Trapped with the Forbidden Duke (Forbidden Lords #5)

Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“ A re you finished with these, Your Grace?”

Lucien raised his eyes to see Mr. Hamilton looking at the empty glasses on the bar in his study. Next to them were two bottles of brandy, drank and emptied over the last three days since Edwina’s departure.

“Yes.”

“Mrs. Galley did not wish to interrupt your… work,” Mr. Hamilton said, grimacing, for the staff knew that Lucien had merely wallowed in his study, drinking Edwina’s absence away. “But she is wondering what is to be done with Her Grace’s chamber. And Lily’s, as well. Her Grace has another lady’s maid in the townhouse, so will you have Lily assume her previous duties?”

Lucien pinched the bridge of his nose, irritated by the barrage of questions. His voice was cold and distant as he spoke. “Do not touch her chambers, and as for her lady’s maid… simply have Mrs. Galley delegate as she sees fit.”

“And if Her Grace returns?—”

“Leave me in peace.”

He could not stand any more mutterings. He wished for silence, butthe silence only emphasized the fact that the one voice, the one person he wished to see, was no longer there.

His butler gathered the glasses and left swiftly.

Lucien knocked back another mouthful of brandy, not even wincing at the burn of it. His gaze was fixed on a spot on the floor as his mind spun.

Truly, he had not thought that Edwina would leave. He thought he would have to command her to, yet she would be stubborn and still be there when he returned from the Tulley ball.

Except he had returned to her empty chambers, her packed trunks, and a message left with Mrs. Galley that she would be at the London townhouse, where he himself had sent her.

His wife was so prideful, and yet he had banked on her stubbornness to remain put.

He snorted into his glass. “It is just as well that she left,” he mumbled to himself. “You could not trust her.”

“Oh, Heavens, look at the state of you.”

“If I look up and see that it is you, Jasper, I shall have a worse day,” he said drily.

Of course, his best friend was there when he looked up.

Jasper was the image of respect, his suit pressed and neat, his curls wrangled into a somewhat tidy style, and his face pinched with worry.

“Lucien, I have not seen you like this since your witch of an aunt died,” he said.“You went through quite a terrible time because of it, unable to process her death. So, what has happened?”

“Nothing,” Lucien muttered. “Leave me be.”

“I actually believe you owe me a brandy, so I shall just help myself.”

Lucien glared up at him, watching with heavy eyes as Jasper served himself and drankdeeply, looking right back at him over the rim of his glass.

“Are you going to tell me what has you looking as though you have been struck by a bout of insanity?”

“No,” Lucien bit out.

“Then I shall guess. After the ball, I heard that a certain Duke and Duchess of Stormhold fought. So, where is Edwina?”

Her name cut through Lucien, and he gritted his teeth. “Gone. She wentto the London townhouse, where she will remain for good. We have decided to live separately.”

“Oh, you bloody, great fool.”

“Get out.” Lucien shook his head, not even giving his friend a chance to ask further. “Just get out.”

“So you may push everyone away? Truly? Heavens, Lucien, pull yourself together. You cannot simply push her away. And do not tell me that you both agreed to such an arrangement. I know you, and I know you likely told her to leave in anger, and that brilliantly independent woman has decided to call your bluff.”

“Jasper,” Lucien warned. “I am not at my most reasonable right now. Do tread carefully.”

“Or what? Will you fight me?”

“No,” he ground out. “But I will have you forcibly removed.”

“All right.” Jasper made a show of getting comfortable, but his smile was tight, angry. “Have me removed, but it is only because you hate that I am right. You do not want to admit your mistake, and you are both too prideful to reach out to one another. You are truly idiotic if you are going to let her remain out there, alone. How could you do that to her, Lucien?”

Lucien slammed his glass on his desk, making him flinch. “Leave. Do not make me ask you again.”

Jasper shook his head. “I have stood by you through many things, but if you cannot see your own mistake, then I fear I will not get through to you at all. You have lost the best thing that has ever happened to you, do you know th?—”

“Of course I know that!” Lucien roared, shoving back his chair and standing up.

He rounded on Jasper but raised no fist. He only stood in the center of his study, seething.

“Why did you do this?” Jasper asked. “What could she have done to make you push her away?”

“She did nothing,” Lucien choked out, sinking to his knees right there in the middle of his study. He was distantly aware that he had knocked Jasper’s glass out of his hand. “You are right, as is Edwina, and I am the fool who cannot make anything right because I am not the husband she deserves. I am protecting her and trusting myself, for I am the only person I can trust.”

