Chapter 23
“Where is my wife?” Kenneth demanded. He did not raise his voice, but he was obviously unhappy.
Mr. Langdon stood perfectly straight, his silver tray resting on his forearm. He remained calm, but his eyes darted nervously to the door.
“Her Grace departed about two hours ago. She brought with her a small trunk and asked to be taken to her family’s estate. She did not leave further instructions.”
Kenneth clenched his jaw so tightly he suspected he would completely destroy his molars.
Two hours? He had spent the time trying to understand the blurry documents in front of his eyes.
Again, he was trying to avoid her. He would take a few steps forward and then a few steps back.
He had encouraged her to show her feelings, but he kept repressing his own.
When the quiet had become too consuming, he stood up and walked around his study.
The pacing was not enough for him. So, he looked for Madeline in the drawing room.
Then, he went to the gardens, hoping that she was playing with Malcolm and the children.
Finally, he entered her chambers, not something that he would do without being certain she wanted him there. But where else would she be?
When he did enter the room, he was startled to realize that it barely had traces of Madeline’s scent. It was as if she had not been there for a while. It was what had him rushing downstairs to ask Langdon about his wife.
“Kenneth?”
Malcolm stepped into the foyer, finding Kenneth still standing there. He was holding an apple, peeling it, while Emily stood behind him. It looked like the little girl was waiting for a task she had given him.
“Yes?”
“You look awful,” Malcolm commented, handing the apple to his daughter, who immediately ran off. “What happened?”
“She is gone,” Kenneth replied, his voice sounding raw and hollow. He was shocked to hear how he sounded. Then again, why would he still hold on to the restraint that he was known for? Had it done him any good? At the moment, he did not even care if the staff could hear him like this.
“Is this why you look so forlorn?”
“Are you not listening, Malcolm? Madeline left two hours ago. She went to her family with a trunk of her clothes.”
Malcolm went still. The easy humor drained from his face, and for a moment, he looked older than his eight-and-twenty years.
“Ah,” he said quietly. “So it has come to that.”
“What do you mean, ‘so it has come to that’?”
“I warned you, did I not?” Malcolm set down the paring knife and met his brother’s eyes. “Women leave, Kenneth. That is what they do.” His voice roughened. “You have let yourself fall for her, and now she has walked out the door, and you let her.”
“I did not let her do anything!” Kenneth snapped.
“She left the house without a word to me. She did not even leave a message. It was Langdon who told me that she was going to her family and that there were no further instructions. The last time we spoke... I told her I did not dislike her. But I...” He dragged a hand down his face. “I have to get her back, Malcolm.”
Malcolm was quiet for a moment. Then he clapped his brother on the shoulder.
“Then do not stand here talking to me about it,” he said. “I lost mine because I did nothing, because I drank instead of chasing her down and demanding the truth. Do not make my mistake. Go. Get her back, you fool.”
So, he had a carriage bring him speedily to her family’s house. His heart was beating fast. What would he do when he reached there? What would he tell her?
By the time he arrived, night was starting to fall, and from the sounds coming from inside the house, the family had already begun eating dinner. It was not completely dark yet, but candles were already lit generously inside the house from what he could see.
Kenneth did not wait for his footman to lower the steps; he was already flying from the carriage, eager to see Madeline. She had been gone from Huntington for only a few hours, and he was losing his mind. He sometimes avoided her for days! His reaction made no sense at all.
Soon, the door opened to the sound of laughter and silverware. Yes, he was right. They were already eating dinner.
“Your Grace!” Lady Marlow gasped as she scrambled to rise from her seat. “I... I am so sorry, but we were not expecting you. What a wonderful surprise. Please do join us for dinner.”
Kenneth’s eyes immediately searched for Madeline. She was sitting halfway down the table, her eyes wide with obvious shock. Her breath hitched at the sight of him. Then, a flush spread on her cheeks as she clutched at her linen napkin.
He was about to give her a wry smile, but then he saw who was seated to her left.
The young man was objectively handsome, with a rakish smile, which Kenneth recognized in social circles.
