Meggie shook her head. “I cannot.”
“That bastard Hanson was the man who ruined my sister. You gave birth to his child!”
She shrank back under the force of his anger, and he raked his hand through his hair—hair she knew to be soft and silken, hair she loved the feel of under her fingers.
“I knew you were keeping a secret from me, Margaret,” he said.
“You did?”
“Aye, but, fool that I am, I’d assumed you were with child. My child that is, not another’s.”
Her heart shuddered. “Dexter, surely you’re not accusing me of…”
She was interrupted by three sharp knocks on the door.
“For fuck’s sake!” he roared. “Am I to be plagued by everyone today?”
The door opened, and Charles’s face appeared, pale with fear.
“Mr. Peyton’s here to see you, sir,” he said.
“Can’t you see I’m busy?”
“He insisted.” The footman flinched as if expecting a blow. “He said there are several documents requiring your signature, which were due to be issued today.”
Dexter swore.
“Bloody Hanson! Not content with ruining my wife, his timewasting threatens to ruin my business.”
The footman glanced at Meggie and widened his eyes.
Dexter rose to his feet. “Tell Peyton I’ll see him in the parlor,” he said. “As for you,” he turned to Meggie, “Stay in this room until I return. I’ll deal with you later.”
He ushered the footman out of the study and slammed the door behind him.
I’ll deal with you later…
He’d used those same words the day he had Milly thrashed for swimming in the lake.
Anger replaced fear. How dare he threaten her! Did he think to punish her as he saw fit if she did anything he happened to disapprove of?
Yes, he did. And the law was on his side. He could do whatever he wanted with her. And nobody would stop him.
But, worse than the fear of punishment was the knowledge that she’d lost her husband’s trust.
And his love.
She rose from her seat and opened the study door. Charles was nowhere to be seen. Raised voices came from the door across the way. This was her chance. She tiptoed across the hallway, pulled open the main doors, and ran out into the street.
***
The sun had disappeared, and Meggie increased the pace to warm her limbs. She should have taken her shawl, but her instincts had told her to leave the house as soon as possible.
After a while, she heard footsteps from behind, and she stepped up the pace. At the end of the street, she turned and headed toward Hyde Park. The footsteps drew closer, and a ripple of fear threaded through her.
Someone was in pursuit.
She turned into a side street and broke into a run, then slammed into a wall of muscle.
Two hands grasped her arms, and she wrinkled her nose at the stench of cologne.
“Steady on, lover! Your eagerness is showing,” a familiar voice said.
She looked up into George Hanson’s eyes. With a cry, she struggled to break free.
“Kicked you out already, Megs?”
“Leave me alone!” she cried.
“Oh, Megs,” he said. “I thought we’d renewed our friendship.”
“You were never my friend,” she said. “But you’ve made one fatal mistake.”
“Which is?”
“You’ve killed the goose, George,” she snarled. “I don’t care who else you tell, for you’ve told the one person who matters to me. And my husband won’t care enough to buy your silence.”
He tightened his grip, and she winced.
“Unhand me,” she said. “Now.”
“You heard the lady,” a new voice said.
George’s eyes widened, a hint of fear in their expression.
Meggie turned to face the newcomer.
Tall, with thick black hair, he wore a dark cloak capable of melting into the shadows. A mask concealed the upper half of his face.
His shadow, cast by the moonlight, stretched across the pavement. “Unhand her,” he said, “or you’ll suffer the consequences of assaulting a lady.”
“Lady!” George scoffed, “she’s nothing but a…ow!” He reeled back as the newcomer slammed his fist into his face.
“Leave,” he said. “Now. If I see you in London again, I’ll shoot you.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” George said. “I’d have you arrested.”
“A difficult accomplishment from beyond the grave, but you’re welcome to try.”
George’s eyes widened, and, like all bullies, he quaked in the presence of a stronger opponent. He turned and fled.
“Major Hart, what are you doing here?” Meggie asked.
“I could ask you the same thing,” Devon Hart replied. “Why are you on the streets at this hour, and why are you buying that man’s silence?”
She hesitated. His eyes showed compassion, and she believed a loyal heart beat in his chest. But blood ties ran deep. Loyalty to his brother would triumph over any compassion for her.
She shook her head. “I can’t tell you that,” she said. “I must go.”
“Has my brother already driven you away?”
She wiped away the tear which had splashed, unchecked, on her cheek, and a warm hand clasped hers.
“Forgive me, sister, I can see you’re distressed,” he said. “You’re not obliged to tell me anything. Shall I take you home? Dex will be worried.”
“I can’t go back.”
He sighed. “What’s my brother done now?”
“He’s done nothing,” she said, her voice cracking. “It was me.”
“A sweet creature like yourself can’t have done anything my brother would disapprove of,” he said. Why don’t I take you home and knock some reason into his addled brain?”
“I deceived him,” she said. “I lied to him, and he’ll never forgive me.”
He glanced along the street, but George was long gone.
“I take it the rather handsome man you were grappling with has something to do with it. Have you been unfaithful to Dex?”
“No!” she cried. “I’d never…” She broke off and shook her head. “It happened before I married your brother.”
“And you kept it a secret?” He let out a curse. “Dex bloody hates secrets.”
“N-no, he knows I wasn’t…”
“He knows you weren’t a maiden?” His expression softened. “He would have realized as soon as…” he hesitated, “…unless you and Dex never…” He shook his head. “I always thought he was a master at bedsport.”
Her cheeks heated with embarrassment. “He found out the day we married.”
“That was months ago!” he cried. “Bloody hell, I knew Dex bore a grudge, but he seemed happy with you when I last saw him.”
“He was,” she said, “until today—when he discovered I had George’s child and concealed it from him.”
She looked away, unable to bear his disappointment. Strong arms pulled her into an embrace.
“Oh, Margaret!” he cried. “You ran away rather than face him?”