Chapter 21
Adam stared at his wife in bewilderment. Pushed down the stairs? By Nicholas? Surely that couldn’t be what she meant. But the way she was staring back at him, so serious through an eye so bruised that it looked almost black, told him she meant every word.
Then again, the physician had warned him that with head injuries could come some confusion. No doubt she was imagining things because she couldn’t remember what happened.
“Emmeline,” he said gently, holding onto her hand as she attempted to pull away. “You’re tired. And you hit your head. I think?—”
“Are you going to tell me that I don’t know what I’m saying, Adam?” She tugged her hand back, and he didn’t dare keep it for fear that she would hurt herself again. “Are you going to tell me I imagined the whole thing?”
“Nicholas wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, love.”
Frustration rose in his chest, but he did his best to keep his tone gentle. No matter the truth, this was what she believed. He could see it in her pinched lips and the hurt expression on her face.
She had been hurt so many times since she had first come here. And he hated that she was still hurting now.
“You don’t believe me,” she whispered.
“Why would he push you? He likes you, Emmeline.”
She pushed herself up in the bed, sitting up fully, and winced at the light. Immediately, he rose to close the curtains. “He can like me all he wants, but, Adam, he was in the house yesterday.”
“You say that, but no one recalls seeing him. Do you not think a servant would have seen him here if that was the case?”
“He was sneaking around the east wing, trying not to be seen. He did not alert any of the servants to his presence, and he knew you were not here. In fact, he was hoping not to encounter me, I know it.”
“So.” He came to stand beside her. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I discovered him doing something that he wanted to keep hidden, and he attempted to silence me.” As though sensing that what she had said was outlandish to the point of stupidity, she frowned and muttered, “But what was he attempting to achieve?”
“Think,” Adam said, perching on the bed and taking her hand in his again. “If he had been here, do you not think he would have called the physician himself?”
She shook her head obstinately, her face creased into a frown. “I know what I saw, Adam. Nicholas was here. And you may not believe me, may not believe that he was here, or that he pushed me down the stairs, but I was there, and you were not.”
“I’ll ask the servants,” he said heavily.
If this was true… but he couldn’t believe it. Wouldn’t. Nicholas was his oldest friend, a connection to his brother that he could not bear to relinquish.
Besides, he knew the man. That was the consequence of being friends for so long, and he knew Nicholas would never intentionally try to injure someone, especially to the extent of pushing them down the stairs. That was a step altogether too far.
“You won’t believe me.” Tears streaked down Emmeline’s face, and she turned her head away, her face crumpling. “I see now that you won’t. Oh, I wish I had never come here.”
“I’ll call for the physician,” Adam said, making for the door. “Rest, Emmeline. I’ll be back for you soon.”
“But you won’t believe me,” she whispered as he left the room.
After conferring with the physician, who suggested that she might indeed be confused and prescribed a tonic for her, Adam strode down the corridor to where he hoped he would find the butler.
Instead, he found the door to the servants’ quarters ajar, and he heard voices. He paused at the mention of his wife.
“I heard she’s accusing the Viscount Sarron of pushing her down the stairs,” a maid whispered and giggled. “As though such a handsome man could do something so heinous.”
“I hardly blame her,” another voice said heavily. “It’s hardly as though she’s happy here.”
“Well, no, to be sure. I suppose when her original plans fell through, she was obliged to go to greater levels. Accusing the Duke’s best friend of attempted murder, though…” The maid sucked her teeth. “I can only imagine how desperate she is to escape.”
“The Duke isn’t so bad,” a small voice said.
“Not so bad, but not so good, either,” the maid said. “Could you imagine being married to him? He would do nothing but scowl. And she’s so pretty and kind. Never has a bad word for any of us.”
“Perhaps she’s trying to hurt herself,” the second voice said. “And when she didn’t hurt herself badly enough, she decided to accuse Lord Sarron.”
“Do you think the Duke will send her back, then?”
“I hope so, if at least for her sake and not our own.”
“Excuse me, what’s this?” Mrs. Pentwhistle snapped, and there was the sound of shuffling. “Is your job to stand in a stairwell and gossip? Move along before I have something more to say about the matter.”
