to speak out against Lizzy’s marriage. Their mother would not hear of it. For years Charlotte had suffered with guilt that she could have done more to stop the marriage. She had been newly married herself then and Jonathan advised her not to approach her father on the issue. She had often wondered if she had, would it have made a difference. Whoever this man was, Lizzy deserved him. She deserved to fall in love with that one person who would make her life so much better just by being in it—everyone did.
They were leaving for Charlotte’s home in Cheshire in a few days, so Lizzy could begin her full mourning period away from the tempting entertainments of London. She was relieved her sister agreed that, if she remained in Town reading newspaper accounts of all the balls, routs and dinners that she was missing, she would be miserable. Now they had months to spend together again. And when Lizzy returned to Town, Charlotte was certain there would be no stopping her sister from trying to win the gentleman who stood somewhere behind them.
Four months later...
Andrew stood outside Gabriel’s study and knocked on the large mahogany door. There was a time when he wouldn’t have had to wait for approval to enter, but since his brother had reconciled with his wife a little less than a year ago, Andrew had got into the habit of knocking. At the muffled sound of Gabriel’s response, he turned the handle and walked into the room.
His brother was seated at his massive desk and his attention was on a piece of paper resting on its surface, while he absently ran his fingers through his short light brown hair. Andrew sank into the well-cushioned chair across from him and held back a yawn. Gabriel barely acknowledged him since he was so engrossed in the task at hand. As the head of an organisation that protected the King and Prince Regent, as well as being a Member of Parliament, it wasn’t uncommon for Gabriel to be in the middle of something when Andrew entered his study.
After a few more minutes, Gabriel looked up and arched his brow. ‘Hell, man, you look awful.’
Andrew had ridden back to London in the early morning hours from Windsor and he hadn’t had any sleep. ‘I realise I’m not as impeccably attired as you, but I do believe awful is an exaggeration.’
‘I wasn’t referring to what you are wearing. I was referring to those bloodshot eyes you can’t seem to keep open and the shave you desperately need.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘You need sleep.’
Andrew waved the suggestion away. His leather glove rubbed against the cut on his right hand, irritating it through the bandage. As he removed both gloves, Gabriel’s keen eyes focused on the cotton strip.
‘How did you get that?’
‘A knife fight at Windsor. It’s small.’
‘How will you explain that one away?’
‘I box regularly at Jackson’s. There are times I like to bare-knuckle brawl. It’s well known. No one questions my scars.’
‘You once told Nicholas ladies like men with scars. He was eager to inform me of that bit of wisdom.’
‘The ladies I associate with do.’
‘However, not the ladies my six-year-old son does. I received word Kempt is now under guard in the Tower. Excellent work bringing him in.’
‘It wasn’t easy, but it made for an interesting day.’ He raised his bandaged hand to show how interesting it had been to capture the would-be assassin of King George. Andrew tilted his head in an attempt to read the papers on Gabriel’s desk.
His brother turned the stack over.
‘What else do you have for me to do? There must be some interrogation you can use my assistance on or a lead you need me to follow.’
‘I have nothing for you.’
That wasn’t possible. ‘You have nothing or nothing for me.’
‘Nothing for you at the moment. Enjoy some time to avoid knife fights and pursue your own interests.’
‘Knife fights are an interest of mine.’
‘Then go find other ones. You’ve been working for months without stop. When was the last time you spent a significant amount of time simply going wherever the day takes you, doing whatever you want to do?’
‘I would grow bored.’
‘You might find that you don’t.’
‘Are you trying to get rid of me?’
‘I am trying to ensure you do not drop from exhaustion or get injured because you have overtaxed yourself.’
‘If this is about my hand, I—’
‘This isn’t about your hand, Andrew. Although, move your fingers so I can be sure it’s not seriously damaged under that bandage.’
Andrew shoved his hand towards Gabriel and clenched it into a fist before opening it up and wiggling his fingers. It hurt like hell, but he’d be damned if he’d let his brother know.
‘When was the last time you went and visited a friend?’ Gabriel asked, pushing his chair away from his desk.
‘I went with Hart to the races not long ago.’
‘I meant with someone removed from what we do—outside London.’
‘Why would anyone want to go outside London? There is more to do here than anywhere else in the world.’
‘There are times it’s important to disengage from our work and give your mind and your nerves time to settle. You’ll be more effective for it.’
‘I wouldn’t know what to do.’
‘Isn’t there someone you’d like to see that you haven’t because you have not had the time?’
Andrew dropped his head back and stared at the coffered ceiling in Gabriel’s study, trying to think of anyone whose company he enjoyed enough to leave London. ‘Toby Knightly and I still write to one another. Do you remember him from Cambridge?’
Gabriel nodded. ‘Did you not share a room together?’
‘We did. He’s an out and outer and has been after me to visit him in Cheshire.’
‘Then go to Cheshire.’
A sly smile lifted Andrews lips. ‘You know there has been unrest in the north.’
‘Yes, I know. But you are not going there because of the unrest. You are going there because you need rest and visiting with Toby will be enjoyable.’
‘How do you know it will be enjoyable?’
‘Hell, man, just go!’
‘You will not give me another mission until I take my
