Why Earls Fall in Love by Manda Collins

time, but I cannot say that I am sorry for it. I always did wonder whether Robert had left me some last words, but always assumed there had been no time. Despite our differences I am pleased to know he was thinking of me.”
    The other woman squeezed Georgie’s hand. “I am simply pleased that I was able to give it to you at last.”
    Promising that they would plan an afternoon together next week which included Lettice, the ladies parted, but Georgie wasn’t altogether certain what was said. So aware was she of the note resting in her reticule that she barely recalled making her way back to Henrietta Street.
    *   *   *
    Con took a sip of the really quite passable ale served at the Angry Piglet tavern on the outskirts of Bath. He’d arranged a meeting here with the man he hoped would agree to conduct an investigation into the history of Colonel Robert Mowbray. He was astute enough to realize that there were some tasks that would be finished more quickly by someone who was familiar with the terrain. Besides, Con did not wish to leave Bath lest the man who was watching Georgina returned. And he most definitely was going to come back.
    “You have a knack for choosing the most absurdly named establishments, my lord,” Lord Archer Lisle said with a mix of exasperation and awe as he brushed off the seat of the chair opposite Con before lowering himself into it. Whispering conspiratorially, he added, “And I believe it would be wise to eschew the advertised pigeon pie, for I saw a few of those unhappy birds wandering drunkenly in the yard. The cook has probably lost his hunter and has taken to poisoning them.”
    “As I have no intention of consuming anything other than this surprisingly tasty ale,” Con responded, raising his tankard in appreciation, “I have little need of your warning, though I thank you for it, Archer.”
    The two men were a study in contrasts. The blond Lord Archer was as fastidiously attired as the brunet Lord Coniston was dressed neatly but comfortably. And yet, for their differences, the men were friends.
    “I take it that you’ve asked me to visit you in this sterling establishment for some reason other than to recommend the ale,” Archer said, flicking a bit of fluff off the arm of his greatcoat before taking a sip from the tankard the barmaid had just set before him. “Not bad.”
    “I told you,” Con said with a grin. “And of course I have a reason to call you here. I would hardly drag you away from the side of your beloved without one.”
    Archer sighed. “I’ve asked you not to call the Duke of Ormond my beloved. Really, what will his wife think?”
    “You know damned well I’m talking about the duke’s sister-in-law, old man,” Con said with a sardonic smile. “Even if you aren’t willing to speak the truth aloud, I am.”
    “By what right?” Archer asked grimly. “You’re hardly in any position to throw stones.”
    “By the right of a former betrothed,” Con said, just as grim. “If you aren’t going to admit that you’re in love with her, the least I can do is say it for you.”
    It was an old argument, and both men had dug into their positions with the stubbornness that could only come from being born into the noblest houses in England.
    “So long as you refrain from saying it in front of her,” Archer said coolly, “then I suppose there’s nothing I can do to stop you. Though I’m dashed if I know why you are so determined to speak of it. I had hoped that we would have got past this by now.”
    “This is what happens when you allow your best friend to become engaged to the woman you love,” Con said with a shrug. “Especially when you don’t tell the friend until after he’s already asked her the question.”
    “It was none of your business,” Archer groused. “In fact, I never would have told you at all if you hadn’t dragged it out of me.”
    “If I hadn’t dragged it out of you I’d be married to her by now,” Con said with a shake of his