Page 93 of What's an Earl Gotta Do?
“You do?” Mr. Hewitt said, his head snapping toward Michael. “I mean, good. Once he is located, we shall question him.”
Michael leaned in, causing Mr. Hewitt to recoil. “I believe what you meant to say is that Bow Street will therefore exhaust every effort to locate Gladstone. What have you done so far?”
Mr. Hewitt looked affronted. “We have questioned his servants, as well as his particular friend Lord Scudamore.”
“Did you speak with Mrs. Mariah Brownlee, who is his aunt? With Lord Ryland, his godfather? He’s also good friends with Andrew Tomlinson, Matthew Beckett, and Percival Thistlethwaite. I’m given to understand he boxes at Gentleman Jackson’s, gambles at Brooks’s, and takes coffee every afternoon at the Cocoa Tree. If I was able to learn all of that with a single note sent to a mutual friend, imagine what leads the famed investigators of Bow Street will be able to uncover if they give the matter the proper attention.”
Mr. Hewitt was scowling, but he pulled out a sheet of paper and took up a quill. “Would you mind repeating all of that, my lord?”
A few minutes later, having extracted a promise from Mr. Hewitt to send a runner ’round to question Lord Gladstone’s intimates, Michael handed Anne into her carriage and climbed in behind her. “What a windbag,” he grumbled.
Anne slumped against the cushions. She was trying to keep up hope, trying not to listen to that little voice in the back of her head kept saying none of it mattered because Nick was probably dead. “I’m used to much worse.”
“I don’t see how you hold your tongue.”
“Out of necessity, more than anything. No one would donate to the Ladies’ Society if I said what I was really thinking. I constantly remind myself to hold my temper. But I do appreciate the way you supported me.”
Michael took her hand in his. “Of course. It is my intention to support you every single day for the rest of our lives.”
Anne swallowed. That sounded wonderful, truth be told. It had been less than a week since his return, but already she had grown so used to having Michael in her life again. She didn’t know how she was going to survive without him.
Don’t think about that now.
“Thank you, Michael. What do you have planned for today? My mother has invited us to dinner tonight. I need to spend today getting caught up on Ladies’ Society business. I hate to even imagine the mountain of correspondence I’m bound to have.”
“You receive a lot of mail, then?”
“I do.”
“And you handle it all yourself?”
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
“I’ve been trying to figure out how we’re going to make things work when we’re married—”
“If we marry,” she amended.
“When we’re married,” he said, giving her his full Obstinate Face, “and there are a few questions I need to ask you.”
Anne gestured for him to proceed.
“You see,” Michael said, “I had always assumed I knew what you wanted your future to be like. I see now that there’s been a lot I’ve missed. Perhaps your wishes have changed over the years. So, let there be no further confusion between us. When we were younger, we always used to talk about all the adventures we wanted to have, the places we wanted to go, the things we wanted to see.” He smiled wistfully. “When I was passing through Niagara, all I could think about was how much you’d always wanted to see the Falls.”
Anne grabbed his forearm. “Did you truly see Niagara Falls? What was it like, Michael? Is it as spectacular as everyone says?”
“It’s almost indescribable. It kicks up so much water, you get soaked to the skin just looking at it.” His smile was wistful. “I stared at it for hours while I was waiting for that last ferry to take me to my uncle, wishing so badly you were there with me.” He cleared his throat. “I take it that you still want to see Niagara Falls?”
“Yes.”
“And the lakes?”
“Yes.”
“And the northern lights?”
“Yes.”
“And yet, you will never see any of those things if you continue with your current schedule.”
