Leath’s voice vibrated with rage. “According to her maid, she left the house after dinner and hasn’t been seen since.”
“I still don’t understand what I can do about it.” Cam walked down the last steps to face down the fuming marquis. Few men matched Cam’s height, but Leath was well over six feet.
“If she’s missing, I’m sure there’s an innocent explanation.”
Leath’s snort conveyed no amusement. “Innocent explanation, my arse. She’s with that blackguard Harry Thorne.”
Ah, at last he knew why Leath had singled him out for this visit. Cam’s voice dripped hauteur. “The duchess isn’t her brother’s keeper.”
Leath’s attention skimmed past Cam. His glittering eyes narrowed. “No, she’s his accomplice.”
Pen spoke before Cam could dismiss the mad accusation. “I don’t know where Sophie is.”
Cam whirled around in surprise. Pen poised in frozen immobility a few steps above, one hand resting on the gilt banister. In her rich gold brocade dressing gown, with her shining black hair flowing around her, she stood like a queen.
He expected her to look appalled and shocked.
She looked appalled and shocked. And unmistakably guilty.
His heart slammed to a disbelieving standstill. “Pen?” he asked uncertainly, fleetingly forgetting their audience. He stepped back so he could see both Leath and his wife.
Pen didn’t glance his way. Instead she regarded Leath with a horrified comprehension that spoke volumes about her deceit. Her grip on the banister tightened until her knuckles shone white.
“Pen, go back to bed,” Cam snapped, feeling as though the ground crumbled beneath his feet.
“No, she needs to stay and tell me what she knows,” Leath demanded. “Sophie’s not at the Russell Square house. That’s the first place I went.”
“Cam, I’d like to help,” she said shakily.
“Haven’t you helped enough?” he muttered furiously for Pen’s ears only. When she flinched, he hardened himself against any guilt. She’d brought this on herself.
Cam saw a crack in Leath’s rage as he stared at Pen. He might be angry, but beneath his anger he was worried sick. “For God’s sake, if she’s here, tell me. I won’t punish her. I just want to know she’s safe.”
“Pen, just what have you done?” Cam growled.
She cast him a desperate glance, then focused on Leath. “Sophie’s not here. On my honor, I’d tell you if she was.”
“Madam, I wouldn’t trust your honor if my life depended upon it.”
Blind rage bubbled up and Cam lurched forward to land a solid punch to the marquess’s jaw. Whatever his wife had done, Cam wouldn’t stand for anyone insulting her.
Leath must be built like an ox. The bugger staggered but didn’t fall.
“Cam—” Pen gasped in horror, rushing down to hover behind him. Thank God, she didn’t touch him. Right now he was so enraged, he didn’t trust himself not to lash out at her too.
“You will apologize to my wife,” Cam said in a voice that shook with outrage. He curled his stinging hand at his side. Leath had a jaw like rock.
Rubbing his chin, Leath glared back with unconcealed hatred. “Like hell I will.”
“Please, I can explain,” Pen said desperately.
“Don’t bother,” Cam said coldly. He was so livid that he couldn’t look at her. Sick anger twisted in his belly like hissing cobras.
He clung to his rage. Beneath anger heaved an ocean of anguish. He’d believed Penelope Thorne was true gold. He’d trusted her in ways he’d never trusted anyone, not even his closest friends. And she’d betrayed him.
If those young idiots had eloped with Pen’s connivance—and every sign indicated that they had—there would be an almighty scandal. The kind of scandal that would dog their families for years. Pen’s interference had in the space of weeks undone Cam’s years of work to restore honor to the Rothermere name.
Once, that might have counted as her greatest sin.