Page 60 of What a Widow Wants

“Little you know about it, my lady.” The man sneered and dragged her small trunk from the back of the carriage. “His lordship was the one told me to do this.”

“What? He never would have ordered such a thing.” A trickle of fear slid down her spine, however. Theale had been incensed by her infidelity to Stephen. Would he have gotten his revenge in such a horrible fashion?

“Seems he did.” Davies dropped the trunk in front of her. The lock popped open and some of her clothing fell onto the grass. “He said when I left you to tell you this was with his compliments and a fitting end for a disloyal wife.” With those words, the coachman leaped back up onto the box, gathered the ribbons, and started the horses. They turned neatly in the field—Fanny shielded Ella as the carriage careened on the uneven grass behind them—then steered back onto the road and disappeared in a cloud of dust.

“Mama, where’s he going? Why is he going without us?” Ella’s tearstained face stared up into her own.

“Someone has played a very nasty trick on us, lovey. Here, let’s get up from the cold ground.” Fanny helped Ella to her feet, then stuffed her clothing back into the trunk. Once it shut, she sat down on the lid, all the strength running out of her legs. She stared down the road at the vanishing carriage, hatred for her brother-in-law raging forth as she called every evil curse she could think of down on his head. How could Theale do something like this to her? To her child? The old scoundrel must be deranged.

“What are we going to do, Mama?”

Their prospects were bleak at best. The road was empty and though the sun still shone, night would come all too soon. Still, she must put on a good face for Ella. She didn’t want her daughter to be afraid. “Let Mama catch her breath, my love. I’ll think of something.”

CHAPTER 26

Having handed his horse to a groom, Matthew ran lightly up the steps of the portico, raised the shiny brass lion’s head knocker, and let it fall with a series of loud booms on the plate beneath. Theale House sat on the far end of Hanover Square in Mayfair, an imposing three-story structure of whitewashed brick that had stood since the square had been created almost a hundred years before. A more prestigious address would be hard to find.

The door opened on an impeccably attired butler. The marquess had the reputation of being a stickler, insisting everything be perfectly correct, from his servants’ livery, to his house’s door knocker, to his pedigreed wife, to his own flawless dress.

“Good morning, my lord.” The man bowed, a precise movement that he must practice in his spare time.

“Good morning. I am Lord Lathbury. Might I inquire if Lady Stephen is at home?” Matthew stood poised to continue into the house.

The little man’s mouth tightened. “I am sorry, my lord, but I have been instructed to give no information about the lady.”

What the devil? Frowning, Matthew stepped back. “You cannot tell me if she is here? I believed she would have arrived yesterday.”

“I am sorry, but I cannot say.” The butler refused to meet Matthew’s eyes.

This was all deucedly odd. What had happened to Fanny? Cocking his head, Matthew stepped toward the somewhat flustered butler. “Who has given you this instruction? Your master?”

“That is correct, my lord.” Fear shown in the man’s wide eyes, almost completely white with only a dot of brown in the centers. So Theale was behind whatever had happened to Fanny.

“You refuse to tell me where she is.” Matthew pushed inside the doorway, the butler giving ground immediately.

“I am sure I don’t know where she is, my lord.” The small man put up a hand as though to ward off a blow.

“Then who would know?” Taking shameless advantage of his height and size, Matthew loomed menacingly over the man now cowering before him.

“His lordship.” The whimper was almost too low to hear.

Something was terribly wrong. A pit opened up in Matthew’s stomach. “Take me to him.”

The butler closed the door and scurried away, all his former aplomb dashed to bits. He led Matthew down the corridor, finally stopping in front of what looked like a library or study from the glimpse he got of shelves of books. Trying to shake off his unease, the man straightened his coat, raised his chin, and marched into the chamber. “Lord Lathbury.”

Striding in, Matthew assumed an air of disregard, as though he had no care in the world. He’d made the acquaintance of the marquess many years ago, though they had not met for some time now. A much older-looking Theale, cheeks jowly with deep lines about the mouth, sat behind a long desk at one end of the cramped room, in an overly large chair that seemed to diminish him further. A fire crackled in the grate behind him, framing him in flames. He bowed. “Lord Theale.”

Narrowed eyes met him over a mouth that snarled. “You are bold as brass to come here, Lathbury. Did you think that strumpet who married my brother didn’t tell me of her perfidy with you?”

Hair bristling on his neck, Matthew clenched his hands, lest his temper get the better of him. For sixpence he’d drive his fist through the marquess’s sneering face. “I will thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head, my lord.”

“You dare preach to me? Defiler of wives. Seducer of happily married women.” Theale seemed about to warm to his subject.

Matthew cut him short. “I don’t give a tinker’s damn what you say about me. You’re more than likely right, although I’d not say that Fanny was ever a happily married woman.” He held up a hand to stay Theale’s protest. “But she is a sweet, loving, and kind lady and you will not abuse her either behind her back or to her face. Not while I am within earshot of you.” He grinned. “My lord.”

Theale beat upon the arm of the chair. “Do you deny you cuckolded my brother?”

“Why bother to deny what you already know?” Matthew shrugged. “I comforted Fanny when her husband had hurt her most grievously. He had a treasure that he threw away with both hands. Do not blame me if I saw its worth and picked it up for my own.” Pray God he had not thrown the treasure away as well. “And why blame Fanny? Your brother was certainly no saint. His infidelities were legendary, both in scope and number. All the ton knew what he was. It’s only a pity Fanny did not until it was too late.”