Chapter 32
Returning to his country estate had been the right move for Ronan. He couldn’t imagine being in London. Or worst, his country seat. No, he didn’t want anything but these very rooms he had chosen and styled for himself.
The heavy dark curtains styled in blue blocked much of the sunlight when he wrapped the dressing gown around his shoulders. It tied at the waist, allowing him enough decency to leave.
Not that he particularly wanted to. But his valet was acting persnickety, suggesting they give the room time to air out. Ronan didn’t have the energy to argue. He’d bathed and shaved and now donned the dressing gown to force himself out of the chamber.
Then he sat himself in his library to stare at the small fire, not caring if it grew or died. There was more light here but not in this corner. He liked how dark it was, feeling it aptly fit his mood. A tea tray was delivered at some point, but he left alone.
I could stay here forever. Perhaps I will. What else is there to do? I failed at my plan, I failed at being a husband as well as a brother. If I stay here, I can’t possibly fail at anything else. Or if I do, it shan’t be my fault.
“Ronan?”
He jerked, turning to find Julian strolling into the room. The other duke was striding across the room before Ronan could think. Standing, and grabbing the nearest book on hand, Ronan watched his friend push the curtains open wider. He flinched and frowned.
“What are you doing here?” Ronan demanded.
“Lovely to see you as well,” his old friend noted wryly. “You are looking particularly… unfortunate.”
With a huff, he waved the book about in haste. “I was reading. I have things to do, Julian.”
“I beg your pardon, old chap. I didn’t know you were such a fan of gothic romances,” his friend said mildly as he came forward to inspect the book. Ronan’s grip tightened on it. The book must have been left out by Isla at some point, never to be returned.
It was like she was determined to haunt him. He tossed it at once.
Ronan sat back down. “Very well. What is it?”
“Must I always come to you on business? Or some other matter?” Julian sat down in the nearby chair before promptly rising to feed the dying fire.
The golden-haired gentleman was always energetic and light on his feet.
“Haven’t heard from you for a short while, and learned you suddenly left London, so I thought I might come by. Genevieve sends her greetings.”
He's pushing it in my face, is he, that he can keep a wife?
Ronan’s eye twitched. He was hardly sleeping, leaving him more exhausted and rather listless. He didn’t even have the energy to care. Sinking deeper into his chair, he mumbled something about sending greetings back to the duchess.
As for Julian, he turned to give him a sardonic look. “Very well, what is wrong with you now? This is new. I’ve never seen you sulk like this before.”
“I’m not sulking!”
“How old are you again? Twelve? Eight?”
All Ronan could think to do was throw a pillow at him. But his friend easily caught it, setting it behind him for cushioning.
“I would like to help if I can, old chap,” Julian offered at a pause. He looked over thoughtfully, seeing Ronan. Or could he? Could anyone? It didn’t seem to do Ronan any good. Maybe no one really did see him. All the same, he didn’t like anyone staring at him. “What can I do to help?”
“Nothing.” Ronan turned his head away. He spoke coldly as he added, “It would be best if you make appointments for your arrivals in the future so I can be better prepared.”
He sensed the surprise in his friend’s tone when he spoke next, and had to brace himself against the guilt. “What the devil? Ronan, really. You’ve had your mourning period. You married. I should think you are right as rain. I was concerned something serious had happened. But here you are, pouting.”
“I’m not pouting. Or sulking. You can take your leave,” Ronan added as he rose with a sudden plan.
I don’t know why I didn’t think of it earlier.
Moving to the corner bookcase against the wall, he pulled out a book that opened a hidden panel that carried some of the only brandy in the house. He took out the goblet and a glass.
“Ronan! Truly?”
After filling the glass two fingers full, Ronan turned.
This time he was ready to look Julian in the eye as he drank.
It was a sweet burn tingling down his throat.
How much he had missed this. He almost felt like he had never stopped drinking as he enjoyed the sensation of warmth trickling down his body.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Meanwhile Julian watched everything, slowly pressing his lips tightly together.
“Very well.” There was no farewell as the man swept out of the room.
Now left alone with the brandy, Ronan set down the glass. Then he took the goblet and carried it over to the sofa. He had stopped drinking when his sister passed. But that was a long time ago, and matters changed. He deserved a drink or two. Maybe even three.
His gaze settled on the burning embers within the fireplace as he took another sip. Time slowed down. Everything felt inconsequential for a spell. He sighed and leaned back, thinking to rest his eyes.
Then a door slammed.
“Ronan!”
Rubbing his eyes, he groaned. The drink was weighing him down. His thoughts were feeling slower. But when he opened his eyes, he still saw Julian striding toward him. “I thought you left.”
“Why would I do such a thing? I came all this way to see you, you fool, and I’m getting to the bottom of this.”
“This?”
“Yes, you. Your problem. And I think I found out what it is,” Julian added with a proud smile as he ushered in a chamber maid. “This is Elsie.”
Ronan looked to the chambermaid, both of them clearly uncomfortable. He vaguely recognized her. She was one of the few servants they’d hired in London and then brought back here. “Hello, Elsie.”
