Page 38 of Never Tempt a Widow

“I have to touch you to be sure you’re real. It’s been over a year, and we were so worried. Those letters from Mr Reedman—he said he would free you after a year and a day. I wonder if we will ever be able to get our money back? Not that we resented paying it out—oh, no. Don’t misunderstand me.”

Fina accepted a cup of tea in trembling fingers but set it down untouched. “What money? Whatever are you talking about, Mama?”

Her mother’s eyes widened. “Why—the monthly ransom payment, of course.”

It was as well she hadn’t started on her tea, or Fina would have spluttered it out again. “Ransom payment?”

“So, you weren’t imprisoned at any point?” Her father was wearing the no-nonsense frown that always intimidated her. “Not even before you met Sir Rowland?”

She shook her head. “Prisoner?” This made no sense. What vile tricks had Dundas been playing upon her poor parents?

“I haven’t been a prisoner. I was free, but alone and destitute after he stole all I had and tried to drown me.”

“He did what?” Mama’s chest puffed out like an over-filled balloon, and she looked ready to explode.

Papa’s frown had become a look of pure shock. “He tried to drown my daughter? I’ll have him flayed alive, the rogue!”

This was all too confusing, and Fina didn’t know who was the more astonished by Dundas’ evil scheme—her parents, or herself. Yet it was heart-warming to know that they’d cared enough for her safe return to lay out money for a year and a day.

“Good day to you, Your Graces.”

The tension leached out of her body at the sound of Rowland’s voice. He stood in the doorway, looking knee-tremblingly attractive, with his skin bronzed by the sun and his blond hair falling in disarray across his forehead. His sleeves were rolled up, and he’d clearly come straight from the fields without troubling to change. Her husband evidently did not care more for convention than he did for her. Nor was he about to be intimidated by her parents. Concern was written all over his face as he gazed at her, and, after bowing briefly to their guests, he came to stand behind her chair, resting his hands protectively on her shoulders.

A grinning Felix helped himself to tea and sat next to Papa, who was staring in mute outrage at Rowland. “I apologise for Sir Rowland’s disarray, Your Grace. I warned you of his eccentricities, did I not? You see before you the husbandry side of his nature, rather than the noble one.”

Rowland’s hands tightened on Fina’s shoulders. She reached up to stroke his fingers and discovered that he wore no gloves. Excellent. It was high time he stopped feeling so self-conscious about so small a deformity.

“I’ve been hearing an extraordinary story from Felix here. I could hardly believe my own ears. We have all been victims of that despicable rogue Dundas Reedman—did you know he tried to steal my own son from me? I wish I had run him through the first time I set eyes on him.”

Fina found her voice again. “I wish I had, too.”

“You very nearly did, my love. I saw how you wielded that paper-knife in the garden.”

Papa was no longer scowling at Rowland. “I taught all my girls to fence—I greatly enjoyed the sport in my youth. But that’s neither here nor there. While we sit and try to untangle Dundas’ schemes, the fellow is getting off scot-free. I would like to see him hang for what he’s done. But he’s slippery as an eel—none of the human bloodhounds I employed was able to sniff the man out.”

“Never mind that now. I want to know exactly what happened to Seraphina. Why did you send us no word when you were in difficulties?” Her mama looked anxiously into her eyes, sending a thread of shame through her veins. Had Felix told them she’d been pregnant when she ran away? Could she bear to reveal that fact right now?

“We would like, if we may, to hear your side of the story first.” Bless him—Rowland had spared her the embarrassment.

“Very well.” Papa took a sip of his tea, then drained the cup and set it down with a clatter. “Seraphina vanished in spring last year. Since she had taken her jewel box and a few clothes, we suspected an elopement. How remiss we were as parents to make her consider such drastic action! And we had not the faintest notion of what was in the wind. But I digress. A few days after her disappearance, having scoured the county for any sign of her, we received a small packet. It contained a note from Reedman and a lock of Seraphina’s hair.”

Mama seized her hand and squeezed it tightly. “He claimed he was keeping you a prisoner, having tricked you into running away with him. He intended to keep you for a year and a day, then release you without ruining either you, or your reputation. Or so he said.”

“I don’t know how he planned to do that,” Papa growled. “Even if he laid not a finger on you, the stain would still be there. How could such a scandal concerning a duke’s daughter not attract attention? Anyway—a regular ransom payment was required, and at the end of the stated time, you were to be returned to us.”

“Forgive me, Your Grace, but what evidence did you have that the man spoke the truth?”

“Her absence spoke volumes, Cavendish—she was not the kind of child to rush off on a whim. Or so we thought. He sent a lock of hair each month to prove that she still flourished.”

Fina gasped. Dundas had, indeed, cut off some of her hair a few weeks before their proposed elopement. He must have removed more than she’d realised.

“It could have been another woman’s hair,” Rowland pointed out. “Little proof in itself.”

“There were scraps cut from her clothing as well, taken from fancy trimmings and turned-up hems. The maids recognised the material, and Seraphina’s sisters agreed. Reedman’s plan was well-conceived.”

Yes—and put in place at an early stage in their courtship.

“How could I have been so foolish?” Fina hid her face in her hands, and suddenly, she was in Rowland’s arms, and the urge to cry out her frustration and shame on his shoulder was almost overwhelming.

Almost. But she was Lady Cavendish now and had a son to care for and a position in Society to maintain. After a few faltering breaths and a reassuring kiss from Rowland, she turned to face her parents.

“I regret my stupidity in not recognising Dundas for the devil that he was. I believe I narrowly escaped death at his hands.”

“We feared you were dead,” exclaimed her mother, “when you didn’t return after the stipulated time, and the demands and the tokens stopped coming. I don’t know what more we could have done—we had moved Heaven and Earth to track the man down and free you from his clutches.”

“No. My moment of greatest peril was not then. It was on the very day of our departure from home.”

“That story can wait.” Rowland clasped her hand. “My wife is somewhat overset by all this. Much damage has been done, and we must resolve how to mitigate that damage, for everyone’s sake. And then, we must work out how to bring Mr Dundas Reedman to justice.”

She glanced up at him. “How can that be done when you have quarrelled with Lord Hanley?”

“I think he’ll be more influenced by the Duke and Duchess of Wolfingham than he ever was by me, don’t you? You must all dine with us—Your Graces, Felix. And once we are replete, we shall pay a call on my neighbouring magistrate and see what can be done.”

As she gazed at Rowland’s determined expression, Fina wished she could share his confidence. Dundas had laid his plans well and would not easily be brought to book. If they made a single mistake, he had the power to not only bring ridicule to the name of Wolfingham, but to that of Cavendish as well.

She would rather put a blade in him herself than allow that to happen.