Miss Elvins.He hurried down the stairs as his steward crossed through the foyer, dropping a missive atop others for posting. “A moment, Quince? My study, if you please.”
Quince followed him into the study, ignoring a knock on the front door. Thorne moved behind his desk, planted both hands flatted on top of it, and leaned forward. “There is a young lady in the kitchens. See her on the next mail coach to London, posthaste. And we shall need to look into the matter of a temporary governess or nursemaid.”
“A young lady?”
“Yes, yes. Send her back to London.”
“Ah, Miss Elvins, I presume. Mrs. Metzger mentioned her. Of course, I shall handle the matter.” Quince inclined his head.
“About the other situation?” Thorne said. “Is Lady Kimpton aware of…”
“I fear so, my lord. Miss Hollerfield went into an early labor just as Lady Kimpton’s carriage pulled into the drive in the wee hours of the morning.”
Thorne scrubbed a palm over his face. “Good God, man, you didn’t allow her to—” He broke off at the wince on his steward’s face.
“I had no choice, sir. I tried to stop her, but, well, she was quite insistent.”
“Dear God. Are you sayingshewent to the hunter’s cottage?”
“The mother is still in danger. Lady Kimpton’s maid stayed behind to monitor the situation.”
“Danger.” Thorne dropped heavily into the chair behind his desk. “Was the doctor summoned?”
“He was unavailable, sir. Lady Kimpton’s maid does not hold out much hope… for either mother or child, I’m afraid.”
Thorne shook his head. Strange, Rowena hadn’t looked that close to delivery to him. But then his knowledge of those matters was slim at best.
“When did Lady Kimpton return?”
“Well after ten this morning.”
That explained the depth of her sleep, he supposed. His marriage was doomed.
Edward Ninnis, most recent Earl of Maudsley, stood just outside the Earl of Kimpton’s study in the entry hall at Kimpton’s estate in the godforsaken wilds of Kent. He sucked in sharp, short breaths to calm his fury. His wife had deliberately defied him. Apparently, he hadn’t pounded strong enough into that feeble brain of hers the message that she belonged at his house, not traipsing about the countryside with Kimpton’s Countess.
While the butler disappeared with his hat and cloak, Maudsley took advantage of his momentary seclusion and moved closer to a door that was slightly ajar. What softly spoken words he could ascertain didn’t make sense, nor did they matter. Someone was at the hunter’s cottage. Almost dead. He put the words from his mind and concentrated his efforts on how to extricate his disobedient wife without losing his temper.
Her refusal to give him a son gnawed at him like a flesh-ridden disease. He squeezed his hand into a fist, vowing to finish her off at the first opportunity. Teaching her another lesson at the end of his fist had certain appeal, but he meant to make it his last. In a concerted effort, he forced himself to calm, loosened his fingers, and felt for the lucky coin in his watch pocket. There were enough willing women about, able to sire an heir for an earl. Virginia would not have the last word in this.
Shuffled steps sounded, and Edward moved casually in front of a painting on the entryway wall. Its stark colors startled him. Sweeping strokes brought to life the scene of roaring storm clouds in shades from midnight blue to gray. Splotches of creamy yellow lightened the darkness and highlighted the water to another interesting shade of blue. A strip of orange stretched from one side of the canvas and tapered off at a slope on the other side. The effect was of a stream of brilliant sunset that burst through black clouds.
The scene looked remarkably similar to his Brighton sea cottage across England on the southeast coast. Edward tossed the coin up and caught it on its flipside. The motion never failed in soothing his frayed temper.
The butler stepped around him and tapped on the door. “Lord Maudsley, my lord.”
A long, telling silence followed the announcement, bringing a bitter smirk to Edward’s lips. He had his answer then. Kimpton was harboring his wife.
“Of course, Metzger, send him in.”
Edward pocketed the coin and pushed past the butler, stepping into a sparsely furnished study. The effect presented was one of space. Surprisingly, it was no less opulent than those with clutter and knickknacks scattered about. After he took care of the more pressing matter of Virginia, perhaps he’d consider redecorating his own study in a similar fashion. “Kimpton.”
The earl turned a cool gaze on him. “Maudsley, what brings you to the rustics?”
“My wife, sir. She’s not well, and I understand she traveled here with Lady Kimpton.”
The crease between Kimpton’s brows deepened with his frown. He cleared his throat. A clear sign his next words would not be true. “Er, no. Lorelei arrived late last night with her maid, as I understand it. I myself arrived just this afternoon.” Kimpton turned to a taller man who stood at one end of the desk. “Quince, may I present Lord Maudsley? My steward, Mr. Quince.”
“My lord,” Quince acknowledged. “Lord Kimpton is quite right. Lady Kimpton arrived with her maid and her footman just after midnight.”
