Chapter Five
Trentchester shoved to his feet, leaned over the walnut desk, and growled, “Where in the bloody hell is she?”
“I… I don’t know, sir.”
Incredulous, Trentchester reared back. “Any woman who has just given birth could not possibly have had the strength to get out of bed, let alone vanish! She must be hidden in her home—the cottage my brother put her up in has no more than a few rooms. Go back and do a thorough search!”
“But sir—”
Trentchester scowled at the man cowering in front of him. How did he expect the man to steal a babe, when it was painfully obvious that he did not have the backbone for that task, let alone to force his way into his dead brother’s home?
“Find Millicent! Do not come back until you have her and her babe!”
From the way the wretch stared at him, Trentchester knew he’d made a mistake hiring him. The man needed money, but did not have the heart for the task he’d been given.
“Well? Don’t just stand there. Go!”
The man spun around, stubbed his toe on the chair on the other side of the desk, and stumbled out of Trentchester’s study.
Incensed, Trentchester grabbed the closest object and hurled it at the fireplace.
Glass shattered. Too late, he realized, it still had brandy in it.
The scent permeated the air, adding to his fury.
It was a waste of excellent—smuggled—French brandy.
“Millicent’s babe has Trentchester blood… I will have a son and heir!”
He raked a hand through his hair, drew in a breath, and won the battle to gain control of anger.
He could not believe his sister-in-law had tried to hide from him.
When he learned that she had birthed a son, he knew his plans would finally come to fruition.
To that end, it was essential that he retain a calm demeanor.
No one must suspect what he was about to do.
Walking to the corner of the room, he yanked on the bellpull.
“Yes, sir?”
Trentchester stared at the footman without speaking. When the younger man did not show any sign of unease, he realized he should have thought to use one of his servants for this unorthodox task. “You’re new here.”
Squaring his shoulders, the footman replied, “I was hired a fortnight ago.”
Deciding the indirect approach would be best, Trentchester began to question the man, pleased to discover that, prior to being hired as footman, he’d been a laborer.
From the look of him, he could hold his own in a fight, and without a doubt subdue a recalcitrant woman.
Which suited Trentchester’s needs. The time for direct action—and a bit of force—was required.
“And are you happy with your position here?”
“I am, sir.”
He almost asked the man’s name, then realized it did not matter. After the man performed the duty required of him—to steal his nephew—Trentchester would see that the footman disappeared…permanently. Then there would be no one to question that the boy was his son, except his sister-in-law.
Bloody hell, he would have to amend the task to include Millicent’s abduction—and that blasted, interfering Miss Stanhope!
Once the two of them were in his clutches, he would see to it the Stanhope woman disappeared permanently, then he would use the infant to bend Millicent to his will.
He needed a wife capable of bearing his children.
First he’d have to plan an accident to befall his wife.
Trentchester nearly laughed—there was actually no need to worry about his own wife, as he did not plan to marry his dead brother’s wife…
yet Millicent would merely be the vessel that would carry his true son once he impregnated her.
Mayhap he would tolerate his wife for a bit longer until the babe he planted in Millicent was born.
The idea appealed and had him realizing that if he disposed of his wife permanently, he could marry Millicent. A fertile wife was preferrable.
“Will that be all, sir?”
Trentchester stared at his servant, but the man did not move, did not quail beneath the hard stare leveled at him. “I have a task outside of your normal duties. You shall be paid handsomely…but you must perform it without hesitation, without question.”
The footman did not bat an eyelash. “What do you need me to do?”