Page 61 of What a Widow Wants

“You will not disparage Stephen in this house! I will not hear it.” Rising from his chair, the marquess shook with anger.

“Then I suggest you stop your ears, because I intend to enlighten you about your precious brother, although I suspect you already know about his escapades.” If the marquess didn’t know the extent of the merry hell his brother had fashioned for Fanny, by Jove he shortly would.

Theale held up a hand. “Spare me your sputterings. Of course I knew about Stephen’s indiscretions. Some from him directly, some from rumors in the ton. He was a man. A man has needs beyond the marriage bed.”

“Not all men.” Matthew cocked an eyebrow. “Or do you speak from experience, my lord? I’ve never heard your name bandied about in the on-dits of ton-nish circles, but perhaps you’ve been very discreet as well.”

“By God, you are impertinent, sir!” Red splotches appeared on Theale’s face as his eyes seemed ready to pop from his head.

Much as he despised the man for ignoring Fanny’s pain, he didn’t want the marquess to have an apoplexy—at least not until he’d told him of Fanny’s whereabouts. “I have done with you, my lord, if you will kindly tell me where Fanny is, I will remove myself before my impertinence grows.”

The marquess’s lips cracked open in a mirthless laugh. “You can go to the devil, and that harlot with you, if you can find her. I have no idea where she is at the moment. Running from you, perhaps?”

A qualm of doubt flickered across Matthew’s mind, then he brushed it away. Fanny would not have done such a thing and left Ella behind in this house. If Ella was here. There was one way to find out. “Doubtless running from you, I suspect. Did she take our daughter with her?”

Theale leaped up as though the chair had catapulted him. “Do not mention that bastard spawn to me. I rejoice in one thing alone—that Stephen did not live to hear that his daughter was your by-blow.”

Though cringing at the word, Matthew made himself affect a more casual attitude. “As I intend to acknowledge her as my child, I would like to see her now, if I may.”

“No.” The clipped word spoke volumes.

“She is my daughter.”

“Not under the law.”

“I would think you’d like to rid yourself of her,” now to deal the most punishing blow, “since she’s no part of Stephen at all. In almost ten years of marriage he couldn’t quite pass muster in the getting of children, could he?”

“You filthy cur. How dare you—”

“Tell me where Fanny and Ella are and I will be happy to leave.” Matthew placed his hands on the desk and leaned forward.

“You’ll do as I tell you, happy or not,” the marquess snapped. He opened a desk drawer and withdrew two letters.

Recognizing Fanny’s handwriting, Matthew’s heart skipped a beat.

“The strumpet gave these letters to a maid to be delivered this morning. Good thing the girl knows who holds the purse strings in this house and gave them directly to me. One”—Theale waved the folded letter as though it were a flag—“is of little importance to anyone.” He tossed it over his shoulder and it landed in the fire.

Matthew raised up, trying to make out the direction, but it had fallen facedown and all he glimpsed was the blob of red sealing wax, already beginning to bubble in the intense heat.

“The other one, however, may have some value to you.” The marquess held it up.

Heart hammering, Matthew read his own name and direction. “I’ll have that, my lord, as it’s addressed to me.”

“Yes, I’m sure you would like to get your hands on it.” Smiling, the older man caressed the paper, running his fingers around the precise edges. “I’ve no doubt she wrote telling you where to meet her. Once a harlot, always a harlot.”

Matthew lunged for the letter.

The marquess whipped a diamond-tipped cane up from his side, striking Matthew squarely in the stomach. The blow was weak, but unexpected and he went staggering backward. “Pity you won’t be able to find her.” With a cackle, Theale turned and tossed the letter into the flames. “My justice is swift. I wager she’s sorry she dishonored my family now.”

“What have you done with her?” Straining over the desk, Matthew seized the marquess’s shoulders and shook him like a terrier with a rat. “Where is she and my daughter?” It took all of Matthew’s strength of will to refrain from seizing the man by the throat and snapping his neck like a stick of kindling. He threw the evil lord back into the chair.

Theale straightened his coat, eyed him, and continued his raucous laughter.

A measure of dread filled Matthew’s heart. What had this fiend done with Fanny? “If any harm has come to her or her child, old man, I vow by all that is holy I will see you crackling in the flames of hell.”

Spinning on his heel, Matthew strode out, the sinister laughter unnerving him further. What had this lunatic done? If neither Fanny nor Ella were in the town house, then Fanny must have arrived yesterday and been sent away this morning. How could he find out for certain they were not still here? He could barge upstairs, but he had no idea where their rooms might be. Constables could be called to restrain him and he couldn’t afford to lose either time or his freedom. If Theale’s menacing demeanor was an indication of his abhorrence of her, Fanny might have need of him even now. The butler was obviously of no use to him, nor the servants in general. They lived with the marquess and likely understood his rages all too well.

The grooms, however, might be a different story. He’d fetch Spartan and discover what he could in the stables.