“Do you? How unusual,” Hil commented blandly, as if frantic men burst into his study routinely. “I’ve never known you to have difficulties in that area before.”
A bark of laughter sounded from the other corner of the room, and Alasdair glanced over in surprise to see Roger Templeton draped over a chair, a cup of tea in hand.
“Roger! When did you get back?” Alasdair exclaimed. He walked over to his old friend with a delighted smile, his hand outstretched. They hadn’t seen each other in over a year.
Roger straightened and took Alasdair’s hand, shaking it warmly. With his height and muscular build and his dark, curling hair framing his chiseled features, Roger had the face and form of a Greek god. He’d always had the temperament to match. “Sharp. I’ve only just gotten back. I’ve been in London for no more than two days, and most of that was spent sleeping in one of Hil’s beds, which I’ll be occupying for the foreseeable future.”
“My home is yours,” Hil said graciously, and Alasdair knew he meant it.
“The Continent didn’t change you a bit,” Alasdair told Roger with a laugh.
Roger smiled conspiratorially. “Au contraire, my friend. I learned a great deal there. You’d be amazed.” He accompanied his comment with a wag of his brows and Alasdair laughed again.
“You never cease to amaze me, Roger.”
“Why don’t we go out this evening and I’ll tell you all about it?” Roger offered slyly, one dark blue eye winking roguishly. “I’d tell Hil, but he already knows everything about everything.”
Alasdair shook his head. “No, but thank you. My licentious days are behind me now. I’m not one of the Saint’s Devils anymore,” Alasdair said, referring to the silly nickname their group of friends had earned years ago in school, based on Hil’s surname. “I may still cross a line or two, but I don’t live that way anymore.”
“Of course you’re still a Devil,” Hil said absentmindedly behind him, and Alasdair turned to see him gently place his perfectly folded paper on the table and give him a smile. “We were never about licentiousness. We were about living life to its fullest, experiencing all we could and learning as we went. Aren’t you still living your life that way?”
“So it would seem,” Alasdair replied wryly, thinking of why he’d come to Hil for help.
“As it happens, Roger doesn’t seem to be living very licentiously these days, either,” Hil observed. Alasdair glanced at Roger in surprise.
“I didn’t say what I learned on the continent,” he said with a shrug. “You just assumed.”
“Damn me, I did,” Alasdair said, genuinely contrite. “I’m sorry, old man.”
Roger just laughed. “Don’t be. I’m not ignorant of my own reputation.”
As Hil took his arm and led him over to the sofa situated in the center of the room, some of the tension dissolved from Alasdair’s neck and shoulders, reminding him that true friendship was rare indeed and not to be treated lightly. Alasdair loved this room. It was a man’s room, all dark wood and rich red upholstery. A large group of sofas and chairs were arranged in a loose circle in the center of the room, open on one side to the fireplace. There were also small tables with two or three chairs surrounding them placed around the room. The walls were covered in large bookcases, filled with well-used books. Roger hadn’t been far off the mark when it came to Hil. He was a student of the world. He wanted to know everything one man could learn in a lifetime.
Alasdair had never met Hil’s family and knew very little of his past, which was highly unusual in the circles in which they both moved. Hil was rather vague on the subject, and society loved the mystery of it all. Society loved everything about the eccentric Sir Hilary St. John.
“Now, about this woman you seek,” Hil said, returning his focus to Alasdair’s request. “Tell me.”
Alasdair sat down on the sofa, and Hil took the seat next to him, leaning back, quite relaxed. His look was politely interested as he smiled at Alasdair. Though he looked as though he hadn’t a care in the world, Alasdair wasn’t fooled. Hil missed nothing. He was brilliant, sharp, and insightful. He could disassemble any scene or event, or person for that matter, with the precision of an artist. Along with Hil’s useful connections, it was the very reason why Alasdair had sought him out today. Hil was involved in all manner of investments and projects with a wide variety of people in the city, some rather questionable.
Alasdair gave Roger a meaningful glance, unsure of whether he wanted to involve him.
“Shall I leave?” Roger asked, but clearly he had no intention to do so, as he moved over and sat in the chair opposite Alasdair and Hil. He settled in and sipped his tea, looking all too comfortable.
“No,” Alasdair answered, “don’t bother.”
“Oh, good.” Roger sent him a delighted smile. “I’ve been a little bored, and this promises to be rather interesting.” He frowned for a moment. “Well, more interesting than anything else at the moment, anyway.”
“So glad I could oblige.” Alasdair let his sarcasm show.
“Is it a particular woman,” Hil interrupted, “or will any one do?”
Hil’s question brought the whole situation back into stark focus, and Alasdair planted his elbows on his knees and dropped his forehead into his palms, despair overriding all else for the moment.
“Oh, this does look bad,” Roger said. He sounded almost gleeful. “I’d venture to say it’s a particular woman.”
Alasdair turned his head and glared at him.
“What?” Roger asked innocently. “I didn’t do anything.”
“I don’t remember you being so annoying. Did you learn that on the Continent?”
“No, I’ve always been that way.”
“He is more annoying.” Hil sighed. He reached over the arm of the sofa for his cup of tea while Roger tried to look innocent, neither denying nor confirming his accusation.
“I thought we were discussing his woman,” Roger said, pointing at Alasdair.
Alasdair sighed. “Actually, we do need to discuss her. Time is of the essence, I fear.”
Hil looked at him with concern. “I’m sorry, Sharp. I didn’t realize. And here we’ve been wasting that very commodity. Who is she? And why do you need to find her?”
“God knows I wish I didn’t have to tell anyone about my colossal stupidity, but it’s necessary.”
“I exist merely to enjoy the colossal stupidity of others.” Roger sounded amused, but also concerned.
“It all started last night,” Alasdair began slowly, not sure how much he wanted to tell them.
Roger nodded wisely. “Yes, that’s usually how it starts.”
“Yes, well, my tale is an old one,” Alasdair said with a snort. “The short version is, I caught a thief in my bedroom, she turned out to be a very intriguing woman, I relieved her of her virginity, and this morning I awoke to discover she had relieved me of the Stuart Pearl.”
Roger sat forward, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Good God, man! There was a virgin left in London?”
Despite the gravity of the situation, Alasdair had to laugh. He remembered all the times Roger had made him laugh when they were younger, when laughing was the last thing he thought he’d ever do again. How foolish and trite his youthful dramas seemed now. “Yes, believe it or not. And now, alas, she is no more.”