Page 69 of Wager for a Wife

“Ah, Mother!” Lord Anthony said in an overly cheerful tone. “Look who has come to call! I must be going—”

“You stay right where you are,” she ordered, pointing a finger at her son, who immediately stopped in his tracks. “Why are you here, Lord Farleigh? I was distinctly given the impression”—she shot a fiery glare at Lord Anthony that should have singed the man’s eyebrows—“that you have been at Farleigh Manor the past two days playing host to my daughter and son.”

The gray mass in William’s stomach shot up into his throat. “I . . . what?” he choked out.

“Anthony, would you care to explain to Lord Farleigh and me what precisely is going on?” Lady Ashworth asked in a commanding voice, which meant it wasn’t a question.

“I think you must have figured it out for yourself, Mama,” Lord Anthony answered sheepishly.

William went cold all over and sought to steady himself. Louisa had gone to Farleigh Manor. She would know by now what a wretch she had agreed to marry. She would have seen how destitute the estate was. She would have met . . . devil take it!

In being less than forthcoming, he had deceived her horribly. How could someone as open and honest as Louisa think otherwise or ever forgive him?

There had been so much at stake that it had truly seemed the right approach, the only approach, with the situation intensified by the discovery of Miss Purnell and Peter and Daisy. He should have been forthright with Louisa from the beginning and trusted her honorable nature rather than hold everything tightly within himself.

“Lady Ashworth,” he said, “if you will excuse me, I must be on my way.”

“I think that’s an excellent idea, Lord Farleigh,” he heard her say as he swiftly took his leave. “And Ashworth and I will be right behind you.”

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