suggested they shared similar opinions on matrimony. Perhaps it was as simple as a young lady not wanting word of her unusual views to get around. But, he thought with a frown, if she was going to dabble in peccadilloes in lieu of marriage, she would have to be far more circumspect.
He heard his name and glanced up to find he’d arrived at his destination. Marshall rode toward him at a trot on his white stallion, Amadeus. He pulled alongside Jordan, and the two men shook hands.
“A happy coincidence,” Marshall said.
The easy smile on his face was a contrast to the brooding demeanor he’d worn during the years following his and Isabelle’s divorce. Jordan could only credit their remarriage with the change in his friend. He was especially glad of his good mood this morning.
“Not a coincidence, Marsh. Might I have a word?” Jordan dug his heels into the sides of his own black beast, Phantom, and started off at a walk.
Marshall wheeled Amadeus about and caught up. “What is it, Freese?”
Jordan scowled beneath the brim of his tall hat before turning a smile on his friend. “I would like to host a party at Lintern Abbey — for grouse hunting. I have plenty of gentlemen guests but need some ladies to balance out the party. As you happen to have several delightful females in your household, I hoped you’d do me the very great favor of attending.”
“Absolutely not,” Marshall answered with a jerk of his chin. “It’s out of the question, Jordan. I should have had Isabelle home to Helmsdale a month ago, but we stayed on in Town so she could throw last night’s benefit. We leave tomorrow morning.”
Jordan sighed heavily and pressed his thumb and forefinger to his aching eyes, suddenly more weary than he could remember being in years. “Of course. I’m sorry. It was foolish of me to even consider … ”
His mind raced. This was the solution to his problem — he knew it was. He would not fail for lack of women at his party, even if he had to empty out a brothel and pay whores to act the part. But the ruse would be more convincing if there were known Society ladies in attendance. The fingers of his dangling left hand drummed against the smooth leather of his tall riding boot.
“I don’t suppose you know of any other ladies left in Town I might invite?” he ventured.
Marshall eyed him suspiciously. “Does this party have anything to do with Castlereagh commandeering my study last night?”
Jordan glanced up and down the Row. There were no other riders within earshot. “As a matter of fact, it does.”
Marshall’s lips pursed thoughtfully. “Let’s see, here. A hunting party that I must now assume is not, in fact, a hunting party. Castlereagh provided you with your gentlemen guests, then?”
Jordan nodded. “Yes, exactly. I need women there to give the appearance of an ordinary house party.”
“Why is the Foreign Office descending on Lintern Abbey? Why not the Home Office?”
“You know I can’t tell you that, my friend.”
For a while, they rode in silence. The rising sun began to burn away the cool mist hovering above the ground and dry the little droplets clinging to the dark green superfine of Jordan’s coat.
“You haven’t asked for my help in Foreign Office business since Spain,” Marshall said.
Jordan glanced sidelong at the other man and could almost picture him as he’d looked on the Peninsula. His intense dark eyes had been large in his boy-slim face; he’d been much younger then.
God, we both were
, he mused. They’d looked like lads playing in their fathers’ uniforms next to the seasoned officers, but they’d been called upon for some of the most important missions of the campaign. Marshall and Jordan were of an age, but sometimes Jordan felt as if he’d already lived enough for three lifetimes. He wondered if Marshall ever felt the same. “I never told you it was Foreign Office business.”
“No, but you’ve just confirmed it,” Marshall said wryly. “And