McKay stood there.
The sight of the butler,hisbutler, standing before him so calmly, nearly undid him. Rage clawed up from his chest, nearly blinding him.
But McKay did not flinch.
He looked Gideon full in the eye, as if he had been expecting him all along.
“Good morning… Mr. Tarnley,” McKay said smoothly.
The name landed like a blow.
Gideon’s jaw clenched.
“Where is my wife?” he demanded. His voice was low, guttural.
“She is not your prisoner, nor your wife in truth. She is with thetrueDuke of Caerleon,” McKay replied evenly. “And she now understands everything.”
“To hell with your riddles!” Gideon stepped forward, but McKay barred the way with surprising boldness.
“I owe you no explanation. My loyalty has always been to His Grace.Aaron Tarnley. I served as his valet, then his butler, long before you usurped his name. I came to you only to learn what I must. And I have betrayed no one.”
“You are keen to prove it,” Gideon hissed. “I have not accused you, and I do not care. I only want to find my wife.”
McKay’s eyelids flickered. As good as a gasp of astonishment from another man.
He was ready to defend himself and is surprised that I did not accuse him of treachery.
Gideon’s fists curled. He longed to break the man in two for his treachery. But he controlled that impulse.
I will prove to Catherine that I am not the General any longer. I am a Duke. A gentleman. And I do not resolve problems with mindless violence.
McKay’s impassive face gave nothing away, but the faint stiffness of his shoulders betrayed unease.
“Let me through,” he grated at last, his voice dangerously quiet.
McKay hesitated a moment. Then moved aside.
Inside, the hall was dim, lined with the dust of disuse. And standing in the doorway opposite, smirking as if the world belonged to him, was the Earl of Stafford.
At the sight of him, Gideon nearly lost that narrowly tethered control.
His muscles tensed for violence, every instinct screaming to hurl the man against the wall and choke the laughter from his throat.
“Ah,” Stafford drawled. “The usurper himself. What an unexpected pleasure.”
“Where is she?” Gideon’s voice cracked like a whip.
Stafford arched a brow. “So eager! Do not fret. She is safe, though perhaps not in the sense you mean.”
Gideon stepped forward, but Stafford raised a hand. McKay appeared beside him, holding a sheaf of papers.
“Before you indulge your… baser instincts, Mr. Tarnley, there is business to discuss.” Stafford’s tone oozed mockery. His smile deepened at the use of such an ordinary title, denying Gideon his rank.
As if I care about that meaningless title!
“Your business venture with Sir Obadiah. Your shares, your influence, worth quite a sum. Here is the deed transferring them to me.”
Gideon did not so much as glance at it. His eyes were on Stafford. He barely blinked as he stalked across the hall to confront him. His breath hissed between gritted teeth; his hands were clenched into fists behind his back. The grip with which one hand held the other was all that kept Stafford in the land of the living.
