Page 62 of The Scandalous Love of a Duke (The Marlow Family Secrets #6)

When John returned it was six o’clock. He knew he ought to have come back for luncheon to dine on his humble pie but it was not a meal he relished.

After a good hard ride, he had burned out his ire and started to think, rehearing everything Katherine had said, and listening.

It did not take much thought to know she was right. But letting people see who he really was, was something he did not care to do. So, instead of going home and apologising, he had gone to Harvey’s offices.

Harvey was certain Wareham was in London again, and probably using a false name, which meant they would only trace him by sight.

John had drawn a sketch and copied it over and over for each group of men who were searching.

In the afternoon John had joined one of the search parties, showing his sketch in inns. But as the sunset had painted the sky a bright pink, he had realised he could not delay his apology any longer.

John climbed the steps to the front door, which Finch held open, then passed over his gloves, hat and riding whip, leaving his grooms to lead his stallion away.

‘John.’ Mary was passing through the hall. ‘Have you been out all day?’

He smiled. He supposed he was in trouble with all the women of the house. They would sympathise with Katherine. No doubt his mother would have a few choice words to add to Katherine’s.

‘I was busy,’ he answered, about to ask where Katherine was.

But before he could, a clatter of horses’ iron-clad hooves and voices reached from behind him through the closing door.

Turning, he saw Harvey on the steps as Finch opened the door again.

Behind Harvey, four men sat on horseback, and John’s groom was still hovering with his own mount as though someone had bid him wait.

John’s eyebrows lifted. ‘What is it?’

‘We have him,’ Harvey stated, grinning broadly, and lifting a roll of papers he carried.

John’s jaw set with the anticipation of revenge and looking at Mary, he said, ‘Go and fetch Papa. Have him come down, and tell him to hurry.’

Realising the urgency, she nodded, and hurried off.

Turning back to Harvey, John asked, ‘How? Where?’

‘The clue has come from his past, Your Grace, I…’ Harvey stopped suddenly and looked at Finch. ‘We should speak in private.’

As they walked to the library, blood pumped into his arteries, and a footman rushed ahead to open the door.

Once inside, John said, ‘Well?’

‘We traced his mother. She is here in London. One of the men visited her. Wareham has been calling there. She did not know he had been dismissed. Nor that he was stealing from Your Grace or the previous duke. When she was told, she broke down. The former duke is Mr Wareham’s father.’

‘His son?’

‘Mr Wareham was born before the duke’s marriage.’

John’s gaze fixed on Harvey. Good God! The old man was a fraud too. If Wareham had been born in wedlock he would have been the heir. ‘Was my grandfather supporting this woman?’

‘Yes, and he funded Mr Wareham’s education, then employed him.’

‘Yet, it was not enough recompense,’ John said.

‘We found a landlord who rented a room to a man looking like Wareham a few days ago. He recognised the image Your Grace drew. We are on our way there. I thought Your Grace would wish to come.’

‘Yes.’ John’s pulse raced.

A knock struck the library door.

‘Come,’ John called.

‘John?’ It was Edward.

‘Mr Harvey has found Wareham. Apparently he is Grandfather’s bastard. Do you wish to come?’

Edward’s eyes widened as his right hand curled into a fist. ‘Of course. Let me change.’ Edward turned to leave just as Finch knocked on the open door, the two nearly colliding.

‘A young lad delivered this a moment ago, Your Grace.’ Finch held out a folded piece of paper. ‘The child was told to bring it to the front door. He said only the Duke of Pembroke was to read it.’

‘Is he waiting on an answer?’ Walking forward, John knew it was from Wareham.

He took the note as Finch replied, ‘No, Your Grace, the child ran off.’

John felt the tip of a sword slip into his stomach as he unfolded the paper.

I have your wife.

The air left John’s lungs.

‘John?’

He thrust the note at Edward. ‘Is Katherine not at home?’

‘No, she?—’

‘We have to go.’ John looked at Harvey as Edward looked at the note and paled. ‘Give Lord Edward the address. He can follow.’