Page 143 of To Catch a Viscount

Andrew frowned, and it wasn’t the latter affront he took umbrage with. “I wasn’t forced into marrying her.”

He’d been… incentivized, but that was entirely different.

The uncomfortable lecture was thankfully cut short by the frantic fall of footsteps in the corridor, followed by raised voices.

What in hell?

The door burst open, and his butler stumbled into the room.

“Your servants are rude, Waters,” Landon drawled. “All good servants know never to interrupt a game in play.”

Ignoring the marquess, Andrew looked to Thomaston.

The servant struggled to get a proper breath. “This arrived, my lord,” he said, and it was an indication of the seriousness of the moment that an always in-control Thomaston hadn’t bothered with a respectful bow. “I was instructed to give it to you posthaste.”

Frowning, Andrew came to his feet and took the note from the other man’s hand.

Andrew unfolded it and skimmed the contents, written in a familiar hand.

Waters, you’re as rot at watching after your wife as you are at paying your debts. I suggest you come collect your wife.

All the air left him on a swift exhale.

Andrew’s body went whipcord straight; every muscle clenched. His fingers curled tight around the edges of the page in his fingers, wrinkling it beyond measure. “Oh, God,” he whispered.

“What is it, Waters?” Rothesby asked behind him.

PS: Many felicitations upon your marriage to the lovely viscountess.

His stomach lurched.

Andrew remained motionless for several moments, afraid he’d shatter if he moved.

DuMond had her.

DuMond, the proprietor of one of London’s most dangerous clubs, and Marcia was there… alone.

He closed his eyes.I’m going to be ill.

“My lord?” Thomaston’s hesitant query brought Andrew rushing back, and a sense of calm and purpose stole through him as he gave life to that energy and not the paralyzing fear that came from thinking about Marcia alone with DuMond.

“My horse,” he barked, already striding for the door.

“What can we do?” Rothesby called after him.

“She’s at Forbidden Pleasures. DuMond has her.”

Both men cursed and quickly followed.

“I’ve already taken the liberty of having it readied, my lord,” Thomaston said, trailing after him.

His breath coming hard and fast, Andrew raced through the foyer. The doors hung open, and a pair of footmen stood in wait, anticipating his arrival.

He rushed through and took the steps sideways, two at a time, Andrew caught the reins of his mount from another servant. After scrambling into his seat, Andrew squeezed his mount. “Hyah,” he called and kicked his horse into motion ahead of his friends, who still awaited their horses.

As he rode through the streets of London, he kept his gaze forward and attempted to calm his frenzied thoughts. Panicking wouldn’t help her. She needed him to be calm. She needed him to have his wits about him.

And yet, a short while later, he was escorted through Forbidden Pleasures, and the sight that greeted him when he entered DuMond’s offices was anything but the ominous one he’d imagined the moment that note had landed in his hand.

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