Greg needed to be off to Tattersalls in the hopes that a decent stud and a handful of mares might catch his eye today as he’d been fairly unlucky so far with that endeavor, but first he needed to speak with his sister. After all, if anyone could help him with his Phoebe problem, it was her. And he most definitely had a Phoebe problem.

The Clayworth butler admitted him into the house, and after inquiring about his sister’s whereabouts, Greg made his way directly to the nursery, where he discovered his sister Cordelia, the Countess of Clayworth, sitting on the floor with her son playing with a little wooden horse. “I remember when you were that small,” he said to her. “Though I think he may have you beat in temperament.”

Cordie glanced up and grinned at him, then her green eyes twinkled just so as she returned her attention to her son. “He is beyond precious, isn’t he?” she said as she rose from her spot on the floor. She smiled, tossed back her dark tresses and held out her toddler toward Greg. “Would you like to hold your temperate nephew?”

Greg eyed the golden-haired boy suspiciously. He wasn’t at all certain what to do with a creature so tiny. He probably would have been an abysmal father if Marina and their daughter had lived. But he shook that sentiment away. The last thing his sister needed was his maudlin thoughts. “I’ve had more than my share of titled lords tossing up their accounts upon me, and this one looks a little untrustworthy, to be honest.”

“Poor Julian! Did you hear what your uncle said about you?” Cordie giggled, hugging her son to her. The child grabbed a lock of Cordie’s dark hair in his pudgy fingers as she said to Greg, “But I understand your apprehension. Tristan did mention something about your boots at the Astwicks’ last night. Some Gilling-something-or-other. I’m not familiar with the name.”

Of course she wasn’t familiar with the name. Cordie kept mostly to herself and her small family these days. However, during the time when she had been a vivacious debutante, she would have never looked twice at a drunkard like Gillingham. A rogue like Haversham, sure; but not an insolvent drunkard. “I’d be happy not to hear it again, myself,” Greg grumbled. Then he shook his head. “The last thing I came to discuss today was that soused dolt.”

Her curiosity obviously piqued, Cordie furrowed her brow and jostled the child in her arms. “What did you come to discuss, then, Greg?”

“Our sister-in-law,” he confessed, hoping she would aide him. He didn’t know who else would help him if she said no. “You have to do something about Phoebe.”

“Phoebe?” Cordie shook her head. “Whatever she’s done, Tristan’s the one you should be talking to.”

“He’s no help at all.” Greg snorted. “But she’d listen to you. She always listens to you.”

His sister’s green Avery eyes seemed to assess him, something Greg found slightly unnerving. “What is she supposed to listen to me about?”

“Apparently she has it in her head that I need a wife and…” Greg sensed his brother-in-law’s judgmental presence behind him and let his words trail off. He could hear Clayworth’s uncharitable thoughts finishing the sentence, however. Preferably a wife of your own this time? Oh, the noble Earl of Clayworth never spoke such words aloud, but Greg could always see them written across the man’s brow, a constant reminder of Greg’s blaring indiscretion with Marina.

He glanced over his shoulder to find his brother-in-law standing just inside the threshold, and the earl looked far from pleased to find Greg standing before him. The feeling, as always, was mutual.

“Avery,” the earl grumbled in greeting.

“Clayworth,” he returned in kind.

Cordie released a sigh. There was no doubt in Greg’s mind that his sister wished he and Clayworth would see eye to eye one day, that they could find a way to tolerate each other’s existence. But that particular ship had sailed long ago, back before Marina had died, and it didn’t seem likely to ever return to port.

“Brendan,” Cordie began, as she brushed past Greg toward her husband. “I thought you’d left already.” Then she pressed a kiss to the earl’s cheek.

Clayworth shook his head. “Astwick cancelled. So I’m all yours this morning, mon minouche.”

“Oh Astwick!” Cordie giggled. “I am sorry we missed their ball last night. Apparently, it was the event of the Season.”

