If the servants knew, then it was likely that half of London knew it by now. Stephen grimaced, just imagining the gossip.
“We’ve been invited to attend Lord Yarrington’s musicale,” Quentin continued. “And I’d best warn you—Miss Hereford will be there.”
Stephen held back a curse. If he attended the musicale, he couldn’t possibly avoid Miss Hereford, despite his desire to do so. She had somehow fallen into the belief that he cared for her, after he’d done little to encourage her. He blamed his parents for leading her astray.
If he arrived with Emily at his side, it would put matters to rest, however. He tried to envision his wife in a ball gown, her fair hair twined with pearls and diamonds.
Instead, it was easier to see her with hands covered in flour, an apron tied about her waist. Tight desire wound up inside him, for he didn’t remember making love to her. She’d claimed she was still a virgin, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t touched her. And from the blush on her cheeks and the way she’d responded earlier, he suspected he had.
Right now, finding out the answer to these questions seemed far more important than meeting with his father and enduring another lecture.
“If you will excuse me.” Stephen rose and bid his brother farewell.
Before he could leave, Alfred Chesterfield entered the dining room. The marquess raised his hand to halt Stephen. “Where are you going?”
He met his father’s accusing eyes. “I am returning home to my wife.”
“She cannot remain your wife for long,” his father warned. “Emily Barrow is an unsuitable Countess. Her family was penniless, and after that scandal—“
“Enough.” Stephen’s fists curled, and he kept a firm rein upon his temper. “It is a legally binding marriage. You can do nothing to end it.”
He didn’t know why he was defending Emily or the impulsive move he’d made. A part of him still questioned whether he even wanted her to remain at his side. He hadn’t decided whether he wanted a wife at all. But he’d never let his father know it.
The marquess’s face turned crimson with fury. “If you persist in this farce, I shall cut off your funds.”
“I have investments of my own.” Stephen kept his voice deliberately calm.
“Do not presume to introduce her into society as your wife. I am warning you. You will not like the consequences.”
“Good day, Father.” Stephen brushed past the marquess, not bothering to hide his anger. Alfred thrived upon authority and controlling others. He enjoyed arguing, which was precisely why Stephen refused to engage in it. It was his own small measure of power.
For now, he would return home to Emily. Now that he knew the truth, there were decisions to be made.
Namely, whether or not he wanted to remain married to her.
Emily strolled into Mayfair, enjoying the late morning sunshine. She had coerced two footmen into escorting her instead of her maid, preferring their protection. Stephen had left her funds to purchase whatever she might need, but the coins made her uncomfortable.
It reminded her of how much she was bound to him. He truly had rescued her family, providing for Royce and Victoria. Her throat constricted, even as she stiffened her spine.
She’d been so distraught when the men had delivered Daniel’s body. And then to learn that her husband was missing…It had been too much to absorb.
She’d lived in a state of numbness, not knowing whether Stephen was alive or dead.
I won’t let myself fall under his spell again.
She’d been weak before, letting herself dream of him. She knew better now, didn’t she? He hadn’t loved her. He didn’t even remember her.
Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.
She gripped her reticule, pushing her mind back to the task at hand. Today she would go shopping. The children needed new clothes, and it would take her mind off her worries.
Stopping in front of Harding and Howell, she decided to purchase fabric for Victoria and Royce. The vast array of costly goods was dizzying.
She glanced behind her, to see if anyone had followed them.Don’t be silly, she told herself. Whoever had attacked her at Falkirk wanted Daniel’s belongings. He wouldn’t come after them in London.
Even so, it made her uneasy to think of it. Best to carry out her shopping and return home as quickly as possible.
She had worn her faded black bombazine gown, the one Stephen despised. In the simple dress, she was less noticeable than the more affluent women and a less likely prey for thieves. She had ordered the footmen to maintain a discreet distance while she visited the linen draper’s.
