Cloaked in Danger by Jeannie Ruesch

unnoticed.
    “Jolly good, as a matter of fact.” He smiled benignly, his focus direct again. “Took a recent trip to Bath with my mother, and they were both quite restored by it.”
    “I have not yet ventured to Bath. I hope to plan a trip this summer.” This was spoken almost like a timid question by the young—possibly younger than Cordelia?—Earl of Marbleton.
    “Oh, you must visit Sydney Gardens,” Lord Vanderwyne said. “It truly is elegance personified.”
    “Oh yes! And the labyrinth!”
    Cordelia appeared pleased at the turn of topics, since this one lent nicely to gauging the spending habits of the men present.
    Adam set his empty cup down. “So shall we go down the row, one at a time, and you can ensure me of your intentions toward my sister?”
    Cordelia gasped, but before she could open her mouth, Higgins stood in the doorway.
    “My lord, there is a visitor.”
    Adam jumped up. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.”
    The minute he hit the door, Higgins handed him a card. “A Mister Calebowe to call.”
    The man in question was of an age with Adam’s mother, elegantly dressed without being fussy, with a shock of silver hair. He turned upon Adam’s entry.
    Mr. Calebowe inclined his head slightly. “Lord Merewood, I am here to call—”
    Adam moved toward him. “I am afraid you are too late, sir. There are suitors aplenty today. If you leave your card, I will be sure Lady Cordelia gets it.”
    “There must be some mistake, as I—”
    Adam let out a sigh of frustration. “My sister has plenty of visitors at this time and—”
    “I am not here to see your sister,” Mr. Calebowe interrupted, blinking a few times.
    Adam frowned. “Then what may I do for you?”
    “Franklin?” The name was half-whispered and Adam turned to look at his mother, who clearly knew the man.
    And was also clearly shocked by his arrival.
    She took the final few steps down the stairs and stopped, her attention never wavering from the stately man who stood in front of Adam. “Franklin, it’s truly you.”
    Mr. Calebowe inhaled, and on his exhale of breath he said her name: “Hypatia.”
    “What are you doing here?” Adam’s mother looked frozen with alarm.
    “I came to call on you.” The last word was raised slightly, turning it almost into a question. “Forgive me for being a little late.”
    Adam’s gaze volleyed back to his mother and he startled. She held herself stiffly, her emotions bared in the angry set of her jaw, the shock in her wide eyes and the protective instinct to cross her arms over her chest. How could a man he had never met have caused such immediate emotion?
    “Late?” She covered the distance of the corridor in seconds. It would appear anger had kicked in as well. “Late would be thirty minutes. Late would be an hour or two. Maybe even a day. Bloody hell, Franklin!”
    “Mama!” Who the hell was this man?
    “Young man, this does not concern you,” she tossed back, without looking in his direction. Her righteous indignation was directed at the unsuspecting man whom Adam was starting to believe should leave. Immediately.
    “‘Patia, I can explain.”
    Adam frowned at the intimacy of his address. “Kindly address her as Lady Merewood in this home, Mr. Calebowe. My mother deserves the proper respect due her station.”
    Mr. Calebowe bowed his head slightly, accepting the criticism with the quiet fortitude of one who knew he asked a lot to be forgiven. “Lady Merewood, a few minutes of your time. Let me explain.”
    To Adam’s utter amazement, tears filled his mother’s eyes and she shook her head.
    “You are too late, Franklin. Thirty years too late.” And with those throaty, emotion-filled words, she turned on her heel and went back up the stairs.
    Adam turned to their uninvited guest. “You need to leave.”
    The man suddenly seemed smaller. Defeated. He reached into the inside of his overcoat and pulled out an envelope. “Would you give this to your...to Lady Merewood? I had