“If that was the event of the Season,” Greg muttered, “I can certainly miss the rest of it.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Clayworth cast his dismissive eye in Greg’s direction as though his comment was a slight directed toward his friend Aswtick in some way.

“Some fellow, Gilling-something, retched all over Greg’s boots last night,” Cordie explained.

“Gillingham?” The earl frowned.

“Do you know him?” Cordie asked.

Her husband shook his head. “I know the name. He’s heir apparent to the Chatham dukedom, and he’s got his vowels spread all over Town. Fellow isn’t welcome in half the clubs, last I heard.”

“Well, he certainly isn’t welcome anywhere near me,” Greg returned. “The fellow could barely stand upright last night. He had no business being anywhere near that ballroom.”

“Tris said his poor sister was mortified,” Cordie added, a slight frown on her face.

The image of the raven-haired beauty from the night before flashed in Greg’s mind. “She was his sister?” he asked aloud, before he thought the better of it.

Cordie’s dark brow lifted with curiosity. Even the little cherub in her arms stared at Greg with interest. “I’m sorry. Of whom are we speaking?”

Greg shook his head in response. Damn it all, he shouldn’t have said anything about the girl in front of his sister. Cordie would make something of it, and there was nothing to make out of anything. He’d just assumed Gillingham was courting the pretty brunette, not that he was the girl’s relation. No self-respecting lady would ask her pickled brother to escort her to a ball, after all. “No one.”

“No one?” his sister echoed, not sounding convinced in the least.

Greg heaved a sigh. “No. No one. I’m just surprised the drunkard was escorting his sister. One would think the man, no matter how ungentlemanly, would have his sister’s care in the forefront of his mind.”

“Would one?” Clayworth asked, as though unable to stop the barb from escaping his lips. It was no secret the earl thought Greg should have taken better care of Cordie when she was under his care, and on that…well, on that Greg agreed with the earl wholeheartedly. He hadn’t done his duty as far as his sister was concerned. Discovering the treatment she’d been subjected to at their mother’s hands was something that still haunted him. If he could undo the damage done, he’d do so in a heartbeat.

“Brendan,” Cordie chastised. Though there was no reason for her to do so. On this matter, her husband was completely correct.

Unapologetically, Clayworth nodded to his wife. “I think I’ll retire to my study. If you need me, you’ll know where to find me.” And then he was gone.

“I can never make amends for not being there for you, Cordie. I…well, all I can do is tell you how very sorry I am that I didn’t ensure your safety. I—”

“That’s all in the past.” Cordie reached for Greg’s hand and squeezed it gently, effectively halting his words. “But at some point, I hope you and Brendan can be in the same room without the two of you wanting to tear the other to pieces.”

Greg shook his head. “You’d be better off wishing the night sky would turn to sapphires and drop at your feet.”

His sister laughed. “Well, I’ll have you know, I can wish for a great many things, Gregory Avery. And that is now on my list.”

* * *

There were so many people milling about Hyde Park today. It was almost like a hive of energy. Bella glanced out at the sea of people. A governess chased after a little boy who darted in and out of the others out for a stroll. A trio of sisters had their heads tipped together, giggling about something. But it was a couple walking arm in arm who seemed so engrossed with each other they didn’t appear to notice anything else in the world that truly captured Bella’s interest. Their shared look, their expressions of complete devotion tugged at her heart. They were perfect.

Bella glanced back down at her sketchpad and tried very quickly to duplicate the expressions the pair wore. Her almond shaped eyes were wide and there was a particular sparkle in his blue ones.

“My lady,” her maid Mary said quietly. “Lady Felicity’s coach just arrived.”

And just that quickly, the real world came crashing back around Bella. All of her worries and anxieties for her future washed back over her.

Bella glanced toward the Park Lane entrance and spotted her friend stepping from a carriage bearing the Prestwick crest. She blew out an anxious breath, even though she was relieved to see her friend.

