Dexter gritted his teeth, swallowing the red-hot ball of fury in his throat.
“What is my wife to you?”
“My lady patroness,” Hanson said smoothly. “She opened her legs even faster than your sister.”
“It was you?” Dexter asked. “Dear God! What possessed you to ruin her? Did you expect payment from her father as you did from me?”
“That old skinflint!” Hanson scoffed. “But I’m sure you’re prepared to be generous. A man can disown his by-blow, but it’s more difficult for a prominent banker to deny the existence of his wife.”
“You think I didn’t know that my wife lay with another man?”
“Men,” Hanson said. “I wasn’t the first. Doubtless, you suffered the same disappointment on your wedding night that I experienced when she offered herself to me. I’m sure we both know when we’re bedding a virgin”
“You filthy bastard!” Dexter curled his hands into fists.
“Think about it, Hart,” Hanson said. “What on earth possessed a miser such as Alderley to pay for her upkeep? A woman like her can make a fortune on her back.”
Dexter reached out and grasped the man’s collar. “Insult my wife again, and I’ll kill you!”
“Did she tell you about her child?”
Dexter’s blood froze. “You lie.”
“Never told you that, did she?” Hanson grinned. “She said it was mine, but who knows? I heard she spread her legs for half the population of Blackwood Heath.”
The spring snapped. With a roar, Dexter slammed his fist into Hanson’s leering face. Then he grabbed him by his lapels and frog marched him out of the office and down the stairs.
The footman in the hall barely turned a hair as he opened the doors. Dexter propelled Hanson onto the street with a push, where he fell in a heap on the pavement.
“Come back here, Hanson, and I’ll have you shot!”
“What about the money?”
“Keep the bloody money,” Dexter said. “You’ve lied, seduced, and blackmailed your way to it. But it won’t make you happy. Not for a man like you. For that, I pity you.”
“And I, you,” Hanson said. “For you’ll never be happy. Not with her.”
“Get rid of him,” Dexter told the footman. “If he comes again, you’re at liberty to use force.”
“Very good, sir.”
“And then, tell Mr. Peyton to see to things here. I’m leaving early.”
“Shall I tell him where you’ve gone, sir?”
Dexter clenched his hands, but it did nothing to lessen the pain in his heart.
Neither did it obliterate the fact that Meggie had lied to him—had betrayed him.
“Tell him I’ve gone home,” he said. “There’s something I need to discuss with my wife.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
When Meggie returned to the house, it was unusually quiet. There should have been more activity upstairs, yet none of the first-floor windows showed any signs of light.
Perhaps Dexter was working late at the bank or dining at his club.
Her feet ached. It would be good to sit after a long day’s volunteering with Anne, and with Dexter out of the house, she could allow herself some liberties and take a footbath.
She smiled at the prospect of sitting in the kitchen with her feet in a tub of hot water, sprinkled with lavender, one of Mrs. Preston’s remedies.
The door opened as she ascended the front steps, cradling Titan in her arms.
“Ah, Charles,” she said. “Would you ask Mrs. Draper to arrange a footbath? In the parlor this time, if my husband’s out.”
“The master’s at home,” the footman said. “He wishes to see you in the study.”
“Very good,” she said. “Tell him I’ll see him once I’ve settled Titan in his basket.”
“I’m to take you to him immediately, ma’am.”
“Charles?” A ripple of apprehension threaded through her. “Is anything wrong?”
He gestured toward the study. “If you please.”
The study door was ajar as if Dexter were listening for her return. A solitary candle flickered on the desk in the center of the room. He sat behind it, his face illuminated by the flame.
“Husband?”
He reached forward and picked up a beveled glass, the light catching the pattern etched into the crystal.
She moved closer. “Dexter?”
“Leave us, Charles,” he said quietly. “Close the door behind you.”
After the footman left, Dexter gestured toward the chair in front of the desk, and she sat.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“I want to discuss the money.”
“Is this…” she hesitated, “…about Daisy?”
“No.”
“Then what is it about?”
He lifted the glass slowly and took a sip. His silent control unnerved her more than his raised voice.
“I was rather hoping you’d tell me.”
“Forgive me, Dexter. I don’t know…”
He held up his hand, and her voice died in her throat.
“I had a visitor today,” he said.
“At the bank?”
“A man with one thousand pounds to invest.”
Icy fingers caressed the back of her neck. “Oh?”
“Is that not a coincidence? The same sum you obtained from me three nights ago?”
“I’m sure it’s not an uncommon sum to invest.”
“Are we going to continue this charade all evening?” he asked. “Please do not insult my intelligence by feigning ignorance. My visitor, as I’m sure you’re aware, was a Mr. George Hanson.”
She curled her fingers around the arms of the chair.
“Do you have nothing to say?”
“It’s not what you think,” she said.
He frowned. “What do I think?”
“That I’ve been unfaithful.”
He remained motionless, staring at her as if trying to read her thoughts. Then he set the glass aside in a slow, deliberate gesture.
“Untruthful, at least,” he said.
“I-I thought he’d gone.”
“Gone?”
“He said that once he had the money, he wouldn’t tell…” She broke off, her cheeks flaming.
“Let me guess,” Dexter said. “He promised to leave you alone, and you believed him. Can’t you see that if you pay a man like that to hide your sins, there’s no guarantee he’ll desist?”
“You knew when we married that I wasn’t…”
“That you weren’t a maiden? If I recall, I knew no such thing. I had to discover it for myself.” He tapped his finger on the desk. “And now I find you continued to deceive me, even after we pledged to be honest with each other.”
She lowered her gaze, unable to look at the disappointment in his eyes. The ticking of the clock grew louder. Eventually, he broke the silence.
“Were you never going to tell me about the brat?”
She drew in a sharp breath.
“Deny it if you dare.”