceive the thought that anyone, least of all his own sister, would be sarcastic towards him. Well Henry, since you don’t like this place, I can’t imagine why you went so far out of your way to bother and visit us. But since you are here, please be seated. Can I offer you any refreshments?

No need for refreshments, replied Sir Henry, as he sat down in the best chair available, I can’t stay but a moment but I have very good news for you.

And what may that be? asked Penelope.

A rather smarmy smile crossed his countenance as Sir Henry replied. Well, I ran across Sir Reginald Denvelish at one of the clubs and told him that you were now back in Town having been widowed on the Peninsula. He remembers you quite fondly from years ago and is still interested in marrying you. Made a very grand offer for your hand even though you are a widow—used merchandise after all. Nevertheless, the settlements are quite good, sets up a trust for you for life. All you need do is to sign these papers and choose the date and all will be in good order.

Penelope Brantson sat dumbfounded, looking at her brother. She could not absorb what he had just said to her. After several moments of staring at him, just blinking her eyes, she answered. You must have taken leave of your senses to even think that I would ever consider such an outlandish idea. I have no intention of remarrying—not anyone, let alone such a person as Sir Reginald Denvelish. Why he must have near 60 years in his dish. And if even half the rumors one hears about him are even close to true, he is almost a degenerate.

Sir Henry burst up out of his chair. He began pacing the floor. But you have to marry him! he yelled. There is no other way—no other way at all! I have lost everything. He is my only hope to avoid debtor’s prison. He has acquired all of the mortgages and has agreed to take care of all of my debts, as well as set you up handsomely

Sir Reginald is disgusting, Penelope, replied. Why, Papa prohibited him from addressing me and drove him off when he was hounding me before I married Adam. How can you even think that I would consider marrying him now when I have no need to do so?

What do you mean no need? Sir Henry spit out a reply, desperation apparent in his every word. You live in an abominable place like this—in near poverty. He is as rich as Golden Ball. You could have everything you ever wished for. You could move out of this hovel and have decent clothes to wear. You would have to worry about nothing, and you would keep me out of debtor’s prison besides.

You got yourself into this mess and you can get yourself out of it, Penelope snapped back. While Papa did much to destroy Hafenworth Manor, before you inherited it, it was still in fairly decent shape and marginally profitable, and there were no mortgages. Had you been content to stay there and manage it, you could have brought it back to provide a very nice income for you. But it wasn’t big enough or grand enough to suit you, so you drained it of every last groat it produced and mortgaged it to the maximum instead of making it better. The only reason that you didn’t sell it is that you think owning land somehow adds to your consequence because you don’t now, and never have, cared a mite for it. You haven’t even visited the place in years. Now, you tell me it is worth less than the mortgages, no doubt because of your horrible management. And because you can’t sell it, you now think that you can sell me instead, like a common whore, to one of the most disgusting men that I have ever met so you can stay out of prison. This is not going to happen—NEVER! If I were you, my dear brother, I would board the first ship that I could find and get out of England. Otherwise, you had best prepare yourself for debtor’s prison, because I am not going to do it.

You will do it! Or else! shouted the baronet. He moved toward Penelope and raised his arm as if he were going to strike her. But he stopped suddenly—wincing—his arm not able to execute the hard slap he intended to impart, turned on his heel, and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him so hard that the whole house shook. The whole house shook again when he slammed the outer door as well.

When the door slammed for the second time, Penelope turned toward her companion with tears running down her face and remarked sadly, Who does my brother think he is that he can command me into what could only be a truly disastrous marriage? Has he absolutely no respect for me that he would all but sell me to Sir Reginald?

Sarah had been sitting quietly in a corner of the room during the whole time of Sir Hafenworth’s tirade, so shocked and appalled by his words that she decided that it was best not to reply to Penelope’s questions. She moved over to her friend, sat next to her, held her hand and continued to say nothing.

Finally Sarah spoke, I was so afraid. I thought that he was going to strike you, and I don’t know what I would have done if he had.

