he held his breath. Lord Pembroke had returned—and he was damned early. According to Russell, the man spent every Wednesday afternoon drinking in White’s. They’d anticipated he would be gone for at least another four hours. The man stepped out of the carriage and headed straight up the stairs and into the house.
Guy clenched his fists. Freya would still be being interviewed surely? She couldn’t be anywhere near his wife. Not yet.
But what if she was? And what would any man who was keeping his wife under watch do as soon as he returned home?
He’d go to her of course. And then he’d come upon Freya. And then God knew what might happen. It was no good. Hiding in a damned tree would not help Freya. He had to get to her.
He didn’t need to figure out a plan. One had already implanted in his mind when they’d arrived. The tree at the side of the house would give him access to one of the windows on the second floor and was out of sight. Climbing the mature tree would not be much of a problem—he just hoped the windows were easy to open.
Then he could slip inside, find Freya and drag her out of there.
And hopefully not get caught.
Waiting until the streets were quiet, he hastened across, making a show of looking at his pocket watch when someone passed by with a tip of his hat. Once the man had gone, Guy slipped around the side of the house, flung off his hat and jacket then hauled his way up the tree, his boots scraping against the bark. Brown would have his head for the state of his clothing after this.
He peered into the window but saw no sign of Freya or any of the hired men. Which was good, surely? The chances were the housekeeper was still interviewing her. Maybe he would remain here and wait to see if he spotted her. Nothing odd or ridiculous about that. An earl sitting in a tree was a perfectly normal sight.
But what if she didn’t know Lord Pembroke had arrived? What if she still decided to go to Lady Pembroke and was caught? He muttered a low curse then leaned over to the window, using one hand to slide it up. The window moved. Which really left him with no choice.
It was practically an invite.
SLIPPING UPSTAIRS HAD been easier than anticipated. The baron kept few staff according to the housekeeper, something that irked her to no end. Given Freya wore a uniform borrowed from the earl’s household, it was no wonder no one had paid any attention to her while she moved through the hallway of the house. Now all she had to do was find the baron’s wife.
The housekeeper said she tended to stay in her rooms with no hint that there was any mistreatment, but Freya could not fathom how it had passed the stern woman by. She suspected the woman turned a blind eye or did not want to acknowledge the lady of the house’s treatment. Either way, it angered Freya to no end that none of these people thought to aid an abused woman.
She paused before turning the corner, tucking herself next to a generous plant and making a face when its leaves jabbed their sharp points into her skin.
Men. At least two, she surmised from their conversation. She inched around the plant. One of the men remained at the door to a bedroom. The man speaking with him wore expensive clothes. She sucked in a breath. It had to be the baron. She ducked around the plant when he turned, and footsteps thudded in her direction. She hastened toward the door, her stomach turning when the footsteps halted.
“Wait.”
She turned slowly, keeping her gaze cast down. “Yes, sir?”
Several more footsteps then shiny boots entered her line of sight. “Look at me.”
She lifted her head slowly. The baron had a thick head of silver hair, his face offering a hint of someone who used to be incredibly handsome. Age hadn’t taken a toll on his muscular figure and she could not help glance at his hand and picture what it must be like to be up against such a man.
“Who are you?”
“The new maid, sir.” She eyed the carpet between his boots. “Your housekeeper just hired me.”
“Oh did she? Bloody impertinent woman.” He put a finger to her chin, forcing her gaze up. “Are you discreet?”
“Always, sir.”
“I pay well if you’re obedient.”
“Yes, sir.”
He kept his finger under