Page 12 of Wicked with Him

Given her brother was prowling London with a perpetually sour face, he thought perhaps he didn’t know her whereabouts either.

The night after he’d ruined Amity Sweet, Roman had presented himself at George’s door and gone through the motions of his demand to be repaid for debts outstanding. George had blustered about paying, of course, and being too busy to bother with him. Because he didn’t pay, a wager had been placed in White’s betting book, as planned, causing George considerable embarrassment when he learned of it.

But payment had arrived promptly after that, delivered by so haggard a man-of-business that he was offered a chair and ale and encouragement to unburden himself.

That man of business now worked for Roman, lured not only by an increase in pay and a fine chamber to call his own, but because his efforts were appreciated by a kinder new master who did not yell or throw things across the room.

From the man-of-business, Roman learned that George was still looking for the scoundrel who had ruined his sister. Given all the man couldn’t say about Amity’s whereabouts, Roman had grown considerably worried about her welfare and eager to learn her location finally today.

He winced. He was a damn fool to be so worried about a woman he’d made love to only once. Amity had brought this scandal upon herself, and yet he couldn’t help but be concerned that he hadn’t lain eyes on her since. In frustration, Roman had come to his friend’s home in the hope of prying some gossip out of Stratford Sweet over drinks that afternoon.

Stratford had always loved to share tidbits of family gossip with him when they were out and drinking together. Amity might not need Roman’s help at all, but he felt he ought to be sure that was the case.

He paced the Ravenswood front hall. He was truly worried about what George Sweet might do when he got his hands on Amity again. The more Roman learned of Sweet’s ill temper, the more concerned he became. If Amity ever returned to live under her brother’s roof, he might make her life a misery…and there wasn’t a damn thing that could be done when her family considered her property.

“Crawford?”

Roman looked up into the Earl of Fairbridge’s cool gaze.

He quickly bowed to the higher-ranked man. “My lord.”

The earl consulted his pocket watch. “Did we have a meeting scheduled today?”

“Not with you. I was just waiting for your younger brother to join me. For Stratford,” he added for clarity, since the earl had other brothers.

“You’ll be waiting a long time if you linger here.” Fairbridge studied him for a long time. Then he tilted his head toward the stairs. “Stratford’s chamber is upstairs, first door to the right of the staircase. When he’s awake enough to understand, tell him I need a word with him as soon as possible.”

He’d known Stratford Sweet a long time but had never been invited anywhere beyond the lower rooms either. “Oh, right. Thank you. I’ll tell him to hurry right down.”

“I knew I could depend on you not to disappointment me,” Fairbridge murmured.

Roman moved to the stairs, taking in his surroundings as he went and trying to slow his thudding heart. There was no reason Fairbridge should suspect him of ruining Amity, but he couldn’t subdue the fear of exposure being around any of the Sweet gentlemen.

He glanced over his shoulder as he was going up and spotted Fairbridge watching him ascend the stairs. Roman’s skin crawled with guilt. He hoped to God the earl never did figure out who’d ruined his cousin. Fairbridge wouldn’t shoot or maim him in a duel of honor. He’d make them marry each other, no matter how miserable Roman might make Amity.

And Amity had been adamant she did not want him for a husband.

Roman found Stratford’s door and, after a quick knock from which he heard nothing, he let himself into the room. He found his friend sprawled face down across his bed, half dressed, one of his boots still on.

Roman tapped his shoulder. “Fairbridge sent me up to wake you.”

Stratford burst upright, blinking sleep from his eyes and looking around in fright. “I didn’t do it!”

Roman chuckled and threw open the drapes, letting in the sun to warm the room. “You probably did and just don’t remember the particulars, like you always don’t upon first waking.”

Stratford squinted at him. “That was uncalled for.”

“The truth hurts,” Roman teased with a grin. He’d spent enough time around Stratford to know he could say such things and get away with it if they were alone. Stratford had the most dreadful memory. Everyone knew that, and Roman would use his forgetfulness today to explain his presence. “I believe you wanted to see me.”

“Did I?”

Roman nodded. “You sent word we were to meet this morning.”

“When? Oh, right. I did. Yes. Now I remember.” But he didn’t seem at all certain.

Roman nodded again. “Have you asked me to come just to wake you up?”

“No, I…” Stratford thought a moment, and then pointed at Roman. “Hey, you left me!”