Bella closed her sketchpad, handed her supplies to Mary and pushed off the park bench.

Lissy waved her hand in the air, her ever-present smile upon her face. “There you are.”

Bella returned her friend’s gesture. Then she glanced back over her shoulder at her lady’s maid, and she inwardly grimaced. It would be next to impossible to keep Mary from overhearing her conversation with Lissy. Although she’d always considered Mary to be the loyalist of maids, Grandfather did pay the girl’s wages, and Bella hated to make the servant choose between her loyalties.

Feigning a cheerful smile, Bella started toward her friend, who was traveling with a maid of her own. Blast it all! It was one thing to hope Mary wouldn’t tell anything she might overhear today, and quite another to hope the same from a servant who wasn’t even in Bella’s employ.

“It is a rather perfect day for a walk,” Lissy began brightly as they started toward Rotten Row together. “I’m so glad you suggested it.”

“Me too,” Bella replied, glancing slightly behind her to see how close the two maids planned to follow. Closer than she would like, honestly. Not that she could say anything without causing undo attention, so she focused on the path before them and couldn’t help but chew her bottom lip.

She needed Lissy’s council and any help she could offer, but the awfulness of her situation still stung her heart. She would rather not have to repeat anything her Grandfather had said about her to another living soul. She rather wished she’d never heard the words herself.

Within a few moments, they joined the throng strolling the park. Bella glanced from one man to another along the path. Would Lord Peasemore do? What about Lord Haywood? Or maybe handsome Lord Ericht, she certainly wouldn’t hold his Scottishness against him, not if he’d overlook…well, everything about her; odd, as she apparently was.

“So what did Gillingham do last night that caused a scene?” Lissy asked.

Bella’s face warmed at just the memory of the previous evening. “He retched across some fellow’s boots, right in the middle of the Astwick ballroom. I won’t ever be able to show my face there again.”

Lissy gasped in response. “He didn’t!” At Bella’s nod, her friend added, “Oh, Bella, that is truly awful. Who was the fellow?”

The handsome man’s face flashed in Bella’s mind. He’d been so kind to try to steady Elliott on his feet. But the glare he cast her after Elliott had retched upon him made her wince even now. “I’m not sure. I haven’t seen him before and I’m rather certain he’d like to never see me again.”

“Well, then he’s not worthy of thinking about,” Lissy remarked practically.

And with that, Bella supposed she was in agreement. She couldn’t spend time wondering about the green-eyed gentleman when her whole future was at risk. Her whole future…Bella turned her attention back to the gentlemen walking along Rotten Row. Lord Weybourne was a friend of her cousin Chase’s, wasn’t he? No, he had a darkness about him, even if he could be brought up to scratch. Lord Glentworth, perhaps. Or possibly Mr. Parnham. Would one of them make a decent husband? And if so, how could she possibly entice one of them to offer for her, and within the next thirteen days?

Lissy bumped Bella’s shoulder with her own. “You seem a bit on edge. Is everything all right?”

Again, Bella glanced over her shoulder, hoping the two maids couldn’t hear their conversation. The two were still closer than Bella wished, so she threaded her arm through Lissy’s and drew her friend closer as they walked. “I need a husband!” Bella whispered urgently in Lissy’s ear.

A look of terror splashed across her friend’s face. “Why would you possibly want one of those horrid creatures?”

Because it was either that or end up in the Prussian countryside with her awful cousin. “Did you hear Lucinda Potts ran off to Gretna Green with Lord Brookfield?”

“I certainly hope you’re not considering something equally rash,” Lissy replied, the look of terror hadn’t dissipated one bit.

A Scottish wedding might send her grandfather straight to his grave. “I don’t know that an anvil wedding is necessary. A perfectly respectable wedding at St. George’s will suffice. But I need a husband, or in the very least, a fiancé. And I need him quickly.”

