“IT’S ABOUT TIME you deigned to make an appearance.” Sir Archibald—although Effie could never quite think of him as Sir anything, as they’d known each other since they were children—rose to his feet behind his desk and glared.
“Good afternoon to you too, Archie.” Effie pulled off her gloves and handed them to the butler, who nodded and promptly took his leave.
“I sent a note to you yesterday, asking you to call on me.”
“It was more in the nature of a command rather than a request. I do not take well to commands. You may ask William if you have any doubt about that.”
“I know exactly what he’d say. Poor chap,” he added under his breath.
“My husband is the luckiest man on the face of the earth and he would be the first to tell you that.” Effie ignored the chairs in front of the desk in favor of the sofa facing the fireplace. She was not about to give Archie the upper hand by sitting in a position designed to intimidate the unsuspecting. “As you know full well.”
“You have the man under some sort of spell.”
She cast him a smug smile.
“Witchcraft, Effie. I have always suspected it of you.” He circled his desk and headed to a sidebar, where a decanter of something amber and two glasses waited on a silver tray. “Scottish whiskey?”
“Goodness, Archie, it’s barely past three o’clock.”
“Would you prefer sherry then?”
“Don’t be absurd.” She scoffed. “And I was busy yesterday.” She hadn’t been but she and Poppy had been waiting for Gwen to return home from her chaperone duties. From what Gwen said, there was definitely something simmering between Anabel and Wesley, although Anabel did seem unusually reserved. Tonight, Poppy would accompany them to the Winter Exhibition at the Dudley Gallery and walk the fine line between discretely leaving the couple alone and trying to find out as much as possible as to what the two were thinking about each other.
“How is the colonel?” He handed her a glass and then settled himself on the other end of the sofa.
“Oh, he’s off in Africa somewhere with Sir Charles and Mr. Fitzhew-Wellmore. None of them are especially good at correspondence. But I do think any day I don’t get word of his death is a good one.” She raised her glass to her old friend and then took a sip.
Archie chuckled.
“I’m quite serious about that.” She, Gwen and Poppy had long ago come to terms with the fact that they had each married men who pursued adventure under the guise of knowledge. Sir Charles and Malcomb Fitzhew-Wellmore had spent their lives wandering the far-flung unexplored corners of the world. William had been an officer in the service of Her Majesty until a few years ago, when he too began joining expeditions to who knew where. This was the second time all three men had set off together, and all three had privately said to their wives that this might well be their last exploit. Effie and her friends weren’t quite sure if they were delighted or apprehensive. After all, they’d spent most of their lives rather independently, without a husband in residence.
“William says he’s going to give up his adventures and stay at home soon. I’m delighted of course.” She took another sip. “Although I do hope I can stand it.”
“I suspect that will be a challenge for the both of you.”
“If you summoned me here for some sort of favor, insults are not the way to achieve that.”
“It was meant as a compliment.”
She raised a skeptical brow.
“I do need your help.” He paused. “If I’m not mistaken, you knew Reginald Everheart.”
“Indeed, I did.” She took another sip. “Rather well really.”
“Did you meet his son at the Explorers Club the other night?”
So this was what Archie’s summons was about. “I did.”
Archie leaned forward in his chair and pinned her with a steely look. “Is Wesley Everheart his son?”
She ignored it. “Why do you ask?”
“Anabel is quite taken with him.” He shook his head. “I had hoped she’d marry Douglas Reed. I’d planned to announce it at our Christmas Eve ball. Fine man, Reed.”
“No doubt.” She swirled the amber liquid in her glass. “Dare I assume she does not wish to marry Mr. Reed?”
“She says no woman should be forced to marry a man she doesn’t wish to marry,” he muttered.
“She’s right.”
“But she’s almost twenty-one. Douglas might be her last chance.”
“Oh, I doubt that.”
“She’s known Douglas most of her life and I know she likes him.”
“Perhaps she wants more than to merely like the man she marries.” She paused. It might not be entirely fair to bring his late wife into the conversation, but she would have been the first to approve. “Perhaps she wants what you and Evangeline had.”
“Evangeline and I were both sensible and married who we were expected to marry,” he said staunchly.
“And had fallen in love with each other long before you wed.”
“That’s beside the point.”
“It’s entirely the point.”
