Seven Years Later
Wren
It wasn’t that Wren had never ridden by the home where Emilia had once lived, where he and Aiden had fallen in love with her and with each other all those years ago. He did so regularly, trying to will himself not to look at the place, always failing. In the last year, he had done so more often, drawn back by something he had seen on an investigation he’d taken. One he’d technically failed, though the man who hired him didn’t know that. But it had reminded him of the love he’d been trying to stifle for so long.
Now, though, he passed by the tidy row home on his way to a far grander place. An estate he also sometimes visited, though he hated to pass by because he feared what he would see within its walls. He had been called there and he reached into the inside pocket of his great coat as his horse slowed in heavier traffic, and fingered the heavy sheet of paper with the address and the single line:
Your presence is requested by Viscount Wilburn.
Emilia’s husband. Wren’s stomach turned at the thought, but he still managed to guide himself the rest of the way to his destination. He was met by finely liveried servants and led into a beautiful parlor just off the foyer where tea awaited on an impeccably carved sideboard.
Everything about this place was elegant. He could see Emilia in it. Feel her presence in every corner and his heart ached.
The door behind him opened and he turned to watch Lord Wilburn enter the chamber. The man was older than Emilia by twenty years, which would put him in his mid-forties. He was very tall, though not quite as tall as Wren, and had an intensity to his gaze as he swept it over Wren.
“My lord,” Wren said, and couldn’t help but glance behind the man to see if Emilia would join them as well. He had to believe she was the reason behind him being called here. Yes, he had a reputation as an investigator for men of the viscount’s ilk, but he couldn’t believe that his arrival was a mere coincidence of his status.
“Mr. Wren, at last we meet,” Wilburn said, his tone cold as the deepest winter. “Thank you for coming today.”
Wren tried to behave as though this were a normal day, a normal potential client even, though his heart was racing out of control. “I will say I was confused as to why you summoned me. There were no details in your missive, which is out of the ordinary.”
Wilburn motioned to the chairs before his fire and they sat, Wren trying not to worry his hands in his lap because he could feel his every move and word being judged.
“I thought that if I told you the reason for my request, you would not come,” Wilburn said, and his tone somehow became icier. “Or that you would arrive with sword drawn rather than as you are now.”
Wren wrinkled his brow. “I-I don’t know what you mean.”
“You keep glancing at the door,” Wilburn said with the hint of a smile that held no friendliness. “You think you are being subtle about it, but it’s obvious to me. You are looking for Lady Wilburn.”
For what felt like a lifetime, Wren froze. The two men stared at each other as the clock ticked in the background. Wren clenched a hand around the armrest of his chair and at last he said, “Your wife, the viscountess. I assume you must know we were acquainted with each other as children, so I suppose Ididbelieve she was the reason you called for me.”
“Knew each other as children. Yes, that is one way to put it,” Wilburn said softly. “Another way is that your father had dealings with hers. That you were allowed, by some miracle of her late father’s ridiculous lack of boundaries, to be herfriend. You and that other one…Mr. Edwards, the solicitor.”
Wren felt his nostrils flaring. “You do know quite a bit. Yes, the three of us were friendly as children. Her father was a second son, but more interested in his obsessions and hobbies than in societal expectations.”
“I ended that, though, didn’t I?”
There was such a cruel bent to this man’s words and to his growing smile. He seemed to be daring Wren to lash out and it took everything in him from doing just that.
“You and her father made an arrangement,” he said as mildly as he could. “As so many of your rank do. It allowed him to continue with his work and you received a bride.”
“A bride,” Wilburn repeated. “But hardly a wife.”
Wren flinched. “You obviously want to say something to me—why don’t you say it and have it out? I don’t have time for this game you seem to wish to play, my lord. I have other appointments today.”
“I think you’ll want to cancel those once you’ve heard my news,” Wilburn said. “You see, you could look all day at the door forEmilia, but she’ll never come. The viscountess was kidnapped yesterday morning.”
Wren jumped to his feet at that abruptly given news as the cold hand of abject terror gripped his heart and squeezed. “What? Emilia kidnapped? What do you know? Have there been demands? Was she injured? Did you employ the guard to your cause?”
Wilburn didn’t move from his seat and instead arched a brow. “Sit down, Mr. Wren.”
Wren stared down at him, so cool and settled, with his hands folded on his knee as if they were discussing nothing more important than the weather. “How are you not panicked, Wilburn?”
“Because she was taken by your old friend, Aiden Edwards.”
Wren sat back down with a thunk as he stared at Wilburn. “What?”
“Yes. Apparently his obsession with my wife, unlike your own, never cooled. He took her from this home yesterday—he was seen doing so by her maid. And given your past and the fact that his behavior must anger you…after all, you were once rivals for her, yes? Well, I thoughtyouwould be the perfect investigator to send to find them. To bring my wife back and make sure that the bastard who stole her will pay.”
