He needed heirs.
He’d never needed anything before. It was an odd sensation.
“But first things first. Your appearance. We shall go to Bond Street. I know a man.”
“Such a sentence never ends well.”
“He’s a genius. He will outfit you according to your station. The Season is half over so there is no time to waste if you want to make a splash.”
“I do not.”
“Nonsense. Of course you do. And now is the time to strike. Everyone will want a glimpse of the new Earl of Canterby.”
Dev shuddered. He’d always hated that title and the man who claimed it. It would be a hard adjustment…though nothing to losing his beard.
“First I must visit Bow Street, though.”
“Bow Street? Whatever for?”
“I need to dispatch a runner.”
“The…problem?”
“Yes. Of course. Quite annoying, I must say, but my fiancée has gone missing.”
The cup stalled halfway to Dev’s mouth. “Your…fiancée?”
“Yes. She took off in the middle of the night. I’ve come to engage a Bow Street Runner to look for her.”
“That is…terrible.”
Wickham laughed. “I suppose. She’s a well-known hoyden, but a lovely thing.”
“Is she?” A trickle of sweat danced down his spine.
“I daresay I will enjoy her adventurous spirit. Once I have her trained, of course.”
Something crawled in his gut. It felt like acid. Dev cleared his throat. “Who, ahem, who is she?”
Wickham toyed with his cuffs. “Matilda Paddington. You know her brother, Charles.”
Oh fuck. Dev’s heart stuttered. He hadn’t only debauched Paddington’s sister. He’d ravaged his best friend’s intended. A painful ping took up residence in his left temple. “I, ah, didn’t know you were engaged.”
Wickham chuckled. “It’s not been announced. Charles wanted us to tell her in person. So I went to Cornwall to meet her. A mistake, that.”
“A mistake?”
Wickham held out his hands. “Apparently she was not interested in the betrothal. She did flee.”
How odd, though, that Wickham did not seem more concerned. If Dev were engaged to Tildy and she disappeared on him, he’d be rampaging around the countryside until he got her back. But here he was, eating Dev’s bacon and laughing as though it were all a big joke. The thought infuriated him.
“Do you love her?” he had to ask, though the words caught in his throat.
“Love her?” Wickham shot him a curious glance. “Oh, you are new to society, are you not?”
“What do you mean?”
“No one marries for love. Not in our world.”
How dismal.
“I am worried about her, though,” he offered, as if that were enough. “Paddington is my friend.”
“And when did that happen?” He and Wickham had been close at Eton because they were both in the sights of Paddington and his cohorts. “He has always been a monster.”
“Oh, that.” Wickham waved a hand. “That was long ago. He’s a decent sort, now that he’s had time to mature. Even apologized for being a royal ass back then.”
Dev stared at him.
Men didn’t change. Did they?
Tildy said they did. They could.
He didn’t like the thought that Paddington had.
It made his attempt at revenge turn sour.
“Well, what do you say? Shall we head out and claim your new life?”
A life where he, perforce, wore cravats and someone else had a say in the length of his facial hair? A life where he had to toady to the Grand Dames of the Ton and marry a woman he did not love?
Not hardly.
It was a pity that Wickham ignored all of his protests.
CHAPTER NINE
A HIDEOUS SOUND woke him the first morning in his new home in Mayfair.
The sound of someone being murdered, perhaps, or a rabid cat in heat.
Dev leaped out of bed and ran to the window just as the chilling yowl came again.
A peacock.
He owned a fucking peacock.
As surreal as that fact was, it was nothing to the maelstrom the past few days had been. Wickham had been as good as his word. After he visited Bow Street and hired a runner to hunt for his wayward fiancée—which Dev appreciated, because, frankly, he wanted her found as well—he took Dev to the magistrate and assisted with all the paperwork.
He was the heir to several properties, a nice fortune and, of course, the title of Earl of Canterby. Though Wickham assured him his life had completely changed, he didn’t feel any different. He did have a new wardrobe, most of which would be delivered within the week, and his face was closely shaved. Even his hair had been worked over by Wickham’s man.
But he didn’t feel different.
It was a challenge keeping thoughts of Tildy at bay. All through his ordeal, she’d been there, in the corner of his mind. He’d been swamped with memories and thoughts and regrets.
Again, only regrets that he’d let her slip away.