“I can’t force her to marry, although I suppose I can threaten to cut her off. Anabel would not take well to poverty. But in a few months, she’ll be twenty-one and will receive a tidy fortune from her mother’s family. She’ll be financially independent.” He sighed. “As much as I worry about her future, I won’t force her to marry against her will.” He sighed again. “Douglas really is an excellent match.”
“Not if Anabel doesn’t think so.”
“I fear she has her eye on Mr. Everheart. He’s an extremely likable young man. In fact, I like him quite a lot.” His expression darkened. “But I don’t know anything about him.” He pinned her with a determined look. “Is he or is he not the son of Reginald Everheart?”
She met his gaze directly. “I really couldn’t say.”
“But you knew Everheart.”
“We’ve established that,” she said coolly. “However, as the man resided in America, I never met his family. I understand he did have a number of children.” Effie sent a silent request for forgiveness heavenward, but surely a few minor lies about a fictional creation would be forgiven in pursuit of a noble cause.
“I need a rather important favor.”
“Oh good, I was hoping you did.”
He drew a deep breath. “I want you to investigate Mr. Everheart.”
“Me?” Effie resisted the urge to chortle with delight. “Why don’t you do it?”
He shook his head. “Because Anabel would never forgive me if she learned I was looking into the man she may well have fallen in love with.”
“But why me?”
“Because I trust you. Because you have Anabel’s best interests at heart. Because she hardly knows you and would never suspect you of investigating her suitor. Because you’re the only one I know who actually knew Reginald Everheart, and if this man isn’t his son, who better to discover that—to defend his reputation against an imposter—than his friend.”
“Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore knew him far better than I.” It did seem necessary to protest a little.
“Good, then she can help you, and your friend Lady Blodgett can assist you, as well.” He narrowed his eyes. “You know people, Effie, and those you don’t, your friends probably do. I suspect you can find out the truth about Mr. Everheart with very little effort.”
“I have much better things to do than be your errand boy.” She sniffed in feigned indignation. “I have dozens of things to attend to. Christmas is right around the corner, you know.”
“I am well aware of that.” He stood and crossed the room to refill his glass. “I’m usually an excellent judge of character, but the future of my eldest daughter is at stake. I need something more than my own sense of a man’s nature before I can approve this match.” He returned to his seat with the decanter and topped off her glass. “Did I mention he has asked for her hand?”
“No, you didn’t, and that does seem significant.” But was that part of their ruse? Gwen insisted the way Wesley looked at Anabel went far beyond a mere act. “Are you certain you wish me to undertake this little project of yours?”
He nodded.
“I might need to hire someone...”
“I shall pay for any and all expenses you might incur.”
“Well...” She considered her old friend for a long moment. Archie was only trying to do what he thought was best for his daughter. One really couldn’t fault him for that. And when all was said and done, he was right—Wesley Everheart was not who he said he was. But he was a decent sort, financially sound, vouched for by his uncle and gallant enough to help out a woman who had needed help. He really was an excellent match for Anabel. And the step between pretending to be in love and actually falling in love was a tiny one under the right circumstances. Besides, it was far better that she handle the matter rather than allow Archie to hire someone who might actually uncover the truth.
“Very well then, I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Thank you, Effie.” He raised his glass to her. “I shall be eternally in your debt.
“Do remember that, Archie.” She cast him a smug smile. “Someday, I shall no doubt need your assistance.”
“When that day comes, it will be my honor.” He fell into a thoughtful silence. “Are the other two going to be this much trouble?”
“Oh, I would count on it if I were you.” She paused. “You do need to understand that a woman should marry when—and whom—she wishes.”
“I don’t like it,” he said under his breath. “Why, in my day...”
She laughed. “Your day is long gone, as is mine.” She reached over and patted his hand. “You don’t have to like it, Archie, but the twentieth century is within sight. The world is changing whether we want it to or not.”
“Perhaps,” he muttered.
“You are a cranky old beast.”
“And you are—”
Her brow shot upward.
“—as forthright and clever and kind as you were when you were a girl.” He grinned. “And might I add as lovely as you were then, too. You haven’t changed a bit.”
“And your lies are every bit as delightful now as they were when we were young.”
He chuckled. “William really is a lucky man.”
She sipped her whiskey and smiled. “I know.”