The Wedding Escape by Karyn Monk Page B

not be keeping.” She scooped up an elaborate gown of amethyst silk and a delicate pair of matching evening shoes.
    Jack’s jaw tightened as she raised the gown to her shoulders and turned to study herself in the mirror. Should Lord Philmore decide to break his betrothal to Miss Fanshaw, he would not be in any position to pay for the extravagant clothes to which Miss Belford was evidently accustomed. Somehow Jack forced himself to turn away from her, denying himself the pleasure of her loveliness as she cast the gown aside and rifled through the mound on the bed, searching for another.
    If Miss Belford’s precious viscount did decide to marry her, then she would learn the harsh reality of Philmore’s finances and sexual preferences soon enough.

Chapter Five
    W E LOST HIM.”
    The old man scowled with impatience. “What do you mean, you lost him?”
    Neil Dempsey swallowed nervously and stared down at his notes, wondering how much this recent failure was going to cost him. It was difficult to predict the mercurial moods of his volatile employer, who could be unaccountably enraged by the most innocuous of details, and then moved to the brink of tears by some other equally insipid observation. Cursing his associate for losing Kent, he consulted the brief telegraph message he had received earlier that day.
    â€œHe was last seen yesterday leavin’ Lord Whitcliffe’s wedding in his rented carriage, with his old servant, Oliver, driving. Mr. Potter, my associate, was under the impression that Mr. Kent was plannin’ to return to Inverness by train. Unfortunately, it seems he never reached the station. There’s nae record of him purchasin’ a fare, and no one saw either him or his servant boarding the coach. My associate continued to watch the station until the last train left last night. He then went to Whitcliffe’s estate, where some of the guests were stayin’, but Mr. Kent was nae there, either.” He closed his journal. “I’m afraid that’s all I have, yer lordship.”
    The earl sat upright suddenly, which provoked a violent fit of phlegmy coughing.
    â€œGet out!” he snapped furiously at the sausage-shaped woman who opened the door. “Get out, I say!”
    â€œYe should save yer breath for them that’s willin’ to listen to ye,” the woman retorted, marching purposefully into the room. She poured some water from a jug into a glass, added a few drops of laudanum from a small brown bottle, then slipped a strong arm behind his back and held the glass to his papery lips. “Drink this.”
    The once formidable Earl of Hutton reluctantly choked down a few sips of the foul-tasting brew. “Enough!” Edward barked when his coughing had subsided. “I’ll not drink a sip more—I swear you’re trying to poison me!”
    â€œIf I were, I’d use something that’d finish ye in one tidy gulp,” his nurse assured him brusquely. “That way I’d nae have to listen to ye chokin’ and rantin’ as ye went.” She eased him back against his pillows and briskly adjusted the covers over his frail form before turning to give Neil a stern look. “I’ve told ye to nae excite him.”
    â€œAnd I’ve told you to mind your own bloody business!” snapped Lord Hutton, only to start hacking once more.
    â€œI’m sorry, Mrs. Quigley,” said Neil. “Perhaps I should come back tomorrow—”
    â€œStay where you are.” Lord Hutton cast his investigator as menacing a look as he could muster, given his state of undress and feeble condition. “And you,” he added, turning to glare at his nurse, “get the hell out.”
    â€œYe’ve but five minutes,” Mrs. Quigley informed Neil, ignoring Lord Hutton. “Not a second more.”
    â€œI’ll be finished.” Neil did not know which of the two he found more