Mr. Cristofori at supper, and something he said struck me.”
It took a supreme act of patience for Blake to keep his smile in place. The woman had interrupted what had been about to turn into the sort of passion he’d waited ten years for because Niall had said something interesting at supper?
Niall seemed far more interested. “This is about the question I asked that dowager, isn’t it?” he asked, striding across the room to Miss Yates. “When I asked her if she knew who Annamarie’s lover is?”
“It is, sir,” Miss Yates admitted reluctantly. She fidgeted with the lace on the front of her supper gown and looked warily at Blake. “You see, I believe I know who he is.”
Someone could have fired a cannon in the room and Blake wouldn’t have heard it. His knees suddenly went weak, and he had to grip the back of the sofa to keep from falling over. The worst part of it was that his shock was not joy at finding Annamarie out at last, it was dread that they might actually locate her and that she might want to come home and resume the horrific life they’d been living.
“Tell us what you know,” Niall said with surprising gentleness, gesturing for her to have a seat.
Miss Yates held up a hand as she refused. “I will just say what I have to and be gone, if it’s all the same to you. My mother will be beside herself as it is over the way I ran out of Lady Inglewood’s party in pursuit of you.”
“Understandable,” Niall said.
“You know who Annamarie’s lover is?” Blake asked, feeling about five steps behind.
Miss Yates blushed deeply. “I believe I do. In fact, I believe I know where she and her lover and your children are.”
Blake’s knees gave out in earnest. He sat heavily on the arm of the sofa. “Please tell me,” he said, suddenly overwhelmed by longing for his children and guilt that he’d taken his eyes off of that prize for even a second.
“You see, I’m good friends with a Miss Mary Archibald. We were in school together, but she has since moved with her parents to Blackpool. She wrote to me just yesterday to tell me the odd story of her brother arriving in Blackpool with a duchess and three children. She refused to say who the duchess was, as she’d promised her brother she wouldn’t tell, but she is aware of the events of your marriage.” Miss Yates swallowed and pressed a hand to her stomach. “I believe the woman and children Mary was talking about are your wife and your children. And the man I am almost certain is her lover is Mary’s brother, Ian Archibald.”
Chapter 15
Niall felt the news of Annamarie’s whereabouts and her connection to Ian like a punch in the gut. Somehow, it didn’t surprise him at all that their old school chum would be involved in the sordid mess of the present. Ian had claimed to love Annamarie ten years ago, but whether he did or not, he had certainly vowed revenge on Blake for all the frivolous and imagined insults of youth.
That wasn’t what Niall cared about, though. What made his insides twist with anger and had his heart racing was the way all color had drained from Blake’s face during Miss Yates’s explanation and how he gripped the sofa until his knuckles went white. Niall could feel the pain and the rage he saw in Blake’s expression as though they were his own feelings.
“My children,” Blake said, voice wavering. “Are they well? Are they safe?” He rose shakily, but seemed to gain strength with every passing second.
“As far as I know, your grace.” Miss Yates took a frightened step back, seeming to shrink in on herself. “Mary didn’t say except that her mother found that caring for three restless children was an imposition, and she planned to demand Ian take his guests elsewhere.”
“Elsewhere?” Blake’s voice rose in tone and volume as he stepped toward Miss Yates.
Niall lunged forward to put a hand on Blake’s arm, holding him back from harming the messenger. “Do you know if they have plans to depart for America?” he asked the question he was certain Blake would ask, were he in a better frame of mind.
“I don’t know,” Miss Yates said, growing more upset by the moment. “I’ve told you all that I do know, really. Mary’s letter reached me yesterday, so she must have written it only a few days ago.