Page 129 of The Scandalous Love of a Duke
A chair scraped the floor, and she turned to see Mr Wareham rising, though he was blurred.
He caught her arm and helped her stand.
She was dizzy and confused. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came. He whispered reassurance in her ear and his voice echoed in her head. Then she was being steered from the tea shop and they were out on the street.
She could not make her mouth move to say she wished to go home. Her lips were numb and her feet heavy. This was not right. Mr Wareham’s hand had wrapped about her upper arm and it hurt.
Mr Wareham stopped by a door only a short distance from the shop they had left, and withdrew a key from his pocket. When the door opened, she collapsed, falling onto wooden boards. A moment later, she felt him lift her. She could no longer see him, her vision was entirely black, yet she could feel herself being carried upstairs.
47
When John returned it was six o’clock. He knew he ought to have come back for luncheon to dine on his humble pie but it was not a meal he relished.
After a good hard ride, he had burned out his ire and started to think, rehearing everything Katherine had said, and listening.
It did not take much thought to know she was right. But letting people see who he really was, was something he did not care to do. So, instead of going home and apologising, he had gone to Harvey’s offices.
Harvey was certain Wareham was in London again, and probably using a false name, which meant they would only trace him by sight.
John had drawn a sketch and copied it over and over for each group of men who were searching.
In the afternoon John had joined one of the search parties, showing his sketch in inns. But as the sunset had painted the sky a bright pink, he had realised he could not delay his apology any longer.
John climbed the steps to the front door, which Finch held open, then passed over his gloves, hat and riding whip, leaving his grooms to lead his stallion away.
‘John.’ Mary was passing through the hall. ‘Have you been out all day?’
He smiled. He supposed he was in trouble with all the women of the house. They would sympathise with Katherine. No doubt his mother would have a few choice words to add to Katherine’s.
‘I was busy,’ he answered, about to ask where Katherine was. But before he could, a clatter of horses’ iron-clad hooves and voices reached from behind him through the closing door. Turning, he saw Harvey on the steps as Finch opened the door again. Behind Harvey, four men sat on horseback, and John’s groom was still hovering with his own mount as though someone had bid him wait.
John’s eyebrows lifted. ‘What is it?’
‘We have him,’ Harvey stated, grinning broadly, and lifting a roll of papers he carried.
John’s jaw set with the anticipation of revenge and looking at Mary, he said, ‘Go and fetch Papa. Have him come down, and tell him to hurry.’
Realising the urgency, she nodded, and hurried off.
Turning back to Harvey, John asked, ‘How? Where?’
‘The clue has come from his past, Your Grace, I…’ Harvey stopped suddenly and looked at Finch. ‘We should speak in private.’
As they walked to the library, blood pumped into his arteries, and a footman rushed ahead to open the door.
Once inside, John said, ‘Well?’
‘We traced his mother. She is here in London. One of the men visited her. Wareham has been calling there. She did not know he had been dismissed. Nor that he was stealing from Your Grace or the previous duke. When she was told, she broke down. The former duke is Mr Wareham’s father.’
‘His son?’
‘Mr Wareham was born before the duke’s marriage.’
John’s gaze fixed on Harvey.Good God!The old man was a fraud too. If Wareham had been born in wedlock he would have been the heir. ‘Was my grandfather supporting this woman?’
‘Yes, and he funded Mr Wareham’s education, then employed him.’
‘Yet, it was not enough recompense,’ John said.
