Page 53 of A Winter Scandal

“It’s a possibility,” he admitted, then turned quickly away and strode out the door. He walked to the stairs, bellowing, “Rawdon! Get out here!”

Thea flinched at the noise, thinking rather belatedly of the other guests who might be staying there. Still, she could think of no other way to find the man. Knocking on every door in the place would wake everyone as well. She started up the stairs after Gabriel, who continued to shout the other man’s name. A door or two opened down the corridor, heads popping out to stare at them.

“Blast it, Rawdon, answer me!”

Two rooms down, a door slammed open and Lord Rawdon appeared in the doorframe. He was dressed in his shirtsleeves, waistcoat unbuttoned and his neckcloth gone, but he looked fully alert and not as if he had been in bed. Thea noted that he still wore his boots.

“Holy hell, Morecombe!” he growled, stepping out into the corridor. “What are you doing? It’s the middle of the night.”

“Did you think that would stop me? Did you really hope to wait out the snowstorm and leave tomorrow morning before I found out? Well, I know, and I’m here, and by God you will give him back to me or I’ll tear you limb from limb.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re blathering about.”

Gabriel sneered and shoved past Rawdon into the room.

“What the devil?” Rawdon turned to stare after Gabriel as he went into the center of the room and turned all around, looking. A candle burned on a low table by the bed, casting a dim yellowish glow over the place. It was not much light, but the room was small, and even Thea could see, standing out here in the corridor, that no child was in the room.

“What the hell have you done with him?” Gabriel charged back out of the room.

“With whom? Are you foxed?”

“Of course I’m not foxed!” Gabriel roared. “Give him to me!”

“Leave me alone. You’re bloody mad as a hatter.”

“Gentlemen! Gentlemen!” The innkeeper came pelting up the stairs behind them. His bony frame was swathed in a florid dressing gown, and a nightcap was tilted rakishly on his balding head. “Pray what is the matter here?” He smiled at them and genially nodded beyond them at the other guests who had emerged from their rooms. “Whatever the problem, I am sure we can sit down and discuss this peacefully. Perhaps downstairs.”

Both men shot a contemptuous look at the innkeeper before turning back to face each other. Rawdon started back to his room, saying, “If you have nothing intelligible to say, I am going to bed.”

“No, you are not.” Gabriel pulled one of his pistols from his pocket and aimed it at the other man. “You are going to tell me what you have done with Matthew.”

Lord Rawdon crossed his arms in front of him and regarded Gabriel coolly. “No, I am not.”

Gabriel drew back the hammer of the pistol with a click. The innkeeper let out a low moan and sagged against the wall. Thea thought he might faint, but she hadn’t the time to pay attention to him now.

“Gabriel,” she said in a low voice, taking a step closer. “If you kill him, we shall have no way of knowing where Matthew is.”

“You’re right.” Gabriel kept his eyes trained on Rawdon but lowered the pistol, easing the hammer back into place, and stuck it into his pocket. “I shall have to beat it out of him.”

Rawdon straightened, a light sparking in his pale blue eyes. “Come ahead, then.” He brought up his fists, taking a boxing stance.

Gabriel began to peel off his coat. The innkeeper darted in between them, spluttering, “No, my lord, please, my lord.” He looked pleadingly from one man to the other. “Surely this can be discussed civilly. Explained. Settled. There’s no need to resort to fisticuffs. Come downstairs, I’ll bring you a bottle of port …” He trailed off.

The innkeeper could see, Thea thought, just as she could, that both men were implacable. In another moment they would start circling each other like wolves, looking for an opening to jump in and rip one another apart. Thea slipped in between them, turning to look up at Lord Rawdon.

“Please, my lord, please tell me where Matthew is. He will be lonely and afraid. He’s used to being with me. He does not know you, and wherever you have him, he could be cold or hungry.” Tears welled in her eyes.

Rawdon drew back, for the first time looking faintly uneasy. “Madam, I don’t know who you are or why you keep turning up in front of me, and I have no idea who Matthew is. If I knew where he was, believe me, I would tell you so that I could get this madman out of here.”

“Matthew is your son, you bloody bastard!” Gabriel roared, and started to step around Thea, but she shifted to keep between them.

“The baby?” Rawdon stared at them. “You think I have Jocelyn’s child?” He brushed a hand back through his hair, cursing softly under his breath. “All right. I shall talk to you. But I suggest we remove our conversation to a room downstairs, as the innkeeper suggested.” He nodded toward Hornsby, saying, “And I think a bottle of brandy would be in order.”

“Yes, my lord, right away.” The innkeeper bowed with relief and hurried off down the stairs.

“I didn’t come here to sit down over a bottle of brandy with you and chat!” Gabriel told him furiously.

Rawdon regarded Morecombe without expression. “Do you really want to have this conversation about the child here in the hall of the inn, in front of half a dozen people?” He gestured down the corridor, where every doorway held one or two guests, eagerly awaiting the rest of the drama.