“Ahem.”
Bugger.John had spoken aloud.
Coutts cleared his throat. “Perhaps you should discuss the matter your valet in private. Better still, your wife.” He glanced at Drummond. “My friend here oughtn’t have broken his client’s confidence. I’m sure there’s nothing untoward taking place. The Whitcombe family have banked with Coutts for generations—since our establishment, in fact—and we pride ourselves on discretion.”
Discretion—ugh. Charles’s father had used that word to justify his numerous affairs. Provided nobody knew of his infidelity, it mattered not whether it drove the Penham estate into near bankruptcy, or Charles’s own mother into such despair that she sought comfort in the arms of other men.
Is that what my Olivia has been driven to, on account of my own neglect?
But whatever his actions had been, there was no justification for deception.
Perhaps it was Fate’s way of repaying him for the sins his father had committed against his mother—a cruel twist of fate where the female sex redressed the balance against the male.
Coutts patted the seat of the chair next to him. “Come, Devereaux, sit, and I’ll stand you another brandy.”
But Charles didn’t need brandy. He needed to know what his wife had been up to in his absence. And in two days he’d have the answer.
Whether he liked it or not.
Chapter Thirty-Two
He’s home!
Olivia stood, flanked by the housekeeper and the steward, at the end of the line of servants, awaiting her husband’s arrival.
As soon as she’d heard the sound of hooves in the distance, her heart lifted. Then the carriage emerged through the trees like the sun breaking through a cloud after a long winter.
Had he been counting the days until he could see her again?
And…might she see him smile?
She placed a hand over her belly. Would he be pleased, or angry, when he discovered that she was expecting his child?
Her eyes misted with tears once more and she wiped them away. What was happening to her? Lately she’d suffered bouts of melancholy that had gripped her for no reason. She’d been taking Dr. Cheam’s tonic, which had reduced the nausea, though this morning she’d expelled her breakfast. But she assumed that was due to the anticipation of her husband’s return, for a little voice whispered in her mind that a part of her still feared him.
“Lady Devereaux?” A warm hand took hers. “Are you well?”
“I-I’m just a little apprehensive, Mrs. Brougham.”
The housekeeper patted her hand. “That’s understandable, ma’am. But he’ll be pleased to be home. He never liked London that much, and he’ll be delighted with what you’ve done.”
“Will he?” Olivia said, her confidence waning. “It’s his home, and Ihave no right…”
“You haveeveryright, my dear, and if he doesn’t appreciate the efforts you’ve made, then I’ll bend him over my knee and give him the strap.”
Olivia smiled at the thought of the housekeeper wrestling her huge master to the ground.
“Mr. Carlton can hold him down while I administer the punishment,” the housekeeper said. “What say you, Mr. Carlton?”
The steward nodded. “Anything you say, Mrs. Brougham. It doesn’t pay to disagree with you.”
Olivia suppressed a smile as the steward gave the housekeeper a look of devotion.
“There!” Mrs. Brougham said. “You’ve a little color on your cheeks now, ma’am. I feared you were going to swoon earlier. I don’t suppose you’re…”
Her voice trailed away as the carriage drew to a halt. A footman climbed down from the back and opened the door. Olivia’s heart fluttered as a huge hand appeared on the window frame. Then the world before her blurred and she caught her breath and tilted sideways.
A strong arm caught her waist.
