Having made the decision to search for Mavis Newbolt himself, it was quickly brought home to Duncan how futile it was going to be when he began gathering information before he left Summers Glade, and counted up the many addresses involved that were spread all across the country. Ironically, Ophelia had supplied most of those addresses, including those of Mavis’s close friends, who would hopefully all be in London, because even they had other addresses in other towns, any one of which Mavis might be visiting.

Knowing full well that he wouldn’t be able to get to every residence in the few days he had left, he needed to decide which ones might gain him the most information the quickest, or if he got lucky, Mavis herself. Since it wasn’t a decision he could easily make, though, when he didn’t know any of the people involved, he sought out someone who was sure to know more than he.

He found Raphael easily enough; in fact, the duke’s son had been looking for him as well, or implied as much when he said, “You’ll be devastated, I know, to be tendered my adieu, but all good things—or bad, as it were, must come to an end. And yes, I’m sure you need an interpretation for that, so in other words, I’m about to take myself back to London. This place has become much too depressing. You’d think a funeral were pending, rather than a wedding.”

“I canna argue that,” Duncan replied. “I’m leaving for London myself and wanted to ask—”

“Flying the coop, are you?” Rafe cut in. “My, my, didn’t think you’d take that route.”

Duncan bristled, but needing the man’s opinion, kept that to himself. “Nor am I. I’m going tae search for Mavis Newbolt, the lass that holds the scandal in her hands. She’s the only one who can get me out o’ this mess.”

“Search as in she’s gone missing?”

Duncan nodded. “She didna return home as expected after leaving here, and her parents got so annoyed with the inquiries made aboot her that they left their London residence as well. Neville has people still looking, but they’re no’ having any luck.”

“Sounds like she doesn’t want to be found,’ Raphael speculated.

“I’m aware o’ that, yet someone must know where she might have gone tae ground. I’ve the addresses o’ her friends and will be—”

“No doubt wasting your time,” Raphael cut in again. “If she’s hiding, though I can’t imagine why, she won’t let her friends know where she is.”

Duncan sighed. “I dinna suppose you know anything aboot the lass that might point tae where she could have gone when she left?”

“Me? I’ve never met the chit, but as it happens, I do know her cousin John Newbolt, who was apparently her escort here. If it were me, I’d be looking for him, since he’s the one she left here with.”

“He’s gone missing as well, at least I’m told he hasna returned home either.”

Raphael raised a golden brow at that, but then shook his head and mumbled, more to himself, “No, they are first cousins, they wouldn’t—never mind. At least your grandfather’s people are being thorough, to have looked for him. You should find that reassuring.”

Duncan nodded, though it was little consolation, when those men hadn’t produced results yet. “Auld Neville is sparing nae expense in this matter, according tae m’grandda Archie.”

Raphael chuckled. “No, he wouldn’t. I imagine the thought of Ophelia as his granddaughter-in-law has quite horrified him, now he knows what mischief she’s capable of.”

“I wouldna know,” Duncan replied with a shrug. “I talk tae him as little as possible m’self.”

“What ho!” Rafe chuckled. “Intimidated, eh? Can’t say as I blame you—”

“Och, dinna be running off on another tangent. I simply dinna like him.”

“Your own grandfather? Why?”

Instead of answering that, which was none of Raphael’s business, Duncan asked, “I dinna suppose you might know where this cousin could be found?”

Raphael got the point, and after a thoughtful frown, said, “Don’t know him well, just in passing since we belong to the same club, but you know how men will talk—and brag, when there aren’t any women around. I’ve heard he keeps a place in Manchester just for his mistresses, a property he won in a card game. This isn’t unusual, having a place just for your mistress. Many married men do the same. But in this case it struck me funny, since John still lives at home with his mother, and this property in Manchester is the only one he personally owns. You’d think he would have moved into it himself, now wouldn’t you, rather than put his mistresses there. Particularly when it’s so bloody far from London where his mother lives.”

“But it’d be inappropriate for him tae take his cousin there, aye?”

“Course it would—unless the place was presently empty.” Raphael shrugged. “Only mentioned it because if I had a young cousin who asked me to take her somewhere that she could hide, as it were, and I had a house that no one in my family was aware of, that would be where I might take her—if it was currently without an occupant. Especially since it’s not that far from here, but is far from London.”

“Would you be having the address?”

“Did I say I knew him well?”

Duncan sighed again, but thought to ask, “How big is this town then?”

Raphael laughed. “Much too big to be hoping someone on a corner might direct you where you want to go. It’s a bloody city, old chap, not a little town or village.”

Duncan could have wrung the man’s neck at that point, for getting his hopes up, then shooting them down again. His expression probably said that was what he was thinking, because Raphael took at least one step back.

But then he grinned cheekily and said, “I could get you out of this mess.”

“E’en if that were true, which I’m doubting, why would you?”

“Gads, you needn’t look so suspicious. No ulterior motives, I assure you. I’m just aware that there is another you would prefer to marry.”

Knowing just how frequently Raphael tended to mention his young sister, Amanda, and that he would probably like to get out of the chore of chaperoning her about, which would only be accomplished by her own marriage, Duncan didn’t doubt that was who he was referring to.

So he assured him, “You’re wrong, mon. dinna want tae marry her.”

“No? Well, knock me over, I really think you mean it.” And then with a sigh of his own, “Very well, so I was wrong. But I’m still willing to help.”

“How?”

“By asking Ophelia to many me instead, of course. I’m probably the only one she would throw you over for.”

Duncan couldn’t restrain a snort. “That’s a bluidy high opinion you have o’ yourself, mon, likely tae rival her own opinion o’ herself.”

Raphael chuckled. “Hardly. We’re talking titles here, which is all she’s really interested in, that and the wealth that comes with them. Don’t make the mistake of thinking it’s actually you she wants. And the title I will be inheriting does happen to be a bit more lofty than yours.”

“E’en if it might work, which it willna, couldna ask you tae make such a sacrifice.”

“What sacrifice? I’m not talking about actually marrying her,” Raphael said with a shudder. “Merely asking her, doing the engaged thing for a bit, then breaking it off. I’ll even do the gentlemanly part and let her do the breaking. Save face and all of that. Then no one’s hurt, you escape this fate worse than death, I get back to my usual pursuits of debauchery and the like, and everyone’s happy.”

“Except Ophelia, who still has this enemy o hers who can at any time ruin her wi’ the information she has,” Duncan pointed out. “What is tae stop Mavis from spreading her tale if Ophelia doesna marry me? Getting her engaged tae you won’t prevent that, will merely turn the tale into the full-blown scandal we’re trying tae avoid.”

Raphael frowned, having momentarily overlooked that wrinkle. “Well, hell, you really are in a fix then, aren’t you? So what are you waiting for? Come to think of it, I haven’t been to Manchester in a while myself. Think I’ll join you. Two of us can cover much more area than you can alone. For that matter, let your grandfather know, so he can send his people there as well.”

Much as Duncan hated to admit it, and he still didn’t like the roundabout way Raphael said things, the man was turning out to be likable after all.