“No, because that mean lady will not let her.”
He didn’t know if his headache grew worse from stress or his son’s words. He looked at his son. “What mean lady?”
“The lady me and Lizzy don’t like.”
Malcolm rubbed his forehead. Where was Jane? He couldn’t take any more of this, and she would certainly set things right with his children.
He inhaled, hoping to clear his head. “Son, we can discuss this later today. Right now, I have to get cleaned up and meet some men. Broderick is still in jail, and we need to help him.” He patted James’s cheek. “Do you understand?”
His son’s mouth drooped as tears fell down his face. “But Papa, that mean lady—”
“James.” Malcolm’s tone turned harsh. “We will talk about this later.” He stood, urging his son ahead of him. “Now run along and get dressed. Camilla is probably out riding, so have Jane help you.”
The boy’s chin trembled as he shook his head, turned, and fled from the room.
Malcolm’s heart wrenched, which certainly didn’t make his stressful headache any better, but he couldn’t concentrate on his son’s problem right now. Freeing Broderick was of the utmost importance, and he needed a clear head in order to think.
He hurried out of the study and up the stairs to his bedroom. He rushed through his morning ritual of readying for the day, and within an hour, he exited his room feeling more refreshed. Yet his heart still hurt for his friend.
On the way down the stairs, he passed Beth.
“Mornin’, Mr. Worthington.”
“Good morning. Have you seen my wife?”
She nodded. “Mrs. Worthington left the ’ouse early to go ridin’.”
“Thank you.”
He continued down the stairs and into the dining room. Breakfast had been prepared and set out on the table. James and Lizzy looked up at him when he entered, both wearing drawn expressions, both having red eyes that swam with tears.
“Why do you look so glum?” Malcolm asked.
Lizzy sniffed and swiped the back of her hand under her nose. “Mama is gone.”
He rolled his eyes skyward. “Lizzy, she will return, I promise. She is just out riding.”
“No,” James shouted, slamming his hands on the table.
Malcolm jumped and scowled at his son’s eruption. “James, you will explain this outburst.”
Squaring his shoulders, the boy pushed away from the table and stood. “Papa, you have to believe us. Mama is gone.”
Malcolm growled and ran his fingers through his hair. He strode around the table and grabbed his son’s arm. “I have heard enough. If you continue with this, you will spend the rest of the day in your room.”
“Papa.” Lizzy sobbed as she rushed to him and grabbed his free hand. Big, soulful eyes pleaded with him. “James isn’t lying. Mama is gone.”
He studied his children, saw their little hearts breaking over what must be a misunderstanding. They had never acted in such a manner before.
He knelt and wrapped his arms around them. “Please don’t cry. I’m certain she will return—”
“No, Papa.” Lizzy’s blonde ringlets bounced as she shook her head. “Mama is gone. But that mean lady you married is back.”
A different pain sneaked into his chest. All the air in his lungs left in a rush. With a deep, calming breath, he gathered his wits. “What do you mean, the woman I married?”
James wiped his eyes and swallowed. “Mama—the lady who loves us—is gone. The mean lady you married is here instead.”
Confusion swam in his head. The idea was impossible. Camilla’s sister was dead. “Kat’s back?”
