How to Woo a Widow by Manda Collins Page B

soothing tones, such as she would use to gentle a restless horse, Tretham’s louder, more forceful. As he peeked into the room from his position outside the window, Tony saw Portia approaching the window, her eyes were filled with tears though with her back to Tretham he would have no notion of it.
    Tony gave silent thanks that she was as yet unharmed. And when she saw him, her eyes widening in shock. But he was quick to silence her with a finger to his lips. Surprise was perhaps his most valuable weapon and he intended to use it.
    “You will forgive me, won’t you, my dear?” Tretham asked from somewhere behind her. “It was all for you. I even eliminated that blackguard Daventry when you were foolish enough to marry him. Really, my dear, it is as much your fault as mine.”
    Tony felt his gut clench as he saw Tretham approach her, his arms outstretched as if to embrace her. Not while I have breath in my body, he fumed silently.
    Using the other man’s distraction against him, Tony flung open the French door and pointed the gun at Tretham, who stopped abruptly at the sight of him.
    “Step behind me please, Portia,” Tony said, stepping into the room, his voice calm despite the burst of indescribable anger that pulsed through him.
    “You can’t order her around like that,” Tretham said crossly. “She is nothing to you. She is mine. I’ve waited for her for all these years and I will not tolerate any more interference from you.”
    “Perhaps you do not know how these things are conducted, Tretham,” Tony said amiably. “I have a gun. You do not. Therefore the orders will come from me.”
    “I should have shot you when I had the chance, Leighton,” Tretham spat. “I could have, you know. I was the one who found you and Bascombe that day. I wanted to make sure that you were out of commission for good. Imagine my horror when I realized that Bascombe had died but you were so inconveniently alive. I thought about shooting you but there would have been inquiries made when theyfound the bullet hole. Instead I left you there, thinking that the broken bones you’d suffered would be enough. I was a fool.”
    “Well, that’s all very well and good, Tretham,” Tony said, feeling Portia at his back. “But I’m afraid that this tender recounting of days gone by will need to be saved for another time. For if I’m not mistaken, Lady Bascombe has just arrived home. And you do know how she dislikes finding a mess in her sitting room. I’ll just remove you like the rubbish you are, shall I?”
    Right on cue, the doorknob leading into the hall rattled and Lady Bascombe’s querulous voice called out, “What is the meaning of this? Why is this door locked? Portia? You are not entertaining a gentleman, I trust?”
    Tony said to Portia without turning away from where Tretham stood glaring at him, “You’d best go distract her, love. I don’t suppose your mama will find this scene very reassuring.”
    As Portia stepped away to unlock the door, Tretham made his move. If it had been his intent to assault, Tretham would have met with a bruising right to the jaw. But to Tony’s surprise, the other man barreled past him through the French door and out onto the balcony, where he leapt past him out into the air.
    A sickening thud punctuated his landing.
    “Dear God,” Portia cried out. She rushed back to Tony’s side and before he could prevent her she looked down over the balcony’s edge to see Tretham lying at an awkward angle on the paving stones below.
    To her astonishment, however, Tretham was alive.
    “Help me!” the madman cried up to them. “I think my leg is broken.”
    “Good,” Tony said without sympathy. “Come, my dear. Let’s let your mama in.”
    He took her arm and they walked to the locked door. Portia turned the key in the lock and Lady Bascombe, the butler and two footmen burst into the room.
    Tony let Portia explain what had happened to the others, and instructed the butler to call for the watch