Henry hadn’t paid any mind to Forrest’s identity when it wouldn’t have affected anyone, but, being an idiot as usual, he had forgotten about the engagement between Forrest and Mary’s best friend.

He was drunk. Obviously. Adrenaline had taken away some of the blow, but he was still stumbling like an idiot. It had given him a damn good excuse to stumble and fall against Mary, though. That was his one accomplishment for the day.

Last night, however, was a different matter. He could have solve world hunger last night and he would never know. As soon as Mary left and got engaged to her “James,” as he had known she would, he had consumed as much alcohol as he could find. After that, he consumed as much as he could afford. Consequently, he couldn’t remember a thing.

He simply had to hope he hadn’t done anything entirely regrettable. Even better: anything in public.

“Henry!”

He looked up, abruptly, and jumped, just dodging a carriage making its merry way down the street. The sudden movement made his head swim and his temples throb as a rolling sense of nausea crept furtively into his stomach.

“Thanks,” he said, acknowledging Mary for her warning before resuming his pathetic journey. With his blurred vision, he thought he caught her shaking her head as she tagged along.

“I believe his townhouse is just around this bend,” she told him.

He rubbed his eyes, trying to make himself more alert. Or, less intoxicated. Something less or more.

He was miserable. Completely, absurdly defeated. Another woman engaged to another man, someone else, someone better. He had nothing to lose, which was probably why he was intoxicated on the streets of London trying to save someone he barely knew from a very questionable fate. This Mr. Forrest could, in fact, be just a man. Not the man.

On that note…

“Mary, I should tell you that I’m acting on suspicion based on fact. If my suspicions are incorrect, I will carry on as if this was simply a normal visit.”

She merely glanced at him, then stopped walking. “We’re here. Shall I bash down the door?”

He glanced back at her. “Only if you feel like meeting my embarrassment quota. Although I don’t think you could best me.”

Going up the stairs ever-so-slowly, he closed his eyes so that his equilibrium would stay steady for him.

“Are you alright?” he heard from Mary.

“No,” he replied without hesitation.

“Then should we wait to do whatever you’re about to do?”

“No. I’ve put it off long enough.”

He groped for the door and knocked sharply. It was opened almost immediately, so quickly that he almost fell from leaning against it.

Mary took over, seeing his disadvantage. “Good evening to you, sir. May we please see Mr. Forrest?”

“Who calls?” interrogated the snobbish manservant.

“Mary White, I’m Miss Sarah Windham’s friend.”

The servant nodded silently, then turned into the house, leaving the door ajar.

They looked at each other, assumed they were to follow him, and did so.

“Simply let me announce you,” uttered the very personable servant, turning up his nose in Henry’s direction. “And…you are?”

“Also a friend,” Henry shot at him curtly.

“I can’t announce you without a name, sir.”

Henry smiled wickedly. “Then my name is Mr. Mitchell. John Mitchell.”

The servant swallowed. “I…don’t believe that’s your real name, sit.” His cool exterior began to slip, his fear overcoming his composure.

Henry crossed his arms. “I suggest you announce me as I asked you to announce me.”

The servant nodded anxiously and disappeared through a door.

“Henry?”

He shook his head, signaling for her to be quiet.

“Who is John Mitchell?”

He held a finger to his lips, his adrenaline finally catching up with the alcohol and creating a steady man out of him instead of a drunkard.

They heard muffled voices behind the door, heightening in emotion as the conversation proceeded.

Suddenly, the door burst open and out walked John Mitchell.