“Do you truly believe that?”

“Right now, yes,” Lucien whispered.

Jasper groaned, standing up and striding backward. “Will you let me help you, Lucien?”

Lucien laughed drily. “Why bother? Edwina said quite plainly, as you have, that I do not let anybody come close to me. Do not waste your efforts, Jas. I only hurt others, no? She deserves somebody who will not make her live a lonely life.”

“And yet you are leaving her to do exactly that,” Jasper snapped, frustrated. “I cannot help you like this.”

Lucien drunkenly waved a hand towards the door. “Then there is your solution.”

“Will you truly do nothing about this?”

Lucien staggered to his feet, swiping up the glass, and reached for his own, refilling it. Glaring at his friend, he drank and let himself fall into that blissful numbness.

Jasper shook his head, muttering under his breath before he left. Of course, he did, for Lucien was not an easy man to help or care for.

Edwina had left without putting up a fight. Jasper had tried, but Lucien was irredeemable.

He sank back into his chair, thinking of his wife’s broken-hearted, angry look as he left her alone at the ball.

“Have a safe journey…”

God, he was a fool. As prideful and stubborn as his wife. But he could not trust her care for him—he could not trust anybody.

His eyes found the bottle of bath oil he had snatched from her bathing chamber. Jasmine and rose. He unstopped the bottle and inhaled deeply. The scent was intoxicating, and he made himself ill with how much he ached for her.

Lucien drank again.

A week had passed since Edwina had watched Lucien stride away from her at the Tulley ball. In response to his spiraling anger, to his walls flying up to a point where she could not even keep fighting for him—for them —she had packed her belongings and returned to Stormhold House the same night.

Already, she had met with Diana. She had sobbed into her friend’s arms, spilling everything about the argument, only to be met with Diana’s insistence that all would be all right. That Lucien would come to his senses.

But a week had passed, and Edwina’s eyes were red-rimmed from all her crying. The circles beneath her eyes were dark from fitful sleep, from tossing and turning, her body knowing she had sometimes fallen asleep next to Lucien after they had made love.

Now, she despised the thought of missing him, yet she could not stop herself.

“He does not deserve my missing him,” she snapped to herself, forgetting for a moment that she was in her carriage.

Her heart pounded, painful and demanding, as if it called for her husband even in the fits of her anger and pain. She could not stand being in the townhouse, for it reminded her too greatly of Lucien. His touch was everywhere, and she only missed him harder.

“Your Grace?” her lady’s maid at Stormhold House asked. “Is everything all right? We have arrived at the market.”

“Everything is fine,” Edwina said curtly as the carriage door opened and she stepped out.

Over the past week, she had attempted to harden her heart, to focus only on Lucien’s sharp, callous words, to not miss him like a hole in her chest.

Now, back in London without him, she searched the crowd for him, even as she hoped she would not stumble upon him. He would not be there, either way.

“Can I recommend anything, Your Grace?” her maid asked.

“I am not sure what I am looking for,” Edwina answered. “Perhaps there is some special bread available, or jewelry.”

She was thinking of something for her aunt.

Yes, think of others. Take your mind off Lucien.

“Maybe…” she trailed off, moving further into the busy market, so focused on keeping her thoughts off Lucien that she did not truly notice how busy the market was and did not hear the call of her maid.

Edwina felt half out of her mind, there and yet not there, standing in a sea of people who all peered at her as they passed.

Until one man’s face stood out, and her heart lurched.

“Your Grace,” Lord Stockton greeted, his tone clipped. “How delightful to meet you again. I hear that your husband has left you alone.”

He laughed cruelly, and Edwina’s chest tightened.

Do not cry, do not cry, do not cry.

The mantra did little to steel her resolve, but she lifted her chin, regardless.

“All alone you are,” he drawled. “Left without a brother or a husband to protect you. Whatever will you do? Such a scandal! Such gossip.”

Edwina tried to move past him, turning her fear into action. But Lord Stockton grabbed hold of her, pulling her to his side. She struggled as he dragged her into an alley.

The Earl’s mouth was at her ear, his breath hot and sour. She flinched.

“Do you think you and the Duke can toy with me? You have both made a big mistake, and I intend to make you pay for it.”

Edwina’s eyes dropped to where his fingers dug into her skin. “Let go of me, Lord Stockton, or I shall scream.”