Adam forced his feet into motion, even as his mind spun, trying to find a positive way to frame their comments.
That was, of course, not possible. Emmeline had been miserable with him—he had known that from the very beginning. But at the very beginning, denying her had not felt as though he was ripping his own heart out. She had been right to call him cold—he had been. Uncaring of her and her position, knowing that she was unhappy but unprepared to do anything about it.
Now she had pushed things dangerously far in her bid to be free of him.
Very well, he would grant her wish. If all she had wanted was to go back to her family, then he was certain he would not prevent her.
The castle would be a cold, dark place without her, and she would take the colors with her, but he was no longer prepared to be selfish, especially if it meant she would go to such lengths.
“Pack my bags for London,” he said to his valet once he returned to his bedchamber. “William spent most of his time there, and I have slacked on my efforts to look for him.”
The valet frowned. “Your Grace?”
“I am going to London,” Adam said crisply, ignoring the lurch in his chest and the ache in his gut. “Was that not evident enough? For the foreseeable future, I will be spending my time at the townhouse.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the valet said. “And Her Grace?”
“Tell her maid to pack her things. As soon as she’s recovered, she will be spending some time with her family.”
There was no need to tell anyone the extent of his plans. If she did not want to be with him, then he would not make her. Wife or no wife. If people dared talk, he would quiet them soon enough. After all, his reputation was fearsome and brutal enough. No one would dare say a word.
The valet’s face was impassive. “As you say, Your Grace.”
“I will leave immediately,” Adam said, thinking ahead.
If he saw Emmeline even one more time, his resolve would falter. Not having her near him would be too painful. But this was what she wanted.
What she wanted. He would learn to live with it.
“Is there anything else, Your Grace?”
Adam took the bottle of brandy he kept on his desk for such occasions. It was the middle of the day, but that hardly mattered. He downed the drink in one gulp.
“No,” he said, wishing he could hurl the glass against the wall. But that would alert the servants that there was something wrong, and the only way he could carry out his plan was by fooling everyone around him into thinking he was fine.
Perhaps then he would come to believe it.
The valet inclined his head. “Very good, Your Grace.”
* * *
Emmeline woke up once again to aches and pains, although this time they seemed to be diminished. Her sleep had been deep and soundless, and coming out of it took some doing; she spent several minutes lying prone and blinking at the ceiling.
When she turned her head, however, her husband was not by her side. She was alone in the room. Groggily, she registered that it was night, and she must have slept away the rest of the day. How bizarre.
Then again, the physician had come in with smiles and reassuring words and given her something to drink that had tasted bitter and sent her into almost immediate slumber.
Ignoring the ache in her head, she rubbed her eyes and slid out of bed, finding a wrap to put over her shoulders and lighting a candle with shaking fingers. Before she could leave the room, however, a maid came in and nearly shrieked at the sight of her.
“Good heavens,” Emmeline said, putting the candle on the dressing table. “What is the matter?”
“I thought you would still be asleep, Your Grace,” the maid explained, putting the jug down and taking Emmeline’s arm. “Now come, back to bed with you. I’m under strict instructions not to let you get up until you’re fully healed.”
“I was just about to go next door,” Emmeline said, yielding to the maid’s demands and climbing back into bed. “To see the Duke.”
The maid hesitated, chewing on her lip for a second, and there was just enough uncertainty in her gaze that made Emmeline’s heart drop.
“What?” she asked quietly. “What is it?”
“The Duke is in London, Your Grace. He has left instructions for you to return to your parents’ house as soon as you’re feeling better.”
It felt as though her heart dropped out of her chest and landed on the floor. He had left? He had seen her injured, seen her reaching out for him in relief, and had decided to send her away from their home?
He’d left without saying goodbye.
“I’m sorry, Your Grace,” the maid was saying as she tucked Emmeline back in. “I thought for certain you must have known.”
“No. No, I did not know. He didn’t tell me…”
He hadn’t told her that he was taking the coward’s way out.
Indignation boiled in her chest. So that was his game. Instead of confronting the truth that she had told him, he had denied it, and now, no doubt offended that she had dared accuse his friend, he was shipping her off to her parents.
Without so much as a word.
