Theo stood dressed, ready to go despite her usual morning symptoms. How she’d managed it was a testament to Mary’s patience and her own fortitude. But manage it she did, and all so she could storm her husband’s castle and engage in battle. She’d given him a day, which was twenty-four more hours than she’d wanted to give. And to her frustration, she still had seen neither hide nor hair of him.

That was a state that would be remedied in a very short while. She merely had to make it three blocks, and then she could demand he set aside whatever business he had put before their marriage. It was outside of enough, and she planned to let him know.

Marshaling her reserves to carry her downstairs, she took her coat from the dowager’s butler and headed down the street. On foot. There wasn’t a book, bauble, or investment that could have enticed her into the confines of a carriage at the moment. Not even for a three-block jaunt.

With each step, she reinforced her resolve. She reminded herself of the fact this was Stone’s second such transgression, and he’d had the nerve to use the resolution of the first incident against her at the house party! She had trusted him, surrendered her heart and soul to him, and he had trampled both without a care. If he did not come forward with sufficient reparations, she would have to sever the intimacy of the relationship. They would revert to the cold Society marriage she had dreaded all along. And while it might kill her to do so, she would find a way to make it work so that her child did not want for anything.

But then there was no further time to ruminate. She arrived home, and before she could place her hand upon the doorknob, Parsons greeted her as though she often entered the house via the front door before nine o’clock in the morning. “Good morning, Lady Stonemere.”

“Parsons.” She handed him her coat. “Is my husband at breakfast?”

“I’m afraid Lord Stonemere isn’t in residence this morning.” Parsons stood holding her coat, his face ever impassive and uninformative.

Theo paused and considered this bit of information. Her husband had been known to forgo breakfast on occasion. “Has he gone to the railway office?” She reached for her coat, assuming she would simply hunt him down.

“No, my lady. He is gone to Southampton with his brother and Lord Brougham. I believe they are hunting.” Parsons intoned the news as though he had just announced breakfast was served.

“And did he say when he would return?” She bit her lip, trying to curb her freshly ignited fury.

“He did not, my lady,” Parsons replied.

“I see.” But truly, she did not see. His mother had stated he was addressing some business related to his brother. And yet Parsons said he was off hunting. Without a foreseeable return date. Though she had not subscribed to too many of her mother’s edicts growing up, she did not believe in causing a scene—even in one’s own home—if it was avoidable. “Parsons, I shall need my coat back. Also, if you would please send word immediately upon my husband’s return, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“Very good, my lady.” Parsons assisted her with her coat. “May I call the carriage around for you?”

“No, thank you. I shall walk.” It was both good for the digestion—regardless that she had not had more than a toasted crust of bread—and it would be good for the excess energy she’d acquired along with the news of her husband’s whereabouts. In fact, three blocks might not be sufficient to calm her fury before she spoke to the dowager countess.

With clear intent, she returned from whence she came. Once in the dowager’s home, she sought her out. As usual, the dowager countess sat in her sun-filled sitting room at the back of the house. “Mother Stonemere, there you are.” Theo swept into the room and plopped onto the settee closest to her mother-in-law.

She peered very closely at her embroidery hoop and then jabbed the needle into the material before looking up. “Good morning, Theo. You are up betimes and looking in the pink.”

“Thank you, my lady. I am feeling much better, though I must say I had the strangest conversation with Parsons this morning.” Theo had calmed a bit, but was still distressed over her husband’s apparent abandonment.

“Wherever did you see Parsons at this hour of the morning?” She stabbed the material once more and pulled the thread through.

“Why, at my home, of course. I decided I was ready to see Stone and discuss our differences. But to my surprise, Parsons informed me that my husband is off hunting with his brother and best friend.” Theo watched the dowager’s expression for any evidence that she might know more than she had previously revealed.

Her quarry paled a bit. “Hunting, is he?”

“Quite so. And here I thought he was addressing a pressing issue related to his brother’s return.” Theo raised a brow as she waited for a response.

The dowager stabbed at the needlepoint again and went right through the material and into her finger. “Oh dear!”