No doubt he would have if he could, answered Penelope. However, one night when he was drunk, he fell off a horse and he can’t lift his arm because of the injury. Then she covered her face with her hands and wept.

Chapter 4

Thomas was not happy. He had only been employed in this household for a short while (five weeks to be exact), and while there were many good points about his employer, there were many strange things as well. His Lordship had many fine—actually outstanding—garments in his wardrobe, and the Major’s dress uniforms were of the finest fabrics and had the tailoring of an expert, so perfectly did they fit. Yet on this morning, as on so many others, his employer had chosen a greyish brown coat of sub-par fabric and trousers that didn’t quite match and were cut so loosely that they hid his well-muscled physique. And to make matters worse, the Major had prohibited his new valet from shaving him for the past two days; he looked rather unkempt and scruffy. Thomas knew that valets were judged by their masters, and he felt that this new master, Lord or no, was certainly not going to bring any credit to him. Even though the Major was the youngest brother of the Marquess of Thornbourgh, and Thomas had previously been a part of the Marquess’ household before being placed in the Major’s service by the Marquess himself, he didn’t like some of the strange goings on in this household. Aside from the strange way the Major often dressed—like today for example—there were odd happenings in this household. The Major often disappeared for days at a time without telling Thomas where he was going or when he would be back. And when he returned, he was not wearing the same clothes that he had worn when he left. Furthermore, he gave his valet no explanation of what happened to his other clothing. Thomas felt that as the Major’s valet, he, of all persons should know what was going on, and he was quite miffed that he didn’t. Still, he was most uncomfortable with the idea of reporting to the Marquess what he felt was a slight to his competence and consequence.

Major Lord Evan Anthony Gwythyr Caldwell gazed at himself in the cheval glass, and despite the very obvious disapproval of his valet, he was quite pleased with his own appearance. He needed to blend in unobtrusively with what he thought of as the scaff and raff of London because he had an assignation with one of their kind, and he thought that his current appearance filled the bill nicely. He believed that his disapproving valet was not only in his employ, but was also in the employ of his oldest brother, the Marquess of Thornbourgh. Evan knew that it was grossly improper of his brother to employ such a tactic but he allowed it because he believed that at some time in the future it might be useful. If and when he deemed that not to be true, he would stand face to face with the valet and demand in no uncertain terms that he choose his loyalties. There was absolutely no question—Evan would employ no disloyal servants!

A light tap on the door interrupted the thoughts of both valet and master. After being told to enter, the little house maid curtseyed demurely and announced, My Lord, the Marquess has sent a footman bearing a message for you. He says that he must return with an answer and refuses to leave without delivering the message to you in person.

Drat it, answered Evan. Why didn’t you tell him I was out of town?

I did that, my Lord, the little maid answered with tears in her eyes, but he is much bigger than me and he insisted that I was lying and demanded that he see you at once. He is a most demanding person, my Lord.

Evan sighed in exasperation, glared at the mousy little maid and responded, Well, I suppose there is nothing to be done but to see him. Damnation! Show him in.

The maid curtseyed and very quickly left the chambers. She returned shortly with the Marquess’ footman and departed. When the footman saw his Lordship’s unkempt appearance, he was taken aback, but he recovered quickly and handed him the sealed note.

Evan took the note and looked at the fine white paper and the wax seal indented with the Marquess’ crest. Just like my brother, he mumbled; has to use his seal on a simple note. Some days you would think he is a royal prince rather than a mere Marquess. The valet and the footman both raised their eyebrows at the reference to his older brother as a ‘mere Marquess’—the terms mere and Marquess hardly seeming to be appropriate when mentioned together.

Evan opened the envelope and read the note.

