“N-no…” Pelham drew in a deep breath. “I’ve not run that fast in years…”
“Pelham, are you all right?”
“Not all of us have your physique,” Pelham said. “I ran all the way here. Your housekeeper thought I was going to expire on your floor.”
“What the devil’s going on?” Dexter asked.
“Your wife’s safe.”
Thank the Lord!
“Why do you look so distressed?” Dexter asked.
Pelham grimaced. “Because I’m going to get my ballocks chewed off for this. Anne swore me to secrecy.”
“Over what?”
“Your wife’s with us,” he said. “I pray Anne will forgive me, but you have a right to know.”
“Then I must go to her.”
A hand clasped his arm.
“Don’t go in like a charging bull, Hart, or I’ll regret telling you.”
“Then why did you tell me?” Dexter sneered. “To keep your banker sweet?”
“You can be an utter arse sometimes, Hart,” Pelham said. “I’m telling you because you’re my friend.”
“Has she told you what happened?”
“She was very distressed when I saw her, but my Anne will coax the truth out of her with kindness. You should try it.”
Dexter’s cheeks warmed with the notion of the gentle Mrs. Pelham knowing his business.
“Have you done something to be ashamed of?” Pelham asked.
When Dexter didn’t respond, his friend patted him on the shoulder.
“I’d advise you to take the gentle approach,” he said. “It’s better to use a sweet bait to snare the woman you love.”
“Love?”
Pelham laughed. “You may lack self-awareness, but the rest of us can see that which you’re blind to.”
“You returned to London a changed man,” he said. “The only difference was that you had that sweet woman by your side. For the first time, I saw you look upon another human being with tenderness. If that’s not evidence enough, then the fear in your eyes tonight, followed by the relief when you realized she was safe, would convince even the most hardened cynic of how deeply you love your wife.”
“Then what do you suggest?” Dexter asked.
“Come back with me now and talk to her,” Pelham said. “You’ll be doing me a favor, for I’ll need someone to share the brunt of Anne’s anger.”
“Your wife can curse me all she likes,” Dexter said, “as long as she releases my wife back into my care.”
“I wish you luck, my friend,” Pelham said. “I wish us both luck.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Another cocoa, Meggie, dear?”
Meggie shook her head and stroked the pug on her lap.
“Lady Guinevere has taken a liking to you,” Anne said. “Titan looks a lot like her,” she continued, setting her embroidery aside. “He has a patch of white fur under his chin, just there…”
She leaned over to tickle the pug’s chin.
“Who’s mama’s good girl, then?” The dog gave a little yap, and Anne laughed. “All right, you can have a treat, for you’ve taken good care of my friend tonight.” She glanced at the clock over the fireplace. “It’s getting late.”
“Would you rather I left?” Meggie asked. “I have no wish to impose or cause trouble between you and Mr. Pelham.”
“Harold does what I tell him,” Anne said. “But I think it’s time to retire.” She took Meggie’s hand. “Things will look better in the morning.”
The door opened, and Harold Pelham appeared.
Anne rose to her feet. “Is all well, my love?” she asked. “You look out of sorts.”
That he did, hair disheveled, face flushed, his expression could almost be described as guilty.
A shadow moved behind him, and Anne recoiled.
“Harold! What have you done?”
The shadow moved forward, morphing into the shape of a man.
Dexter…
Meggie let out a cry and shot to her feet. Lady Guinevere jumped to the floor with a bark of protest.
As he advanced on her, his body seemed to fill the room. Meggie backed toward the wall, reaching behind her. Her fingers curled round a candlestick, and she picked it up, drawing comfort from its solidity.
He glanced at the candlestick, and his jaw bulged as if he ground his teeth, then his dark gaze focused, unblinking on her.
“Harold!” Anne cried. “What on earth possessed you to betray me?”
“Forgive me, Anne,” Mr. Pelham replied, “but whatever’s happened between Hart and his wife, we’ve no right to interfere.”
“I promised my friend!” Anne cried. “She trusted me. She values truth and honesty, and you’ve let her down.”
Meggie looked away, no longer able to meet her husband’s gaze.
“What about my friend?” Mr. Pelham asked. “I did what I thought was best, and I’d do it again.”
“Please,” Meggie pleaded. “Don’t fight on my account.”
“Come with me, Anne,” Mr. Pelham said. “Let Hart deal with it.”
“Harold, I…”
“Mrs. Hart will be quite safe. Isn’t that right, my friend?”
Dexter nodded, his gaze fixed on Meggie.
Anne addressed Meggie’s husband. “Lay a finger on her, and you’ll answer to me,” she said. “I care nothing for what the law says.”
“Understood,” Dexter said, his voice a low growl.
He waited until they were alone, then he gestured to a chair.
“Will you sit?”
Meggie made no move.
“If you believe you’re in danger in my presence, Margaret, then sitting or standing, it makes no difference.”
“I’m glad you’ve clarified that,” she said, finding her courage. She tightened her grip on the candlestick and sat.
“May I sit, also?”
“Do you need my permission?”
“Yes,” he said. “I do.”
She nodded, and he sat. He said nothing, but her cheeks warmed under his scrutiny.
At length, he spoke. “Will you tell me your history?”
“Dexter, I-I’m sorry,” she said.
He raised his hand. “No, Meggie,” he said. “I asked for your history, not an apology. Will you tell me the truth?”
She lowered her gaze to the candlestick and ran her fingertips along the cold, smooth metal, tracing the pattern etched into the brass.
“About the child,” he prompted.
The long-buried memory resurfaced—pain she’d spent eight years trying to bury in the darkest corners of her mind.
“Meggie?”
She gripped the candlestick, taking comfort from its solidity.
“I grew up on the Alderley estate,” she said, “with the gamekeeper, Mr. Arnold, and his wife. I always wondered why the man from the big house visited me, though he never seemed to like me. But I always had to put on my best dress when he came.”
“Did you know he was your father?” Dexter asked.