If only he had not missed Merissa the day before. But he’d arrived at St. Alban’s to find her wagon and team already stabled at the livery. When the man there mentioned that she’d asked after the next mail coach, Christian knew at once that he was too late. Despite driving all night, he was some hours behind her. Too many to hope that she’d still be at the Lombard station. But where the devil would she go? How would she, a green country miss, find her way around bustling London?Presumably, she’d search out Charles the very first thing. Damn! If only Elizabeth had read the letter and recalled Charles’ address. But Elizabeth knew no more than he did. Which was next to nothing. Only that Merissa was somewhere in London, searching for her brother.Charles, he was the key. If he was a gamester, someone at the clubs should remember him. Couldn’t be that hard to spot. A blond gapeseed with a Derbyshire accent.Gloomily, Christian contemplated that there must be dozens of fresh-faced young men ruined in the hells every year.
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