The Earl’s old eyes widened with glee. “Be clever now, Your Grace. You do not wish to draw attention to yourself now, do you? After all, if you scream, I shall happily tell any listening ear about Nicholas’s little trip with your aunt. What a very… lively woman. There are plenty of gossipmongers in London, Edwina, so do play your hand carefully. I have done my digging and found the place your husband set Nicholas up in. I already know Nicholas’s… ailments are complicated and difficult, and the process is incredibly arduous, is it not? So many complications can happen.”

Realization dawned on Edwina a beat too late. “You would not dare.”

“No, I would not.” He laughed darkly. “But you have seen my men, and after they left Montgomery Manor the night we made our deal, they have been itching for a fight. I will happily provide them with one.”

He gave her a sneering, leering look that made her feel exposed.

He stepped back, releasing her with a smirk. “Have a lovely day at the market, Your Grace. I do hope that townhouse is not too empty without your husband in it.”

As soon as he was gone, Edwina whirled out of the alley, searching the crowded street for her maid, finding her pale-faced and harried.

“Your Grace!” she called out, and Edwina rushed over to her. “Wherever did you?—”

“We must hurry,” Edwina panted. “We-We must depart immediately. Let us depart for the townhouse.”

Worry made her chest tighten, and she was already moving back to the carriage, anything from the market forgotten.

The carriage ride was spent with her maid trying to figure out what had happened, but Edwina could only stew in her worry and panic.

What had Lord Stockton done to her brother?

“I need to make haste to Red Acre Lodge,” Edwina said as she bolted out of the carriage. “I do not have a moment to lose.”

“Let’s take the carriage, Your Grace. It is far more appropriate.”

“There is no time.” Edwina was shaking her head, already rushing to the stables.

Within minutes, she had a horse saddled and was galloping at a breakneck speed, her only thought being Nicholas.

“A message has arrived for you, Your Grace.”

The morning of the eighth day after Edwina’s departure, Lucien glared up from the breakfast table, holding out a hand. It would be another letter from another lord, asking when their meeting would be rescheduled.

Until he saw a feminine, curling hand, and his heart lurched as he realized that it was not Edwina’s. Nonetheless, he opened the note, reading it fast.

Your Grace,

I am writing to express my concern. Her Grace took off to Red Acre Lodge in haste. She seemed very panicked, claiming that Lord Montgomery was in danger, but she did not reveal anything further. Please, Your Grace, you must follow her. I worry for my mistress.

Lucien was already on his feet as soon as he read that Edwina had left the townhouse alone to go to Red Acre Lodge.

Why ?

He was already running through the hallway to the stables outside. With a sharp command, he had a horse saddled and swung himself up onto it.

Without a second thought, he took off at full speed towards Red Acre Lodge. He did not trust whatever was going on, and he could not see her in danger.

Edwina, do not be foolish , he prayed desperately as he rode hard for his wife.

“Aunt Isabel, where is Nicholas?”

Isabel blinked at the sight of Edwina in the parlor. “You—I am—Edwina? Whatever are you doing here?”

“Aunt Isabel, please .”

Edwina had ridden hard all morning, finding herself finally at the estate within a matter of hours. Sore, panicked, and exhausted, she had almost collapsed when she walked into the parlor.

“Where is he? I-I cannot explain. I just need to find him.”

“He has gone on one of his daily walks, dear,” Isabel replied, still frowning. “But why the sudden appearance? Whatever is wrong? You did not mention your visit—and where is your husband?”

“Where does he take his walks?” Edwina asked, agitated.

“The woodlands. But he is fine, Edwina. You must let him get some fresh?—”

Edwina was already running, back out of the door, and crossing the acres of land beyond. She did not stop running until she was deep in the forest, the ground muddy from recent rainfall.

“Nicholas!” she called out, shuddering at the thought of something happening to her brother. She ran in every direction, listening for any sound. “Nick!”

But all she could hear was birdsong and the rustle of the light wind in the trees—and water.

There was a stream nearby.

Edwina tore off in that direction, every inch of her screaming that it was the right place to go to. Nights and nights spent worrying about Nicholas had her in tune with him. Her gut just told her that something was not right. She had known it every night he came home high on opiates, and she knew it now.

Finally, she arrived at the stream. Her eyes swept over the empty space, until?—

“Nick!” she cried out, rushing to the prone body.

Hot tears began to stream down her face as her shaking hands reached for him. She clamped one hand over her mouth as she took in the blood pooled beneath him.

“ Nick ,” she sobbed, shaking her brother.

But his body was limp, and he did not stir.