Page 142 of A Portrait of Love

“Oh, you are here, Rebecca,” she said, sounding foolish to her own ears.

“Why are you running? What is wrong with everyone this morning?” Rebecca demanded before Honey could speak. “I passed Uncle Simon on the way here and he was behaving so strangely I was frightened.”

“He just wants to talk to your father,” Honey said, striving for a normal tone. “I’m going over to Whitcomb right now to join them,” she added, trying to smile and failing if Becca’s expression was anything to go by.

“But Papa isn’t at home. He’s went to Lindthorpe today.”

“Did you tell your uncle that?” Honey shot back.

Rebecca recoiled at her harsh tone. “Of course, I didn’t want—”

Honey turned to Bella. “Take Simon’s fastest horse and ride for the sheriff. Bring him to Lindthorpe.”

Bella didn’t argue or hesitate—she nodded and ran for the door.

“And Bella?” Honey called out just as Bella opened the door.

The other woman glanced over her shoulder.

“Bring a doctor, too.”

Once again Bella nodded, and then she was gone.

Heyworth stepped toward her. “Lady Saybrook, what is—”

“Meet me in five minutes in the stables.” Honey strode toward her chambers. “Fetch two pistols and saddle whatever horses Bella doesn’t take. Rebecca, you stay put—go to the library,” she called over her shoulder.

“But—”

“Don’t argue!”

“You want pistols my lady—?” the steward gasped.

“Just do it, Mr. Heyworth—there is no time to explain right now, my husband’s life might be in danger.”

Chapter Forty

After half an hour of riding hell-bent-for-leather, Simon’s temper had begun to abate and he slowed Bacchus to a canter.

What in the name of the hell was he doing rushing off half-cocked like this?

You’re thinking with your fists, Simon, just as you always do.

He grimaced at the all-too-apt description.

It’s time to leave the past in the past. Whatever Wyndham did with Bella, it no longer matters. You are married and in love with a wonderful woman. You are going to be a father.

His face creased into a smile at the thought, the joy in his chest so intense that he felt like he would burst at the seams.

But then Wyndham’s face thrust itself into his mind’s eye and he recalled how his brother had looked Simon in the face all these years, lying and manipulating the entire time.

It was true that what Wyndham and Bella had done with each other no longer mattered. But what his brother had done to him was something they needed to discuss—if not resolve—the sooner the better.

Besides, he thought as he glanced at a passing road marker; he was almost to Lindthorpe and there was no point in turning back now.

It would probably always bother Simon that his brother had betrayed him, but it was a long time ago and Wyndham’s life had been a such a misery at the time. Lord knew that Bella had been enough to tempt any man.

Whatever Wyndham had done, his brother was essentially an honorable man—Simon believed that with every fiber of his being. Wyndham would have suffered mightily for his sins all these years.