She managed a quick curtsey. “Your Grace.”
“Now that we all know each other, Elsie, be a dear and tell His Grace what you have learned. Because it took me talking to two household servants to discover that your wife took a hasty leave of you with, apparently, no intention to return.” Ronan dropped his head in his hands with a groan. “Yes, I see now. Elsie?”
“Oh. I… Well, my cousin works for Lady Vasiling. The lady and her husband, the Marquess of Lewton, hosted their annual ball a few days prior.”
Julian cleared his throat. “A ball you attended, I believe, with your duchess.”
“Don’t call her that.” It hurt too much to think about.
“Very well. Elsie, whatever did you learn amongst the gossip your cousin learned at the ball?”
“That someone spoke with Her Grace. Our duchess.”
Julian made a strangled sound. “Yes, yes, and who was that?”
“Lord Dunn,” she said in a squeak.
He jerked his head up. The name was familiar. A moment was needed amongst his cloudy thoughts, trying to pull it together. Then it came to him: Isla had told him about Dunn before; that she might have married him if not for Ronan.
A bitterness settled on his tongue, making it hard to swallow. “Ah. So that is who she is leaving me for.”
“Please wait outside in case we need you again,” Julian told the maid before coming around to sit beside Ronan. Though he tried to offer him a hand, Ronan brushed him off. “Don’t you see?”
“See what? I know she left me. You don’t need to cut me any deeper,” Ronan snapped.
Julian threw his hands up in the air. “You obstinate idiot! There is not a chance in the world your duchess would leave you. I saw the way you two looked at each other during the ball. Remember? I was there. And I was almost embarrassed at how sincerely you two were flirting with each other. Me! So believe me when I say your Isla wouldn’t be leaving you for someone else. ”
Raising his head, Ronan glared. “Do you see her here?”
“No, but I cannot believe what I am hearing. She was glowing around you! Do you really believe that she left you because that is what she wanted?”
“She suggested a divorce.” The words came off his tongue awkwardly. “I couldn’t…”
This time Julian laid both hands on his shoulders to give him a quick shake. It made the room spin. Ronan resisted the urge to throw up. The drink was a beauty to go down but he didn’t want it coming back the other way. He held tightly back onto Julian, breathing deeply.
“Think, Ronan!” His friend was saying. “What did you even ask her? Did she say where she was going?”
“No, I…”
“Did she say why she was leaving you?”
That made his stomach twist. “That what we had didn’t mean anything and that we were fooling ourselves. Something like that.”
Julian made a face. “She fooled everyone, then. Do you think she’s that good of an actress?”
“No…” Ronan needed to think. Julian’s arrival was ill-timed but necessary. He needed that shake.
Shoving his friend back, he rose up to start pacing.
His mind still felt a little muddled, but he worked quickly.
Carefully. Backtracking. Yes, everything had been going well for them.
They’d had a few pleasant weeks of friendly bickering and playful teasing that had led to serious flirtations.
It wasn’t something that had happened lightly.
It's not adding up.
“This doesn’t make any sense,” Ronan realized at last.
Julian beamed. “Now you understand! So, what shall we do?”
“Find out the truth.” He started toward the door, ready to ride right back into London.
Only a step out into the hall, Julian called, “Would you like to wear a shirt perhaps?”
Ronan grunted and steered himself back in the other direction. Clothes were needed whether he cared or not. “Ready the horses. I’ll be in the stables shortly,” he added over his shoulder.
It wasn’t long before the two gentlemen had taken horses down the road to London.
Julian rode a fresh one from the stables.
The air helped Ronan sober up, though they’d brought some meat pies along just in case his stomach needed help settling later.
Julian let Ronan lead the way until they made it to London late that evening, going straight to the door of Isla’s family’s home.
He wasn’t surprised when Mrs. MacLaren was the one to open the door.
“Oh! What a… surprise!” The older lady looked at Ronan in shock and then glimpsed Julian. “Oh dear. How… how delighted I am to see you.”
“Really?” Julian asked curiously.
Shoving him back with an elbow,” Ronan focused on the woman. “Isla. I should like to see her if I might.”
Her hand went over her heart. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace, but I’m afraid she’s not at home.
I hardly know what to make of all this. It’s such a predicament.
She spoke about returning to Scotland before the end of this week, you know.
I cannot understand it. Surely the two of you can…
She’ll be home eventually if you would like to stay? ”
Returning to Scotland? What the devil would she do there? Without me?
Ronan had half a mind to storm past the woman an investigate the house just to be certain that Isla wasn’t hiding anywhere. He wouldn’t put it past her.
But there was Julian taking his arm. “Very good, my lady, thank you for your time. We’ll return on the morrow. Ronan?”
The two of them grudgingly returned to their horses. All the while, Ronan was shaking his head. “How did I not see it? She’s not going to Scotland. She doesn’t have anything there for her any longer. Did Dunn scare her into leaving? This makes no sense,” he griped in frustration.
“I agree, and I’ll do whatever I can to help you,” Julian promised. “Let’s go to the clubs to see what anyone else might know.”