Chapter 36
The horse tore through the night like a bullet. Percival was bent low over the beast’s neck, his jaw clenched, his knuckles white around the reins.
Aurelia.
Her name fueled the fire in his eyes. She was hurt, and that realization felt like a dagger ripping his heart open.
He couldn’t bear the thought of her fragile body crumpled in pain. He had seen wounds before. He had seen someone hurt before…
Was history repeating itself?
His fists tightened around the reins.
They dared to touch her.
He didn’t even know the culprits’ faces or their names, but that did not matter. He would find them. He would make them beg for death. He would crush even the smallest bones in their bodies until they were nothing but memory.
“You will not take her from me,” he hissed to the wind.
His heart clenched so hard that he almost lost his breath.
“No,” he growled into the dark night. “No. She is alive. She must be alive.”
Memories of the bloodied corpse of Lottie’s mother flashed in his mind’s eye, her eyes devoid of life as her mouth stayed open in a silent scream. The gruesome reminder shocked him, nearly unbalancing him from his saddle but he held the reins tighter, forcing back the thoughts.
Banfield House finally appeared in the distance. Usually, it was a place of chatter and mirth. Even at night, the estate buzzed with maids, carriages, and nobility passing through.
But tonight, silence reigned. A silence so suffocating and unnatural. It made his gut twist.
Indeed, something dreadful had happened.
He pulled the horse to an abrupt stop in the courtyard. Then, he dismounted in one furious motion. His boots struck hard against the cobblestones as he marched toward the house.
When the front doors opened, he could immediately sense the storm he was about to enter.
Lord and Lady Scovell appeared, their features schooled in polite welcome. But behind their tired smiles, Percival could sense the strain, fear, and guilt they tried to hide.
“Your Grace,” Lord Scovell greeted, bowing stiffly. “We—”
But Percival didn’t have patience for pleasantries tonight. The only person he was interested in seeing was his wife.
“Where is she?” His voice cut through the air, his waning restraint evident.
Lady Scovell stepped forward. Though her hands were clasped together, she was trying hard to keep her composure.
“Perhaps… perhaps you would like to rest first. Tea, to steady—”
Tea. Goddamn tea.
Percival squeezed his eyes shut, and that seemed to silence the countess. She swallowed and waited for him to look at her.
“No tea.” The words cracked out like a whip. “If I haven’t already made it obvious, I am here to see my wife.” His fierce gaze searched their faces. “So take me to her.”
For a moment, they hesitated, their lips thinning. But the storm in his eyes left no room for argument.
Lady Scovell drew a breath. “She is resting. In her chambers.”
“Then take me there.”
Percival did not ask again. His fists clenched at his sides, causing the leather of his gloves to squeak in protest. His heart was hammering against his ribs, and every second of delay made it worse.
Lord and Lady Scovell exchanged glances, knowing they could not deny him. He was Aurelia’s husband, after all.
But above all, they knew their daughter wanted nothing more than to see him.
Without another word, Lord Scovell turned and began to lead the way. Lady Scovell fell into step beside him.
Percival strode behind them, his steps heavy, impatience radiating off him in waves. The halls of Banfield House were vast, and the walls were lined with portraits and finery.
But he barely saw them. All he saw in his mind was Aurelia.
The walk seemed to last for an eternity before, at last, they reached her chamber door. Lady Scovell pushed it open, and Percival was immediately hit with a familiar scent. That familiar sweet, floral scent. The very one that belonged to his wife.
He hadn’t even seen her yet, but already he was aching with longing. His soul was screaming for her.
He stepped into the room, which had her fingerprints all over it. Pale pink wallpaper with floral patterns graced the walls with a large white rug resembling her cat at the foot of the bed.
The bed…
There she was.
Aurelia was lying on silken sheets, her chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. She was turned slightly onto her side, strands of hair falling across her cheek. Still, he could see her face, pale but peaceful.
She looked like a flower pressed between pages, fragile and untouched. The kind that was supposed to last for eternity.
Percival couldn’t resist. The urge was too strong to ignore, like an ache so deep he thought it might kill him.
He crossed the room with swift strides. He didn’t even think twice about it. No hesitation. No doubt.