DRAT! And double drat, expounded Evan. "Does my brother really think that I am able to drop everything at a moment’s notice to jump to his beck and call? Well, I can’t. Man, I’m sorry but I don’t know your name; oh but it is James, isn’t it? (Evan was able to remember that the footman’s name was James because, as was the habit of the time in many of the great houses, all of the footmen were addressed by the same name—in the Marquess’ residences, it was James.) Well James, you will have to tell my brother that this afternoon is absolutely impossible. He will just have to wait. It will be this day next week—at the very earliest. As Evan turned and looked at the aghast expression on the footman’s face, as well as the expression of his valet, he realized that he could not depend on the man to do any such thing. None of them would dare tell such an exalted personage as the Marquess of Thornbourgh that someone who was only a major in His Majesty’s Army was unable to comply with his wishes.

He sighed again and said, "I guess that I will have to tell him myself in writing. Thomas, have the maid take James to the kitchen and provide him with some ale. He looks like he needs some fortification even to face my brother with a note, let alone to actually speak to him. Then fetch some paper for me, if you please, and a decent quill as well. Good grief, man, don’t looked so shocked. How would you respond to what appears to be a summons from your brother? He is my brother, after all, not God."

As Thomas left to retrieve paper from the library, he responded, I don’t have a brother, my Lord, and even if I did, HE would not be a MARQUESS. He emphasized the word Marquess as if indeed a Marquess, if not actually God, was only a half-step away from the heavenly throne.

When the valet left, Evan shook his head and mumbled to himself. I think that the Home Secretary has a greater claim on my time than my brother, even if he just happens to be one of those exalted Marquesses.

When the valet returned shortly with paper and quill, Evan quickly penned the response to his brother.

My Dear Thornbourgh,

It is with great regret that pending matters (which I am sure that you will understand) on my schedule will not allow me to meet with you this afternoon. I doubt that I will be available before this day next week. I will be in touch with you as soon as possible.

By the way, I hope it is convenient for you but I may have urgent need of a mermaid.

Yours,

Gwythyr

Evan quickly scanned the letter, folded it, sealed it and summoned the footman to take it back to the Marquess.

When the footman took the letter, knowing that it was not what the Marquess desired or expected, he acted as if the paper would burn his fingers.

Evan, seeing his response, interjected, Don’t look so downhearted, James. My brother will understand why I am unable to comply with his wishes. He knows what I do. Now be off with you. He will blame me, not you, in any event.

With this distraction out of the way, Evan took a final look at his appearance and dismissed his valet with the specific instructions not to expect him back for several days. As the valet left the room, Thomas was mumbling under his breath about how his employer could consider leaving for several days without taking his valet and without even a change of clothing to replace the despicable garments that he was currently wearing. When he was sure the valet had gone, Evan opened a cabinet with the key that he always kept on a chain around his neck. He removed two pistols, checked to insure that they were loaded, and placed them in the pockets in his coat designed especially for that purpose. He also took two deadly looking daggers off of a shelf. He placed the larger of the two in the sheath built into his boot and the smaller in a sheath strapped to his wrist. Lastly, he removed a heavy cane with a most unique handle, a silver globe of the world. Satisfied that he was now ready, he let himself out of his back door and, making sure that no one was there, slipped silently into the alley way behind his lodgings that led to the mews. As he did so, he adopted his invisible persona.

It was amazing. He had the ability to make himself virtually disappear. Even he did not know exactly how he accomplished it. But in the guise of this persona, he had walked past some of his very closest acquaintances and they not only did not recognize him, but seemed not even to see him. My goodness, not so much as a week past, he had managed to walk past his own half-brother without being recognized. And today, it was very important that he not be seen.

Chapter 5

James knocked softly on the Marquess’ library door and entered when bidden to do so. He approached the desk with trepidation knowing the answer that was in the note that he handed to his employer. The Marquess read the note carefully twice then he folded it and laid it carefully on his desk. He looked up at the footman and said, "Thank you James. Will you please get Geoffers, my head groom, to come up here? Tell him it is important and to get here immediately. Then if Lord Jonathon is still in the house, ask him if it is convenient for him to see me. But make sure that you get Geoffers first.

James was surprised that the Marquess was not angry with his brother’s reply but he still thought it was best to remove himself from the Marquess’ presence before he could