Sebastian encountered Cam in the hallway outside the reading room. Where is he? he demanded without preamble. Stopping before him with an expressionless face, Cam said shortly, He’s gone. Why didn’t you follow him? White-hot fury blazed in Sebastian’s eyes. This news, added to the frustration of his vow of celibacy, was the last straw. Cam, who had been exposed to years of Ivo Jenner’s volcanic temper, remained unruffled. It was unnecessary in my judgment, he said. He won’t return. I don’t pay you to act on your own damned judgment. I pay you to act on mine! You should have dragged him here by the throat and then let me decide what was to be done with the bastard. Cam remained silent, sliding a quick, subtle glance at Evie, who was inwardly relieved by the turn of events. They were both aware that had Cam brought Bullard back to the club, there was a distinct possibility that Sebastian might actually have killed him— and the last thing Evie wanted was a murder charge on her husband’s head. I want him found, Sebastian said vehemently, pacing back and forth across the reading room. I want at least two men hired to look for him day and night until he is brought to me. I swear he’ll serve as an example to anyone who even thinks of lifting a finger against my wife. He raised his arm and pointed to the doorway. Bring me a list of names within the hour. The best detectives available— private ones. I don’t want some idiot from the New Police, who’ll foul this up as they do everything else. Go. Though Cam undoubtedly had a few opinions to offer on the matter, he kept them to himself. Yes, my lord. He left the room at once, while Sebastian glared after him. Seeking to calm his seething temper, Evie ventured, There is no need to take your anger out on Cam. He— Don’t even try to excuse him, Sebastian said darkly. You and I both know that he could have caught that damned gutter rat had he wanted to. And I’ll be damned if I’ll tolerate your calling him by his first name— he is not your brother, nor is he a friend. He’s an employee and you’ll refer to him as ‘Mr. Rohan’ from now on. He is my friend, Evie replied in outrage. He has been for years! Married women don’t have friendships with young unmarried men. Y-you dare to insult my honor with the implication that… that… Evie could hardly speak for the multitude of protests that jammed inside her. I’ve done nothing to merit such a lack of tr-tr-trust! I trust you. It’s everyone else that I hold in suspicion.
Lisa Kleypas