“How dare he?” Emmeline snapped, and the maid jumped. “If I had known it was a choice between Nicholas and me, and he would choose Nicholas, I would have acted differently.”
She refused to acknowledge the hurt that came with it.
Adam had chosen Nicholas. Without informing her of his decision, he was choosing his friend and choosing to disregard everything she’d said.
“I have no desire to wait,” Emmeline said, throwing back the covers. “Take me to my parents’ house now.”
“Your Grace?—”
“The Duke is not here, and no doubt he gave you orders, but I am here, and I am still the Duchess, no matter how he chooses to treat me.” Her feet sank into the soft carpet. “Pack my things. I will leave tonight.”
The maid’s face twisted, and she clasped her hands in front of her. “At least wait until the morning, Your Grace. It’s dark out.”
Emmeline paused, glancing at the curtains, which indeed let no light in. Yes, she had awoken in the dark. Somehow, in the depths of her anger, she had forgotten that one fact.
“Very well,” she said and exhaled sharply. “I shall wait until tomorrow, but I would like to leave this place tomorrow morning.” If he wanted her gone, she would not make him wait. “No delays. Is that understood?”
The maid bobbed a curtsy. “Yes, Your Grace.”
* * *
Adam looked at the letter he had received from Emmeline. His name was written in precise letters on the back, and when he unfolded it, he saw only a few words.
Your Grace,
You are free to return home. I have vacated the premises. I will not look for you in town.
Emmeline.
His heart gave a little lurch at seeing her write ‘Your Grace’ instead of his name, but no doubt he deserved that. She was likely angry at the way he had left, and the way he had sent her off, but that was to be expected. He deserved it.
It had only been a full day since he’d last seen her, but already a part of him ached, as though he had lost a limb and still expected to be able to use it. When he’d been in the Navy, he had seen that happen more than once—a man without a leg would experience itching where the phantom limb was, and no amount of logical reasoning could persuade the itch to vanish.
No amount of logical reasoning could persuade him not to miss Emmeline. When she had first arrived in his house, she had been a thorn in his side, but at its removal, he just felt the hole left behind.
The best thing he could do was throw himself into discovering what had happened to his brother.
“The Viscount Sarron, Your Grace.”
Adam folded the letter and glanced up to find Nicholas standing in the doorway. He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes and a hunched posture.
“Adam,” he said and came to sit on the chair opposite with the air of a man at the end of his tether. “I called at the house, but there was no one there.”
“I’m spending some time in London,” Adam said unnecessarily. “Were you hoping to speak with me?”
“Where’s the Duchess?”
“I sent her to recover at her parents’ home.” Adam rubbed a hand over his face, not wanting to confess that they were, for the time being, separated. “Were you hoping to speak to her directly?”
“No, I merely wanted…” Nicholas shook his head and folded his ankle over his knee. “My wife has taken quite a liking to her. Is she well?”
“Well, she suffered a fall.” Mindful of what Emmeline had told him, Adam squinted at Nicholas, trying to assess how he took the news. “She hit her head.”
“How upsetting.” Nicholas affected shock, but Adam couldn’t tell if it was real or not.
He must be going mad. He poured himself a glass of scotch and handed one to his friend.
“The timing was unfortunate. I deemed it better to let her recover elsewhere.”
“I’m surprised she’s not at the house.” Nicholas swirled his drink. “The house is empty?”
“What does it matter to you?”
“Nothing, of course.” Nicholas glanced away. “What about your purported brother, Rickard?”
“I believe he’s also in London, although he has secured his own accommodation at an inn.”
While he was investigating, Adam wanted no one too close to him. Proximity affected judgment, and there was a real chance that Rickard was at fault.
Then again, anyone could be responsible.
He missed his brother. Missed the ease that came from knowing he had an older figure who could take charge. Adam was never supposed to inherit the dukedom.
William was supposed to still be here. They were supposed to go through life together, as brothers should. All the difficulties of their childhood, all the scars he carried, were supposed to be left in the past.
Instead, Adam was forced to relive the moment his mother had died every time he thought about his brother. Most of his family had perished, one way or the other.
But if he could do this one last thing for William, he would discover what happened. Even if it killed him.