Of course, he had suspected she’d met with her sister the night he discovered her sneaking out of their home, but he hadn’t expected this brutal blow to his gut on learning she’d kept it from him. Then again, he had been on the path of justness at the time.
Warton, however, Ambrose hadn’t seen that coming at all. And now the man was making a scene in front of his wife.
Fury gripped his gut.
How dare this man enter his home in such a fashion?
“So you are the one who aided my wayward sister-in-law with her escape,” Ambrose drawled.
“And you are the controlling bastard who won’t afford his wife the pleasure of an extra piece of toast.”
Christ, the toast again.
Had anyone cared to ask him, he would have told them the content of Cook’s bread was highly nutritional and no more than one slice was required for nourishment. In fact, more than one slice would swiftly plump you up.
“Not to mention an inglorious cur that sent three mercenary riders to snatch up a lady.”
Willow’s sharp intake of breath inflamed Ambrose’s temper towards Warton. This was not how his wife was supposed to discover the truth. There were supposed to be lovemaking and breakfast and confessions.
“Perhaps we can take this to my study,” Ambrose ground out.
“To hell with your study, I want to know where the hell you are keeping Holly!”
Ambrose folded his arms over his chest. “And what business do you have with her?”
“I know you took her against her will, which is kidnapping and against the bloody law.”
“I did no—”
“You found my sister and did not think to inform me?” Willow accused, a mere whisper.
Ambrose blanched at the hurt in his wife’s voice. He wanted to soothe her, take her into his arms, but with Warton standing on, looking smug as a cat, his limbs froze in place. Dammit, alone, after he tossed Warton out on his ass, he’d tell Willow the truth.
This was a family matter. And Warton was not family.
“It is of no concern—”
“Of mine? Holly is my sister. Am I to understand, then, that your brother is no concern of yours?”
Christ. That was not what he meant to say. Ambrose turned to his wife, his eyes imploring her to understand. “That is not what I said. Willow, let us talk—”
“As of yet, my father has not permitted the union. So you have no right to take her without her consent.”
Ambrose stared into her despondent eyes. This was spiraling. He needed to get the matter straight with her now but doing it in front of Warton was out of the question. The man was intent on taking his anger out on him and was bound to twist anything Ambrose revealed.
“Your father agreed to consider my terms—one of which is that she may remain on my property until he has done so.”
“He only agreed to your insanely idiotic terms because I am here to keep an eye on her. Where is my sister?”
“She’s not here.”
“You said—”
“I said on my property, not necessarily this property.” How he hated Warton in this moment.
“You manipulative bastard.”
No, wait.