Then, he dropped to his knees beside her, reaching for her before reason could catch up. He took her hands gently, as if afraid she would vanish.
Warm. She was warm.
A wave of relief crashed over him, soul-deep. His breath hitched, before he bowed his head and pressed his lips to her skin, unable to help himself.
He trailed desperate kisses across her knuckles, her wrist, the tender curve of her palm. Each one was a prayer, a promise, gratitude.
Lord Scovell cleared his throat softly, but Percival did not look away from Aurelia. His lips lingered on her knuckles, not wanting to release her, not wanting to let her go again.
“She was fortunate,” her father began, his voice low. “Fortunate to have escaped… worse.”
“Fortunate?” Percival’s head snapped up, his blue eyes blazing with barely restrained fury. “She is bleeding.”
Lady Scovell shifted on her feet. Though her back remained straight, Percival could see the crack in her composure.
“She is resting,” she said curtly. “The physician assures us she will recover.”
But her reassurance fell flat. It barely touched him. It bounced off the grief in his chest before falling to the floor.
His hand tightened around Aurelia’s, his thumb brushing over her fingers with a silent prayer.
“What happened to her?” His voice was deadly quiet now, a storm contained within a whisper. “I want the truth. All of it.”
Lord Scovell hesitated. His eyes flickered to his wife. But then the truth came out anyway, the weight of it too heavy to hide.
“She escorted her younger sister to a suitor, but then an incident happened,” he revealed. “While trying to escape, the cad tried to attack them. But… But Aurelia tried to defend herself. She tried to protect Nora. It’s so unfortunate. She fought them with her own hands. If not for her—”
“Cornelius,” Lady Scovell cut in sharply, silencing him. Her lips thinned, and her eyes narrowed with reprimand.
The silence that followed was heavy as they exchanged a look.
Percival eyed them, and he could almost sense what they were communicating to each other. That he wasn’t supposed to know that. That he wasn’t supposed to know his wife had embarrassed him by throwing fists. That she hadn’t acted like a duchess.
“She fought them,” he spoke, not wanting that part of the truth to be buried, “and you dare call that misfortune?”
Lady Scovell lifted her chin. “You know as well as I do that such… unladylike behavior is unbecoming of a duchess. It was an unfortunate display, one best forgotten.”
“Unbecoming?” For once, Percival couldn’t hide his confusion. Couldn’t deny the fact that his in-laws could be so suffocating. “She protected her sister when no one else could. She risked everything, and you have the gall to speak of decorum?”
Lady Scovell pressed her lips into a tight, bloodless line, saying nothing.
But when Percival returned his gaze to his wife, his voice cracked with grief. “No… If anyone has failed her, it’s me.”
His thumb brushed across her hand again, trembling, reverent.
“I pushed her away,” he whispered, half to himself. “I made her believe that she was unwanted. And now… now she lies here because I was too much of a coward to give her what she deserved.”
The fury that had carried him here, the steely armor of his pride, all fell away at that moment. What remained was nothing but raw, aching regret.
Lord and Lady Scovell simply watched him. They said nothing.
There was nothing to say.
As silence pressed down heavily on them, he felt a faint movement. Aurelia’s fingers twitched beneath his.
Percival froze. His heart slammed once, twice, painfully against his ribs. “Aurelia…”
His head turned toward her, his blue eyes wide with desperation.
Her lashes fluttered faintly. Her lips parted, and a tremulous breath slipped free.
Relief and dread collided inside him all at once.
She was waking up.
Her lashes fluttered again, like delicate wings breaking free from slumber. Then, her brown eyes opened. Unfocused at first, but real and alive.
The faintest sigh escaped her lips. It was such a small and fragile sound, yet it made everyone halt.
Percival remained on his knees, still watching her with disbelief. Lord Scovell straightened quickly, and Lady Scovell pressed her fingers to her mouth as though she was witnessing a miracle.
As for Percival, relief washed over him, so fierce that it nearly stole his breath.
My wife… my duchess… She is awake.
Without a second thought, without a care for appearances, he pressed more kisses to her delicate hand. Like a man who had been drowning and just broke the surface.