Rowena sashayed to a cart holding an array of spirits, splashed golden liquid in a tumbler. “Brandy, darling?”
“This is not a social visit, Rowena,” Thorne fairly growled. “Perhaps we could stay on the topic at hand. Your notion of passing the babe off as mine won’t work, you know. I haven’t darkened the step of your door in all of ten years.”
“Alas, that is true,” she said sweetly. Her expression grew hard, bitter. “But I need money.”
And we both know who the father is.She didn’t say the words, but they hung in the air. The door opened, and a heavyset young girl poked her head through, her rich dark hair in disarray.
“Oh,” she said, surprised. She was quite striking, with dainty features and a timid demeanor despite her rounded size. She reminded Thorne of someone, but the name escaped him. “My apologies,” she whispered.
Rowena turned a stern frown on her. “I shall be available shortly.”
“O-of course,” she stammered.
When the girl stood there gaping at him, Rowena barked, “That will be all, Corinne.” Her words startled the girl. With a short huff, she disappeared.
Thorne shifted back to the matter at hand. “Have you word of my wife’s brother?”
“That blackguard?” she hissed. “No. Rumors are he’s fled the country.” Her eyes narrowed on him. “And thatyouare the one who instigated his disappearance.”
Thorne grimaced. “I suppose that’s why you decided to blackmail me.” It made perfect sense.
Rowena shrugged. “What else was I to do?” Her expression portrayed her well-honed cynicism. “I’ll not have my child harmed.”
He could see she meant every word, and sympathy touched him. She would not appreciate the sentiment, however. “Of course. I’m sorry.” Truly, he was. He ran a hand through his hair. “The truth of the matter is, I had nothing to do with the man’s disappearance.”
“I hope you never find him.” The ferocity of her tone stunned him.
“And why is that? You could marry and give up this... this life.” He grimaced, knowing he had contributed to that life as well.
“I wouldnevermarry that bounder. He is not fit to wipe the dirt from my shoe.”
“I see.” Though he didn’t. “In any event, I must locate him.”
“Ah, his sister is concerned, I take it.”
“To say the least.” Thorne paced the parlor, then stopped as the perfect idea... well, perhaps not perfect, occurred to him. He really had no choice in what he was about to offer. “Look. Might I suggest you vacate town for the small cottage on my estate in Kimpton? Suppose you… er… close up shop and… uh, settle there for a time.”
Her look of disbelief turned shrewd. No one would dare call Rowena a fool. She sipped the contents of her glass, then set it down abruptly. “Yes. I believe that is an excellent plan, my lord. But what shall you tell your precious wife?”
“That is the question, is it not?”
Ten minutes later Thorne made his appearance at the Peachornsbys’ rout. Whispers twittered behind him. Showing early was unfashionable, but he had a sudden desire to see his wife. He wouldn’t approach her, he just wanted reassurance of her physical well-being.
Tomorrow, he would step up his efforts to locate Harlowe. If he had any hope of keeping,pleasingLorelei, finding the lazy lout and making the fool confess his sins was the surest way of securing his wife to his side.
“Kimpton. Early for you, is it not?”
He let Brock’s sarcasm roll off his back. “I’m looking for Lady Kimpton. Have you seen her?”
Brock’s voice lowered. “I have. And I must say, she did not look so well.”
Thorne narrowed his gaze on his friend, his pulse jumping. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, she appeared pale—gracious, of course; beautiful, as always—but quite pale.”
The concern in Brock’s tone instilled a surge of panic. Thorne searched the ballroom but saw no sign of his flaxen-haired wife. “Did you speak with her?”
“No, although I’m quite certain she saw me. She sought refuge with Lord Griston.Deliberately.”
