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He had never seen such fury in her eyes as he had tonight when he had refused to help her.

Yes, he had meant what he said, but surely he could have found a better way to speak to her about such a delicate issue, rather than blundering through it like a bull in a China shop, and doing all but throwing Volk into Newgate with his own two hands.

Wyatt knew Gemma was blind to her father's flaws.

Not that he could blame her. She was fiercely loyal to her family—it was something he had always admired about her—but surely enough was enough.

For years, the Earl of Volk had done nothing but harm his daughters and shame his family.

It was high time he was forced to pay for his mistakes.

Nonetheless, Wyatt hated that he and Gemma had left things as they had.

He feared for Volk's safety as much as Gemma did, and there was no way he was just going to stand by and let these thugs storm Volk House tomorrow morning.

But Gemma had charged out of the parlor before he had had a chance to speak to her about it.

I have to find her.

He made his way back down the passage towards the ballroom. Hopefully he would find Gemma with her grandmother or sister. And in a room full of witnesses with a penchant for gossip, she would have no choice but to listen calmly to what he had to say.

Wyatt almost laughed. When she had left the library, Gemma had shown no sign of ever being able to listen calmly to anything ever again. How fierce and feisty she could be when she wanted to.

It's one of the things I love about her.

The thought brought an ache to his chest. Just hours earlier, he had been moments away from confessing his love for his wife, and promising her they would spend the entire next day curled up beneath the sheets in each other's arms. Now, it would be a damn miracle if Gemma ever let him into her bedchamber again.

He turned the corner into the passage that led to the ballroom, coming face to face with Jonah. “Anderson? What are you doing out here?”

Jonah hesitated a fraction too long. “Looking for you.”

Wyatt snorted. “Sure you were.” Whatever Jonah and his married mistress were up to, he did not have room to care. “Have you seen my wife?” he asked.

“No.” Jonah's gaze drifted over Wyatt's shoulder for a moment as though searching for someone. “I assumed she was with you.”

“Right.” Wyatt strode past him, distantly hoping Jonah and his mistress found somewhere to entertain themselves other than the ducal bedchamber.

He burst back into the ballroom and looked frantically around the crowd.

There were his and Gemma's grandmothers, huddled together in a corner of the room.

Gemma's younger sister was with them, nervously fiddling with a strand of dark hair.

The two older ladies had their heads bowed in what appeared to be a serious conversation. Gemma was not with them.

Wyatt cursed under his breath and made his way toward the group. Perhaps Lady Hilt could at least shed some light on where her granddaughter was. No doubt the Dowager Duchess would tear him to shreds when she heard he had upset his wife, but that was something he would have to deal with later.

“Your Grace.” Before he could reach the Dowagers, Wyatt felt a firm hand on his wrist. He whirled around to see Henrietta standing before him.

He looked down at her hand and she released it quickly.

She looked up at him with wide blue eyes.

Her lashes fluttered. “I need to speak with you. Urgently.”

“Not now.” Wyatt began to stride away, but Henrietta ran after him. “It's very important, Your Grace.” She pierced him with a suddenly fierce look that caused him to falter. “Trust me. You are going to want to hear this.”

Wyatt sighed. “You have thirty seconds.”

A tiny smile appeared in the corner of her lips, and she cocked her head, gesturing for Wyatt to follow her to the edge of the ballroom. “It is about Lord Anderson,” she said, her voice low. “And the Duchess.”

“What about them?”

“Well.” Henrietta's eyes darted left and right. “You know…”

Wyatt rolled his eyes. “Honestly, Miss Henford. Is that the best you can do? You truly expect me to believe my best friend is having an affair with my wife?” I never should have invited her.

I ought to have known there would be no chance at reconciliation.

Or acting like civilized human beings. “This is highly offensive,” he continued.

“To both me and the Duchess. And Lord Anderson, I might add. I will not stand to have you make such ridiculous accusations in my own home.”

Miss Henford's self-assured gaze did not falter. “Come with me, Your Grace,” she said brusquely. “I will show you.”

Wyatt sighed again. He really did not have the time for this.

He had to find Gemma. Whatever Henrietta had to show him, it was clearly rubbish.

But perhaps acquiescing to this ludicrous request was the quickest way to put an end to all this nonsense.

And hopefully, stop her from making another attempt at shaming Gemma.

Resigned, he followed her across the ballroom and toward the foyer. “I saw Her Grace disappear up the stairs,” she told him conspiratorially. “And then Lord Anderson went up there moments later.”

He raised his eyebrows. “That is what you are basing this farce on?” he said witheringly. “The fact that you saw them both go up the stairs?”

At least I know where Gemma disappeared to. Why did she go upstairs? Is she changing? Packing her things? Does she plan to leave? The thought made his stomach roll.

But before he could make his way towards his wife's bedchamber, Henrietta stopped in front of the door to the guest room. “In here, Your Grace,” she said. “Look!” She flung open the door dramatically.

Two screams echoed in the hallway: one belonging to Henrietta, and the other to the woman beside Jonah in the bed.

Jonah scrambled into sitting, while the woman beside him hurriedly pulled the sheets up over her bare body.

Wyatt stared in disbelief, shaking his head.

It was no surprise, of course, that the woman in bed with Jonah was not Gemma. But he had not expected this.

Henrietta's voice came out as little more than a squeak: “Mother?”