Theo leaned forward, partly concerned that her mother-in-law had pricked herself and partly aware that she had the woman dead to rights. She certainly knew something. “I don’t think you bled on your needlework. Perhaps you should set it down while you tell me what is afoot with my husband. I daresay something is going on here that I have been specifically left out of.”

The dowager looked abashed at being caught out in a fib. “Fine. He preferred you not to know, but he didn’t forbid my telling you, and besides, it’s too late at this point.” She set her needlepoint aside and faced Theo. “Achilles has set off to draw out the man who has been trying to kill him. I assume they are pursuing this issue at Lord Brougham’s hunting lodge.”

Theo gasped, and her heart fluttered. “Whatever do you mean?”

As the dowager explained what little she knew, Theo grew angrier and more afraid for her husband. By the time the dowager was through, Theo could barely sit still to wait for word of his return. And yet, under the circumstances, she had no choice but to be patient and wait.

---

Morning came far too early for some members of their party. Stone and Odey left Cooper behind, nursing an aching head from an excess of drink. The two of them, trailed by Wolf, Linc, and Flint, wandered off in a more easterly direction than they had previously followed. They tracked a stag into a clearing, and unmindful of their purpose, became caught up in the hunt. Halfway across the open field, Odey stopped.

Stone noticed his pause but kept his eyes focused on where he had last spotted the deer. “Don’t stop now, we’ve nearly got him.”

“’Chilles, look at us. We’re sitting ducks here.”

Odey’s comment had Stone turning to face him.

“Bloody hell. How could I have forgotten?” He glanced once more in the direction he last saw the stag. With a sigh of resignation, in part because he was sure this was all a waste of time, he stepped toward Odey. “If we dash over that way”—he waved toward the tree line a hundred paces to their right—“we can get some cover in a jiffy.”

As a single unit, they turned and started in that direction, when suddenly the tree bark ahead exploded, followed by the report of a rifle. A stinging in his arm flared as he and Odey dropped to their stomachs, and then a second shot rang out. Still down despite having rolled over, they saw Flint tussling with someone across the meadow. They rose and bolted toward the two men struggling for control of the rifle. Behind them, Wolf and Linc were charging in, clearly having wound up on their side of the clearing.

As they neared the two men, the gunman slammed a fist into Flint’s face, which had the man laughing. “You’ll need to make a better effort than that, old man.”

“Bloody toffer!” Stone recognized the voice even from a distance and under the strain of the fight.

The gunman was Hugh Denton, his cousin.

With a curse, he lunged toward the two, but had to pull up short as Hugh swung the butt of his gun wildly. He managed to clip Flint in the head and break free. Twenty paces back inside the tree line, a horse stood waiting for him. In a matter of seconds, Hugh bounded onto the horse and took off through the forest.

Stone lifted his hunting rifle and sighted the man’s torso as he made his escape, but at the last moment, honor refused to let him shoot a man in the back, and certainly not a family member. Though, clearly, his cousin had no such compunction. Odey also carried a weapon, but his marksmanship lacked compared to Stone’s military-honed skills. With a curse, they made chase, but were nowhere near as fast as a horse, even in the denseness of the forest. After ten minutes, he and Odey gave up and went back to check on Flint and the others.

They found the three of them walking, Flint with his head bandaged by a length of what appeared to have once been his shirt. Stone hated that anyone was hurt, though they’d all known the risk when they’d agreed to help. “Is everyone well?”

“We are,” Linc said, and then nodded at him. “But you seem to have been winged.”

Stone looked down at his arm in surprise. His fawn-colored hunting coat bore an unexpected red stripe. “Blast it, this was a favorite jacket.”

“Here, we should bandage you up and head back to the box. Did you see who it was?” Wolf asked as he tore his own shirt to provide a bandage.

“I’m rather unhappy to say I did,” Stone said as his friend wound the strip of cloth around the wound and tied it off.

“Whoever it was, he was a puny thing, and I’d appreciate another go at him without the rifle to hand.” Flint’s hands fisted, his simmering violence a palpable thing.

“I suspect that can be arranged, unless our cousin skips town before we can catch up with him.” Odey took Stone’s weapon. “Let’s head back and collect Cooper. I’d say if we hurry, we can at the very least match his return to London, if not beat him.”