Queen of my Hart - Emily Royal Page 0,85
chamber.
The first rush of fury had been tempered by the terrified look on his wife’s face. In truth, his anger was directed at that bastard Hanson. How could one man have caused such ruination? His beloved sister, and his equally beloved wife, had been duped into falling in love with that scoundrel.
With Daisy, Hanson had wanted to get his hands on Dexter’s fortune. Most likely, with Meggie, Hanson had been after Alderley’s.
As for the child…
It took two to make a child. Why, then, should his wife feel the need to conceal it from him? She must have known he’d understand.
Or would she?
He thought back to the day he’d explained Daisy’s history. His relief that she’d not fallen pregnant had stemmed from his hatred of Hanson, not out of any disgust at what Daisy had done. Yet, his harsh words to Daisy had driven her away.
And now he’d done the same to Meggie.
“Charles!” he roared. “Mrs. Draper!”
Hurried footsteps approached as the footman and housekeeper arrived.
“Have you seen your mistress?”
“Is she not in the study, where you ordered her to remain?” the footman asked.
Mrs. Draper gave him a sharp nudge.
“Begging your pardon, sir,” Charles said, lowering his gaze.
Christ—were the staff afraid of him also?”
“She must be in her chamber,” Dexter said. “Mrs. Draper, will you fetch her for me?
“Very good, sir.”
“And tell her there’s no cause for concern.”
The housekeeper exchanged a glance with the footman before bobbing a curtsey and disappearing upstairs.
Five minutes later, she’d not returned.
“Go after her, Charles,” Dexter said, crossly.
The footman disappeared after the housekeeper.
When they returned, Meggie was not with them.
“Is my wife indisposed?” Deter asked. “Or, perhaps…” he swallowed his pride, “…she doesn’t wish to see me?”
“She’s not there.”
“Where the devil is she?”
“She’s not in the house, sir.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
“He speaks the truth,” Mrs. Draper said. “We’ve searched everywhere.” She glanced at the door. “She must have gone out.”
“Why the devil would she do that?”
The servants exchanged glances.
His wife—his little Meggie—had run off into the night.
A small ball of fur appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Titan!” Mrs. Draper said. “Where’s your mistress?”
The dog trotted down the stairs, then stopped at Dexter’s feet and looked up with wide brown eyes.
“Where is she, Titan?” he asked.
The animal whined. Dexter stooped to pick him up, and the animal’s lip curled in a snarl.
“Come here, boy.” Dexter held out his hand. With a sharp bark, the dog gave him a nip.
“Ouch!” Dexter recoiled. He looked down to see two puncture wounds on his hand. A droplet of blood swelled on his finger.
“Shit!” he cursed. “Godforsaken animal!”
The footman picked up the little dog and cradled him defensively as if expecting Dexter to thrash the creature.
“Dear God, Charles!” he cried. “Stay where you are. What sort of man do you think I am?”
He grimaced. Bloody hell, that bite stung!
“Titan meant no harm, Mr. Hart, sir,” the footman said. “All animals bite when frightened.”
Or they flee.
What had Devon said?
You’ve driven all of us away. Don’t make the same mistake with your wife.
Dexter had made that mistake. Rather than endure the wrath of a judgmental, bad-tempered husband, she’d chosen the dark of the night and the streets of London.
“Charles,” he said. “Fetch my coat.”
***
Where would he even begin to look for her? She liked exploring Hyde Park—she’d often spoken of taking her dog there. But would she go alone?
Halfway down the street, a familiar figure loomed out of the darkness. Clad in a black cloak and living in the shadows, his brother looked every bit the mythical beast.
“Devon!” he cried. “Have you seen my wife?”
“Why on earth would I have seen her?”
Devon’s voice held more than the usual note of challenge.
“Do you know where she is?”
“What makes you think that?” Devon sneered. “Perhaps she’s come to realize what sort of man you are.”
“And what sort of man am I?”
“Bad-tempered, uncongenial, and with an unhealthy obsession with decorum to the detriment of kindness or compassion.”
“Bloody hell, Devon, you do know where she is!” Dexter fisted his hands. “Tell me what you’ve done.”
“I’ve done nothing.”
“Don’t play games with me!” Dexter cried. “Where is she?”
His voice caught in his throat, and the challenge in his brother’s eyes died. Devon had always been the physically stronger of the two brothers. But his scarred, gruff exterior hid a gentle soul.
Perhaps Devon should have married Meggie instead. With his kind heart, he’d never have broken hers. But Devon pined for another—a woman he could never have.
“Go home, Dex,” he said. “Your wife is safe.”
“Is she at your lodgings?”
“She refused my