Lissy stopped mid-step, and she glanced over her shoulder toward their maids. “We’re just going to sit a while.”

Then she directed Bella toward a nearby bench.

“Sitting isn’t going to change my mind,” Bella whispered only loud enough for Lissy to hear. And it wasn’t going to change her situation either.

But Lissy shushed her, continuing to lead Bella toward the empty bench. “Rushing into a marriage is the worst possible thing you could do, Bella. You can take that from me.” Lissy dropped onto the bench and tugged Bella down beside her. “It’s one thing to turn your life over to a man you love and trust, and quite another to do so with a man you barely know.”

Which was why she so desperately needed Lissy’s help. “I don’t have a choice with the timing.” Bella met her friend’s gaze. “Besides, it’ll be better with someone I choose rather than the awful man Grandpapa has in mind for me.”

Lissy’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “Your grandfather?”

Bella nodded, relieved Lissy was beginning to see how dire her situation really was. “My cousin. Johann von Guttstadt, Count of Hellsburg.” Bella shivered at just the thought of the man. “What a perfectly apt name that is, by the way. He is most definitely a horrid creature, as you say. And not one I want to spend the rest of my life with. So I have to find a husband quickly, before Hellsburg arrives in Town.”

Lissy’s lips hardened to a straight, white line. “What about your father?”

Her father was no help at all. Bella’s heart stung a bit to think such a thing, but it was the truth and it always had been. She shook her head. “Papa has never once defied Grandpapa. Not one time.” She heaved a sigh. “So you see, I need someone to offer for me before Grandpapa declares an edict and it’s too late.”

After a moment of silence, a devious smile settled on Lissy’s lips. “You just need someone to offer for you?”

Bella nodded, feeling a bit of relief for the first time in a day. “You look like you have a plan.”

“Perhaps.” Lissy shrugged. “Your cousin, this Hellsburg fellow, he isn’t intent on staying in London, is he?”

Not likely, not if Papa’s words were true. Bella shook her head. “I believe he’ll be returning to Prussia after he visits Grandpapa.” An image of her cousin standing on the deck of a ship with Bella by his side flashed in her mind. “And I don’t want to be with him when he leaves, Lissy,” she squeaked.

“Or course not.” Lissy’s smile widened, and she looked a bit more confident than she had the moment before. “So you don’t really need a husband, just a fiancé. One you can break it off with after your cousin returns to the Continent.”

Was Lissy mad? No man worth his salt would agree to such a thing. She frowned at her friend. “Is that all? I just need a fellow who will willingly let me cry off?”

Lissy simply blinked at her as though the idea was a sound one.

“I suppose,” Bella continued, “any gentleman would gladly let me make a fool of him. Is that your idea?”

Lissy shrugged. “I’d offer up Edmund on a platter, but he’s only twelve. You don’t think your grandfather would agree to that, do you? I mean, he is already a duke. That should count for something, shouldn’t it?”

A shadow fell over the two of them, and Bella glanced up to find Viscount Carraway standing before them, an annoyed expression on his handsome face. “What’s this about Edmund?”

Oh good heavens! Bella was certain her heart stopped. Had Lord Carraway heard all of that? It was suddenly much warmer in the park, and she was certain her cheeks were as red as they’d ever been.

“Uncle Fin,” Lissy began tartly as her smile faded and she folded her arms across her middle. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” he returned calmly. “And I’m not your uncle.”

No he was Lissy’s younger half-brother’s uncle, if Bella was correct, not that she could think clearly on the subject at the moment. What if Lord Carraway had heard everything? She would die right there on that bench.

“You’re looking for me?” A false smile settled on Lissy’s face. “Come to apologize, have you?”

Apologize? Bella looked from Lissy to Carraway and back. The viscount’s dark eyes narrowed on Lissy as though he was truly at the end of his rope.

“Well, let’s have it, then. My apology,” Lissy pressed.

The viscount’s brow rose in surprise. “Don’t even think to distract me, Felicity. What are you offering up Edmund for?”

