t was obvious that Maudsley had given his servants the night off in light of his nefarious plans. Now that the bastard was dead, Thorne feared they’d never learn how dire those plans had been. He fingered the key he’d absconded with from Maudsley’s hidden chamber.
He bundled Lorelei, Irene, and Nathan in the carriage with Bethie and sent them home. “I have my horse, darling. I’ll be home soon.” He stopped her protest with a quick kiss.
After a tormenting interview with the constable, he and Brock strolled into the Kimpton town house. Irene, Cecilia, and Lorelei waited. Lorelei was in the lone wingback chair, while Cecilia and Irene were sitting on the bottom step of the staircase.
His eyes swept over the trio, settling on his wife. “Did I miss something?”
A silence filled the hall, and his gaze found Cecilia’s. “We wish to see our mama. Now,” she said.
“She’s dead, isn’t she?” came Lady Irene’s polite inquiry.
Lady Cecilia’s lip trembled. “She’s not dead! Don’t you dare say that.”
“She’s not dead.” Brock didn’t lean down and speak gently to the girls. He stated the fact with quiet confidence.
Brock turned to Lorelei. “With your permission, Lady Kimpton, I should like to accompany the ladies to see their mother.”
“It’s a bit late,” she said.
Thorne wanted nothing more than to end the most harrowing day of his life with his wife in his arms, but Lorelei was right.
“I predict these girls will sleep much better knowing how she fares.” Brock turned to Irene and Cecilia. “I must warn you, she looks worse for the wear.”
“What does that mean?” Cecilia demanded.
Her voice echoed against the walls, and Thorne winced. Couldn’t the child converse in a normal manner?
“She has bruises on her face. And a broken wrist.”
Again, Thorne winced. No soft words from Brock.
He went on. “But I do believe seeing the two of you will prove a much better cure than any doctor or medicine.” He glanced over at Lorelei.
Tears shimmered in her eyes and trickled over. She nodded. “Take Peg along, Lord Brockway. Young ladies require their maid.”
“Of course.” Brock held out his arms. “Shall we go, ladies?”
“One moment, sir.” Oswald rushed forward. “The ladies require their cloaks, if you please.”
Thorne snagged Lorelei’s hand and tugged her to the stairs as Oswald closed the door on Cecilia’s demands to pour tea for her mother.
At the top of the stairs, Thorne faced his wife. “We must still find Harlowe.”
Her eyes filled with more tears.
“Oh, Lorelei, I’m sorry. I’ll find him, whatever it takes.”
She pulled her hand from his and tucked it in her pocket. “I already told you I know you didn’t have anything to do with his disappearance.” She pulled out a folded sheet and held it out. “I found this.”
He took it and moved beneath a wall sconce. “I’m pleased to inform you that Lord Harlowe is no longer an issue,”he read. Thorne glanced at her. Her face was gaunt and pale. She’d endured too much already. And now this. He wished he could shake Maudsley alive, only to kill him again. This time with his own bare hands.
“I found it atop the desk in that… that torture chamber.” She went down the hall to her room.
Thorne followed, crossing the threshold and shutting the door behind him. “We shall find him, Lorelei. Someone will know something. However long it takes, we’ll find him. At the least, we shall learn what happened to him.”
She went to the window, passing a hand over her eyes. “I’m a horrid wife, accusing you of such vile actions.” She looked out at the night sky. “Demanding you pay me to stay. Using your honor to keep you from your rights as a husband. It’s unforgivable. Not to mention my inability to give you a child.”
“Is it?” He smiled. “Unforgivable, I mean?”
