Page 80 of The Forsaken

“Apologies, Kerr. All the McQuoid and Smith ladies are called for. Find an antechamber.”

“Drove them all away, did you?”

The tight smile he turned on Kilmartin didn’t meet his eyes.

Greyhold rested a hand on his taut shoulder. “Easy, big brother,” he said quietly.

Realizing she had just given him her heart left him with a smug victory over his rival.

Kerr stopped beside the earl’s chair. “Lord Abington?”

Paper rustled. “Hmm?”

“It is Kerr. I’m helping you locate your missing arti—”

Abington’s copy of The Times made a swift descent. “Why, didn’t you say that, lad? Sit-Sit.”

He prayed for patience.

“No. I’m not here to discuss any new leads,” None, he had none. Nothing more than servants sending him back to the Antiquities Room ad nauseum. “I am looking for your niece.”

“Which one? I’ve got three of them.”

Which one? Perhaps the only accurate answer the dotty fellow had given in his life.

“At least, three here. My others can’t be bothered with London. Can’t say how many in total now. Big family.”

Kerr swallowed his impatience. “Miss Smith.”

That assumption meant Abington knew which of his London-Scottish McQuoid-Smith nieces wasn’t married.

“Andromena,” Kerr clarified.

“Can’t say.” The paper went back up. “No one can.”

A whisper nearly lost in the turning of Abington’s page.

No one can.

A cold weight dropped in his stomach.

Even Kilmartin straightened.

Andromena.

Kerr gave his head a clearing shake. The earl couldn’t be that casual about her life.

Her jaunt in the Rookeries, New Bond Street, and Ermine Street proved otherwise.

Kerr sank to his haunches. “Can you tell me where Andromena is, Lord Abington?”

Kilmartin’s smile had vanished.

“I’m afraid I can’t. As I said,” the earl continued in his shockingly reserved whisper. “Was asked to stay here and keep up appearances.”

Appearances? That’s what they gave a damn about.

Kerr nudged Abington’s paper down.