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“Thank you. I’ll have Piggott send word when the trunks are ready.”
    “Oh,” Papa said. “Before I forget, your grandmother cried off from her ride with you this afternoon.”
    Now that was a surprise. Kit couldn’t keep his eyes from narrowing a bit. “Did she give a reason?”
    “I believe she knew you’d want to depart as soon as possible, and Lady B requires assistance in rigging out the young lady.”
    Relief swept through him, and he grinned. “Ah, yes, shopping over a carriage ride. Tell her it would be my great pleasure to tool her around when I return.”
    “Kit.”
    He focused on his father’s grim countenance.
    “Let me know if you need assistance.”
    “I will. Thank you.”
    He strode out of his father’s office and house. How the hell could a woman just move in and pretend to be his wife? Well, she wouldn’t be there for long.
    Seething with anger, Kit clenched his fists as he left Featherton House and made his way to Brooks’s, where he was meeting Marcus, Rutherford, and Huntley for luncheon. The footman led Kit to their usual table tucked into the far corner of the dining room, where their conversation was unlikely to be overheard.
    Marcus glanced at Kit and waved him to a chair. “I ordered for you. I take it something is amiss?”
    Kit pressed his lips together for a moment, trying to decide how much to tell his friends. “You could say that.” He sat back as the waiter poured a glass of claret for him and refreshed the other men’s glasses. Once the servant left, Kit said, “It appears I’ve picked up a wife without my knowledge.”
    Raised brows and silence answered him.
    Rutherford took out his quizzing glass. “Indeed?”
    Kit relayed the story, then said, “I’m off as soon as may be.”
    “Would you like me to give Phoebe your regrets?” Marcus asked.
    “No, of course not. I want to meet Wivenly’s bride, and would not miss seeing Beaumont and Serena’s baby. Will Phoebe mind if I don’t stay long?”
    “Give me leave to tell her what has happened and she’ll have your trip planned for you before your man can pack.”
    Low chuckles went around the table. Phoebe Evesham was a formidable lady, and a good friend. She’d never met her match, though, until Marcus had returned. Still he’d had his work cut out for him. Kit didn’t ever want to have to work as hard to convince a lady to marry him as his friend had. All of his friends, it seemed, had spent an inordinate amount of time courting the ladies who were now their wives. Although they’d grown up together, Rutherford had had a devil of a time convincing Anna to wed him. Kit shuddered when he thought of what Huntley had gone through to make his forced marriage to Caro work. Kit wanted only to fall in love and wed without all the attendant drama.
    Beefsteaks arrived for the table, and they spent the next hour or so discussing what they’d been doing during the winter and their plans for this Season. When they’d finished, Kit made his excuses. “I’ll see you shortly.”
    He strode north on St. James Street, then turned right onto Jermyn Street. His rooms were in the center of the block. Taking the stairs two at a time he bellowed, “Piggott, get packed, we’re leaving.”
    Wiping his hands on a cloth, Piggott stepped from Kit’s bedchamber into the main room. “For how long, where are we going, and when do we depart?”
    “About three weeks, perhaps more. Northumberland. It’s going to take a week to get there. You will leave as soon as you’ve packed my father’s traveling coach. I must stop by Dunwood House first. I’ll find you on the road. I’m taking the curricle.”
    Piggott’s jaw dropped. “All that way, sir?”
    “Damned if I’ll be cooped up in a coach for a week. No one would be able to bear me, not even myself.”
    “May I inquire as to the rush?”
    “I’ll tell you later. At present, I must cry off from all my engagements. Pack me a bag with what I’ll need if we get