Page 82 of How to Capture a Duke

“I need to see Lady Vere.” Tristan spoke before the man could open his mouth.

“Lady Vere is abed. Lord Vere is not home. Come back—”

“I am the Duke of Keswick and her brother-in-law. It is a matter of grave importance regarding my wife, her sister. I must to see her now.” His voice was unwavering and forceful, just as he’d practiced with Higgins. Only he’d never foreseen a need to use it for this purpose.

He was led into an elegant drawing room. Fifteen minutes later, Lady Vere, dressed in a nightgown and wrapper, stood in the doorway.

“Heavens, what is so important?”

“Where is my wife?”

“How should I know?”

“She is not here?”

“No. Why should she be?” Her eyes narrowed, and she stepped forward. “What did you do?”

He tried not to shrink under her accusing blue gaze. “I did nothing.”

“You are lying. I saw the gossip rag.”

Christ, who hadn’t?

“I saw, and I intended to reach out to Olivia,” she said, “but Alexander has a cold, and I’ve been with my son all evening. Pray tell me, what happened?”

What was the use in trying to conceal the facts? Olivia had left him, and he was desperate to get her back. “Only three people knew of my association with Horace Higgins. My grandmother, Olivia, and you.”

Lady Vere glowered. “You accused Olivia, and when that failed, you accused me, didn’t you? Naturally, Olivia protested, and I can only assume you two heatedly argued. Now, my sister is not at Keswick Hall and you fear she left you.”

Her brief summary was uncannily on point. “There are other aspects you have missed, but it shows you know your sister well. She must have confided in you regarding our relationship for you to summarize the day’s events so succinctly.”

Rather than admonish him as he expected, Lady Vere walked to a sideboard, poured two whiskies, and handed him one. He gratefully accepted it and took a swallow, but the expensive alcohol did little to calm his disposition.

“I once told you Olivia and I are close, very close, and if you harm her, you would have to answer to me,” she said.

“Olivia is here, then?” He hated the hope that crept into his voice.

“No. I already said she is not. But her sudden disappearance is cause for alarm. Has she packed her belongings?”

“Yes.”

She tapped her glass with a forefinger. “What else has Olivia told you?”

“Other than her fierce protest that you were not the anonymous source of the gossip rag?”

Lady Vere raised her chin. “I wasn’t. I would not act in such a cowardly fashion. If I wanted to hurt you, I would not have hidden my identity.”

Looking into her clear gaze, he knew she was telling the truth. The lady was made of sterner stuff. He recalled her direct confrontation the first day he met her. In hindsight, he admired her grit. “Then who told the reporter of that rag?”

“I have no idea. But that wasn’t what I was referring to when I inquired if Olivia has informed you of her other news. My sister is with child.”

His empty glass slipped from his fingers and bounced off the Aubusson carpet. He grasped a nearby end table then held on for dear life. If nothing was within reach, he feared he would have fallen.

Olivia was with child. His child.

Their child.

Months ago, the thought would have filled him with dread and fear. Oh, he felt fear, but a different type. A panic he’d never experienced gripped him for her safety—and for their babe’s safety.