The Bride Hunt Read Free Page A

it was for services to the king . . . one of His Majesty’s friends found himself in a spot of bother, you know the kind.” He tapped the side of his nose significantly.
    “Malvern defended him . . . man came out smelling like a rose garden. But I’ll wager you haven’t heard of him either, for all the royal connections. They say he’s the brightest candle in the Inns of Court sconce these days. Man’s far too busy to mingle.”
    He set down his glass and rose rather heavily to his feet. “Well, I have to dress, I’m dining with Barclay in Rules. Must show solidarity, you know. Can’t let this kind of . . .” He waved a disdainful hand at the
Gazette.
“Spiteful rubbish . . . that’s all it is. Can’t let that rubbish win the day over honest men.” He dropped a paternal kiss on each forehead and left them.
    “Honest men,”
Prudence said with heavy scorn, taking her glass to the decanter for a refill. “It’s not as if Father’s either blind or stupid. What is it about Barclay that so captivates him?”
    “Oh, I think it has something to do with the fact that the earl was there when Mother died,” Chastity said quietly, gazing into the fire. “Father was distraught, and so were we. Distraught and exhausted after nursing her those last few months.”
    Prudence nodded, crossing her arms over her chest in an involuntary hug. Their mother’s final days had been excruciatingly painful, and all the laudanum available to them hadn’t been sufficient to ease her suffering. Lord Duncan hadn’t been able to bear his wife’s pain and had retreated to his library, where Lord Barclay had kept him company while Lord Duncan’s daughters had shared vigils at their mother’s bedside. They had had no energy to spare for their father’s grief—not until many months later, by which time Lord Barclay had become Lord Duncan’s most intimate confidant.
    Prudence let her arms drop and raised her head. “Well, there’s nothing we can do to change that now. Let’s see what we can discover about this Sir Gideon Malvern.”
    “If he’s made King’s Council, he has to be at the top of the tree,” Chastity said. “I wonder what it means to be the youngest KC in a decade.”
    “We need a recent copy of
Who’s Who,
” Prudence said. “At least that’ll tell us which of the Inns of Court he’s affiliated with. The volume in our library is decades old; it probably predates his law degree. We’ll go to Hatchards in the morning and take a quick look under the M’s.”
    “
Who’s Who
won’t give us an address, though.”
    “No, but once we know which of the Inns he belongs to, we can go there and find his chambers. I’m sure if he’s that important and well-known he’ll have chambers somewhere around the Temple.”
    “But we can’t just beard him in his chambers,” Chastity pointed out. “I thought we had to go through the proper channels, get solicitors to brief him.”
    Prudence shook her head. “I think if we have any chance at all of getting his help we’re going to have to jump him . . . surprise him. If we give him time to think for one instant, he’ll laugh us into the street.”
    “‘Be bloody, bold, and resolute,’ ” Chastity quoted with an upraised fist.
    “‘Laugh to scorn the power of man,’ ” her sister continued.
    “If only,” Chastity said, getting to her feet. “We’ll go to Hatchards first thing in the morning.” She stretched tiredly. “I’m hungry and it’s nearly eight. Shall we go and eat shepherd’s pie?”
    “I wonder what Con’s eating for dinner,” Prudence mused as she accompanied her sister downstairs.
    “Goats’ eyeballs,” Chastity said promptly. “I read that’s what the Bedouin nomads eat in the Sahara.”
    “Oh, I can imagine Max’s reaction faced with a goat’s eyeball. Can’t you, Jenkins?” Prudence took her seat in the small dining parlor they used when they were alone.
    “As I understand it, Miss Prue, the eyeballs of sheep are a