She wouldn’t tell him. Surely, she wouldn’t! Still, Bella’s heart beat at a rapid pace and she thought it quite possible she might faint right then and there if Lissy divulged even part of the truth to the angry viscount.

“Nothing that concerns you,” her friend replied waspishly, and Bella breathed a slight sigh of relief.

“On the contrary, anything that concerns Edmund, concerns me.”

Why couldn’t he leave well enough alone? Bella fidgeted in her seat, wringing her hands in her lap. “Honestly, it’s nothing, Lord Carraway. We’re just being silly.”

“Silly, I believe.” The viscount’s dark gaze never wavered from Lissy. “I sent you a note this morning.”

“Did you?”

“You know I did. You had a footman return it. Unopened.”

“Highly improper to send a girl who isn’t your niece a note, my lord. And I know how you regard propriety above all things,” Lissy returned rather smugly. “Do you—”

“As your brother’s guardian,” he cut her off, “I believe I’m granted some leeway in regard to my correspondence with you, my lady.”

“Oh?” Lissy blinked up at him. “Has something happened with Edmund?”

The viscount’s eyes darted from Lissy to Bella and back again. “Might I have a word with you alone?”

“Very well.” Lissy heaved a sigh as she pushed off the bench. “I’ll be back in a moment, Bella.”

Lord Carraway offered his arm to Lissy, which she begrudgingly took and let him lead her toward a copse of trees a few feet away. Bella couldn’t hear a word of their conversation, but it seemed as though the two were quarreling, which was odd. Bella never thought of Lissy as quarrelsome in the least. In fact, she was always the most cheerful of Bella’s former schoolmates.

The viscount said something that made Lissy pout. That couldn’t be good whatever it was. Hopefully, he wasn’t putting her in temper. Lissy wouldn’t be able to think clearly if he was, and if ever Bella needed her friend to think clearly, it was now. A moment later, after what seemed like a short, heated exchange, Lissy tipped her nose in the air and spun around back toward Bella.

Lord Carraway reached for Lissy’s arm, but she yanked it out of his grasp, and the viscount fell forward, right onto his hands and knees in the middle of the park.

Goodness! Bella gasped, as did a fair number of others nearby. Lissy didn’t even slow her gait, however, not stopping until she reached Bella’s bench.

“Heavens, Lissy!” Bella touched a hand to her heart. “Did you see Lord Carraway?”

“Come along, Bella,” Lissy said, reaching her hands out to her. “I think I know someone who will help us.”

Oh that was wonderful news! “You do?” Bella rose to her feet. “Who?”

“Cordie Clayworth,” Lissy returned, threading her arm through Bella’s. “She and her husband are fairly close to the Marquess of Haversham. And if there’s a fellow who has no need of a wife, it’s Haversham.”

That was Lissy’s grand idea? Bella thought she might be ill. “Haversham?” she echoed. One of the most depraved and notorious rakes to ever step foot in London?

Lissy shrugged. “I’d wager he could be convinced to help one way or another.”

That was beside the point. He was wholly unacceptable. “Even if he could be convinced, I doubt Papa would accept an offer from him.”

But her friend didn’t seem to be swayed by that argument. “Cordie has a calm head. She’ll help us come up with something.”

“I don’t know,” Bella hedged. “I don’t really know Lady Clayworth very well.” And she couldn’t ask such a favor from a mere acquaintance. Even acquaintance was a stretch. She seemed to remember that she was at some garden party with the countess the previous season, but they didn’t even speak.

Again, Lissy seemed unconcerned with the particulars as she grinned from ear to ear. “Well, luckily, I do. She’s one of my dearest friends and she possesses a most devious mind.”

“And you think she’ll help me?” If she could help, if Lissy seemed certain the countess could be counted on, Bella did need whatever help she could get. Her allies, thus far, hadn’t helped her cause in the least.