Page 108 of The Viscount and the Vixen
“Yes, m’lord. Please come in.”
He stepped through into an austere entryway and was led to an equally Spartan front parlor. Except for the roses, which reminded him of Portia. She so enjoyed her flowers. At least he knew that much about her.
Everything here was clean and tidy. She must have been appalled when he took her on her first tour of Havisham. No, she’d merely looked at everything and seen the potential. He wondered if she’d recognized the potential in him, if she’d known she could open him up as easily as she did the house. She could swipe away the cobwebs surrounding his heart and bring in the light.
Turning at the clip of footfalls, he wasn’t surprised by the stiffness of the man who entered or the grim expression of the woman beside him. Neither of them appeared to be the sort who ever laughed.
“My lord, I’m Reverend Gadstone and this is my wife. How might I be of service?”
“I’m looking for your daughter.”
He tilted his head to the side like a confused dog. “Florence or Louisa?”
“Portia.”
His wife gave a small gasp, while the reverend merely hardened his features into an uncompromising mask. “We have no daughter named Portia.”
“So I’ve heard. Is there anyone in the family who might not have judged her as harshly as you?”
His chin came up in a manner similar to Portia’s, yet Locke didn’t find it anywhere near as adorable or charming. Rather he had an urge to introduce it to his fist.
“She is a sinner, bringing a bastard into this world. Is it yours? Did you fornicate with her?”
“You’ll watch your tongue when you speak of my wife.”
Their eyes widened and both their heads snapped back as though he’d punched them.
“She’s your wife?” Mrs.Gadstone asked, clearly flummoxed by the notion.
He considered how any other woman who might have married him would have come here, draped in silk and jewels, arriving in a well-sprung coach, and lorded her newly obtained position over them, would have insisted they bow before her, address her by her title, and acknowledge that they were beneath her. But not his Portia, because gaining a title had not been her goal, had meant nothing to her. He’d come to realize that fact about her, but having it reconfirmed now only emphasized how badly he’d misjudged her. How he’d misjudged his own value. She’d needed someone to protect her and her child. Even if he possessed no title, no estates, he had it within him to shield her from the harshness of life. “She is. For some months now. She and I had a bit of a row. I’m striving to determine where she might have gone.”
“I’m not the least bit surprised that she ran away from you because things weren’t quite to her liking,” the reverend said. “She was always scampering off, hiding when she knew it was time for the switch, never willing to take her responsibilities, accept her due.”
“You took a switch to her?” Those who knew him were aware that his low tenor spoke of warning, of menace, yet Gadstone didn’t have the foresight to realize he was treading on dangerous ground.
“Often. She had the devil in her. Never sitting still in church. Never properly memorizing the Bible passages I gave her. Hiking up her skirts to chase after butterflies. She was incorrigible, refused to bend to my will.”
Jolly good for herhung on the tip of his tongue, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Little wonder she’d seen Beaumont as her salvation. It wouldn’t have taken much kindness on his part to win her over. “Has she any friends in the village?”
“None that would acknowledge her now. She’s a fallen woman, a disgrace. They would neither associate with her nor help her. They all know what she is,” he sneered.
She’d told him that she had no one, but still he’d had a difficult time believing she was completely, absolutely alone and without resources. Although since he’d judged her poorly when he met her, was he any better than these horrid people? He gave a quick impatient tug to his gloves. “What she is, sir, is a viscountess who shall one day be a marchioness. Yes, I can see why they might not wish to be seen in her shadow. I thank you for your assistance.”
“Pray you don’t find her, my lord. She will be your downfall.”
The need to hit Portia’s father had his muscles quivering with his restraint, but one did not strike a man of God. He walked past him—
To hell with it. He swung around and landed a good solid punch to that self-righteous chin. The blow had the man landing on the floor in a sprawl and his wife screaming. Locke bent low over him. “She is the most remarkable woman I have ever known. I will find her. If it takes me to the end of my days, I will find her.”
He strode out, mounted his horse, and began riding hard back to London. He’d known coming here would probably be a wild goose chase, but a part of him had wanted to see where she grew up, to meet her parents. That she had turned out to be so giving and kind was a miracle. That she was strong, not so much. She’d had to be to survive. They could have killed her spirit, but they hadn’t. He admired her all the more for not succumbing to their dictates. He would find her.
The Earl of Beaumont had never had as much luck playing cards as he was having this evening at the Twin Dragons. From the moment he’d sat down half an hour earlier, he’d taken every hand. This latest would be no exception. Fortune was smiling so brightly on him—
“I need a word.”
Christ, he nearly jumped out of his skin at the low rasp near his ear. He recognized the owner’s tone as one that didn’t bode well. He snapped his head around, his gaze slamming into Locksley’s, the green eyes indicating a high price would be paid for any disobedience. But he was known for his stubbornness.
“I’m otherwise occupied.” Did he have to sound as though his heart was lodged in his throat?
