“I don’t know what I would do without you, Edward.”
“Let’s not try it in any case, your grace.” A smile curved the corners of his mouth, and he exited the room.
Justin surveyed the tray laden with toast, eggs and sausages with a hungry eye. He quickly wolfed down his plate and then set the bowl of broth to the side to cool for Jillian.
When she stirred a few moments later, he slid into bed next to her and gently lifted her up so he could spoon the broth into her mouth. She licked her still swollen lips hungrily as he placed the spoon against them. When she was finished, she lay back wearily. “Thank you,” she whispered.
He pressed a kiss to her hair.
Edward burst through the door without knocking, an uncharacteristic scowl on his face. “He’s here, your grace. I made them wait downstairs.”
Justin rose quickly. “Jillian, love, I must move you to a different bed and it is imperative that you remain quiet. Do you trust me?”
She nodded, and he gently picked her up from the bed. A soft moan passed her lips as he made for the door. “God, I am sorry, sweetheart. I don’t mean to hurt you.”
“I’m fine,” she said through gritted teeth. “Do not worry about me.”
He hurried down the hall to his bedchamber and past the still open panel in the wall. Edward lit the candle, casting a soft light on the interior of the small room. Jillian was eased onto the cot, and then Justin and Edward hastily retreated, closing the panel behind them.
Justin strode down the stairs and into the room where Penroth stood next to the magistrate, impatiently tapping his boot. “Gentlemen,” Justin said as he stopped in front of them. “To what do I owe the honor of a second visit?”
“You know damn well why I am here,” Penroth spat, his cheeks bulging and a wild look in his eyes.
The magistrate gave Justin a pained look. “I beg pardon for our intrusion, your grace, but Lord Penroth has insisted that I search the premises for his wife.”
Justin arched an eyebrow. “I assume you have a warrant for such an endeavor?”
The magistrate handed Justin a piece of paper, and he made a show of carefully looking over it.
“Very well, then,” he said gesturing towards the rest of the house. “But be quick about it. My patience is wearing thin.”
Penroth threw Justin a triumphant look as he and the magistrate left the room.
Thirty minutes later the magistrate returned to the drawing room where Justin sat casually reading the paper. Penroth was close on his heels shouting obscenities and demanding Justin’s arrest.
The magistrate looked apologetically at Justin. “I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you, your grace. Rest assured we won’t be bothering you further.” He cast an irritated look in Penroth’s direction. “I suggest you remove yourself from the duke’s house before he demands your arrest. Your wife is not here.”
“And rest assured, Lord Penroth, should you ever darken my doorstep again, I will most assuredly have you arrested,” Justin said silkily.
Penroth stomped from the house, swearing revenge on the faithless bitch and her lover.
When they were gone, Justin let loose a sigh of relief. The need to get Jillian out of London was more pressing than ever. In Penroth’s current state, he would most assuredly kill her if he found her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The society papers were filled with the shocking accounts of Lord Penroth’s return and his wife’s engagement to the Duke of Whittington. Speculation surrounding the countess’s disappearance was rampant. London was uncharacteristically crowded for January as more of Mayfair’s residents flocked in, hoping to witness firsthand the delicious scandal.
Had Lady Penroth run away? Had Lord Penroth killed her in a jealous rage? Worse, had the duke done away with her?
Edward was kept busy turning away the many callers to the duke’s home. Finally they closed the great wrought iron gates, though everyone knew the duke was still in residence.
Lord Penroth put on a worthy act of an egregiously wronged husband. He cried foul to anyone willing to listen to his tale of woe, even going so far as to publicly accuse the duke of kidnapping and adultery. It seemed the whole of London waited with bated breath for the duke’s response.
Lady Bea was busy spreading a bit of gossip of her own. Aided by some of society’s most esteemed ladies, Lord Penroth was slowly becoming theton’smost reviled man, at least among the women. Many of the men sympathized with Lord Penroth, though they weren’t bold enough to do so publicly.
But the talk in the gentlemen’s clubs seemed to revolve around a woman’s duty to obey and a husband’s right to enforce that issue. Lord Penroth was no fool. He cultivated these men, these brethren in matrimony. What if their wives did the same? What sort of world would it become were women suddenly to take it upon themselves to break the bonds of marriage and do what they pleased? No, that wouldn’t do at all, they agreed over their drinks and card games.
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