The Defiant Wife (The Three Mrs #2) - Jess Michaels Page 0,74

pity for a moment, but she wiped it away and both she and Pippa pretended it had not been there. “Very good.”

Pippa forced another smile. “Is that all?”

“Yes, miss.” Mrs. Barton nodded and then slipped from the room.

When she was gone, Pippa sighed. Despite whatever she said to Mrs. Barton, she had no idea what she was, who she was, anymore. She wanted so desperately just to run away. To escape the sorrow that went along with her acceptance of her position in Society. Her acceptance that Rhys would not be hers.

Except she couldn’t run. Because of Kenley. And in that moment, she longed to see him. He would center her, remind her what was worth all the pain, all the loss she was enduring now.

She climbed the stairs and turned down toward his nursery. She gently opened the door and stepped inside. To her surprise, the room wasn’t dark as it should have been this time of night, but lit with candles. Kenley wasn’t in his cradle.

No, he was being held by Rosie Stanton.

Her dark hair was a little wild and her gaze teary as she snapped it from the baby in her arms to Pippa as she stepped into the room. Neither of them breathed for what felt like a lifetime.

Pippa’s heart throbbed as she whispered, “Rosie, please put him down.”

But Rosie did not release the half-asleep child. She just shook her head and said, “Stay where you are now. Don’t make me do something we’ll both regret.”

Rhys stared into the dancing flames of the fire in his parlor, his mind spinning away with their mesmerizing swirl. It took him to one place, one person, the one he had to forget. The one he couldn’t forget. Phillipa might have been right that they couldn’t pretend there was a future, but damn, it was hard to accept.

He had been struggling with it for a week. How many times had he ridden past her new home and stared up in the hopes of seeing her at the window? How many times had he asked his solicitor about Kenley because he wanted the man to say Phillipa Montgomery and remind Rhys that she wasn’t some fantasy he’d conjured in his head?

He felt like he was going mad.

“And so I decided to walk with the monkey and ride the clown.”

He blinked at the discordant words that Owen Gregory was saying and pivoted to face the investigator with a shake of his head. “What was that?”

“Ah, I wondered how long it would take for you to notice that I was speaking gibberish,” Owen said with a laugh. “Seven full minutes of me dancing with milk maids and deciding to crown myself King of Spain.”

“Seven?” Rhys repeated as his cheeks heated with embarrassment.

Owen shrugged. “If the clock on the mantel you’re gripping is correct. You were also so distracted that you even agreed to up my hourly rate to one thousand pounds. Shall I open a line of credit for you, my lord, and tell Celeste to start buying herself magnificent jewels?”

Rhys shook his head with a smile at the teasing. “Obviously I was woolgathering. I apologize, that does not make me a good host in the slightest.”

“I can handle a poor host. You are certainly not one of those normally. My larger concern is that you have not been yourself for days.”

“I am…preoccupied with discovering the whereabouts of Rosie Stanton,” Rhys said. “And I’m certain you answered this question while I was miles away, but bear with me and do it again. Where are we in the search for her?”

“All of us descending on her father’s tavern did not do us any good,” Owen admitted. “Any and all acquaintances are silent as the grave. There is still no indication Rosie has departed the country, but she has gone deep underground. I’ve lost her trail and I fear I failed you.”

Rhys’s stomach turned. “Not your fault. I’m sure my brother taught her all his tricks for subterfuge when they were making their plans.” He gripped his hands at his sides as rage boiled in him. “The woman pretended to be Phillipa’s friend and servant, all the while carrying on with my brother under her nose.”

Owen pursed his lips. “Then I suppose one could assume she has skills in chicanery.”

“And every reason to hide from me,” Rhys said. “The official declaration of Erasmus’s death might read as suicide now, but we all know that Rosie struck my brother down all those weeks ago. She must