Page 41 of Never Tempt a Widow

The constable cleared his throat. “By dint of careful investigation, we found Mr Reedman’s lodgings and gained entry. Several items were discovered that we suspected might have been stolen. I showed them to his lordship here, and he immediately demanded that I accompany him to speak to you, since Mr Reedman is known to you.”

“Not by my choice,” Rowland responded grimly. He’d rather he had never set eyes on the fellow.

The constable stood and fished in his coat’s deep pockets, then handed Rowland a locket on a gold chain, and a folded piece of paper. Resting the jewel on one knee, he opened out the page and scanned its contents.

Bile rose in his craw. It was a note addressed to the Duke of Wolfingham, requiring one further enormous ransom payment before Dundas would release Fina. Rowland made to tear the paper asunder, but the constable leapt up and prevented him.

“We may require that as evidence of the writer’s pernicious plans, sir. Although I understand the gentry can’t abide scandal, so it will only be presented if needful. Take a look at the locket, if you will.”

Rowland flicked it open to find a miniature portrait which he immediately recognised as Fina. The inscription inside the lid of the case read, “To my daughter Seraphina, on the occasion of her 16th birthday.”

Fina’s locket. It must be one of the jewels from her box, the one she later discovered that Reedman had filled with stones. This jewel alone could have paid for a doctor to attend to the sickly Adelina. Rowland gripped it until the hinges bit into his skin. His jaw was stiff with fury, but hope threaded through the rage.

“So—we have enough evidence to damn the fellow to the fires of hell, do we?”

The constable smiled. “We certainly do, sir. Though—if you wish it—we will only produce these two items should the sentence not be considered sufficiently weighty. We would not wish to place any burden upon you, your wife, or her family.”

“Horse theft it is, for now.” He had to hope it was enough to condemn Reedman and free Fina from his shadow forever. And if not, the locket could be used as further proof of Reedman’s villainy—no one need know the circumstances under which he had taken it.

Rowland got to his feet. “Well, gentlemen, if you have finished your drinks, I must let you get about your duties. I have several things to which I must attend.”

He showed them out personally, then returned to the drawing room door, and paused outside it.

This was the good news Fina had most wanted to hear, and suddenly he had no intention of presenting it to her in front of an interested audience. He wanted them to be alone when she expressed her joy.

Opening the door a crack, he poked his head into the room. Every head turned in his direction.

“Seraphina, my dear, you are needed. Um… Edgar is calling for his mama.”

She was on her feet in an instant, and Rowland made his apologies to their guests, claiming they would return shortly. Taking her hand, he pounded up the stairs with her in tow and led her, not to the nursery, but to his chamber.

His heart was pounding like a fulling hammer. “My love—I have some excellent news for you.”

“About Edgar?” Her brow furrowed.

“No—not about him. Not directly, anyway.” He kissed away her frown. “But before I share it with you, I need to know if you love me.”

Her eyes widened. “This sounds as if it is not good news. But yes—I do love you.”

“Then let me tell you that I have it within my power to make you the happiest woman on earth. Now, and for always.”

She shot him a coy look. “That is a grand assertion to make, Sir Rowland. But tell me—why must you give me this news in your bedchamber?”

He grinned. “Because I think you will be most grateful to hear it. And I want to be in a position to benefit from that gratitude.”

“Oh, just tell me, you abominable fellow!” She pretended to punch him in the shoulder.

So, he told her, and her gratitude proved just as ardent as he could have hoped for.

And he swore that, until he drew his last breath, there would be no further obstacles to their happiness.