This stranger had perfectly coiffed dark hair, and everything else about him seemed self-assured and fashionable. Kenneth’s smile froze on his face.
“Your Grace!” Lord Marlow boomed, his trumpet ready in his ear. “Come in now, my good man! There is plenty of food to eat, and we have company, too.”
“Thank you,” Kenneth said with a small bow. His politeness was icy, and he knew that it would not fool Madeline. Or perhaps she was too occupied by the man sitting next to her? “I fear I may have interrupted a gathering.”
“Not at all, Your Grace,” Lady Marlow insisted, gesturing for a footman to set an extra place setting for the Duke across from Madeline.
“This is Mr. Oliver Sheffield.” The man stood and bowed slightly to Kenneth.
“Mr. Sheffield, this is the Duke of Huntington, Madeline’s husband.
Mr. Sheffield is joining us for dinner because Mr. Sheffield’s brother, Selina’s betrothed, was not able to make it due to some pressing matters.
So, he sent his brother to settle the final arrangements of the marriage. ”
“It is an absolute honor to meet you, Your Grace,” the other man said. “I was telling Her Grace stories about my travels. She was kind enough to find my tales amusing.”
Kenneth gave a little nod of acknowledgment and muttered, “Is that so?”
Finally, the footman had finished setting his plate and utensils and had served him a slice of roast beef.
Kenneth’s attention was not on his food, however, but on how Mr. Sheffield seemed to lean slightly closer to Madeline.
The way he edged closer to his wife seemed too familiar, and it made a rush of jealousy course through his veins.
“As I was saying earlier, Your Grace,” Mr. Sheffield murmured, with a voice too smooth for Kenneth’s liking.
“The country estate may be too dreary during the winter, but my brother prefers it over the London townhouse. I already told him that he needs a spirited woman, perhaps one with your wit, Your Grace.”
“Why my wit?” Madeline asked, laughing. Kenneth did not like how soft and melodic the sound was. Why was she giving this man so much attention? “He is marrying Selina, and she has enough spirit to provide the match.”
“I am right here, Maddy,” Selina complained good-naturedly. “It is a shame that my betrothed is not here, though.”
“To which he sincerely apologizes,” Mr. Sheffield replied.
Portia rolled her eyes. It seemed that only Kenneth saw that. At least, someone felt the same way he did. Maybe not exactly, but close. He was still furious that his wife refused to meet his eyes. Instead, she was giving that dandy her full attention.
Kenneth’s chest tightened with this unfamiliar agony.
Madeline continued talking with the man whose presence was entirely unwanted, if anyone had to ask him.
He had wanted that smile for himself, and she was giving it freely for this man’s terrible jests.
Still, he knew his fault in this. He was the one who had crushed her smiles.
Kenneth suddenly stabbed his roast beef with his fork. It was a display of poor manners, not something he was known for. However, he felt some satisfaction as he buried the silver tines into the meat.
The motion was not lost on Madeline. Her eyes snapped to his, wide and questioning. However, she said nothing and turned her attention back to Mr. Sheffield.
“Your Grace!” Lord Marlow shouted from his end of the table. “Did I ever tell you about the winter sometime in the nineties? With the snow so thick and us living in the country, we had salted cod for weeks! It is a miracle we did not fall ill from that.”
“No, Lord Marlow, you have not mentioned it to me before,” Kenneth replied politely, trying his best not to look at the old man but at his wife.
“It was terrible business!” Lord Marlow exclaimed. “I remember it every time we have a good dinner. It is good to be grateful.”
“Yes, it is.”
Selina and Lady Marlow had their own conversation, which was mostly about wedding preparations.
Portia had sneaked a book and was reading it surreptitiously from under the table.
Kenneth sat ramrod straight, feeling frustrated that he had to continue listening to Lord Marlow while turning to his wife every now and then.
Kenneth was a volcano about to explode. He noticed how Mr. Sheffield passed Madeline the salt, or had the back of his hand on the edge of her plate setting.
The Duke had the sudden urge to throw the man out of the window, but he thought of Selina’s marriage and kept his peace.
However, if the man crossed more boundaries, he would be forced to act on them.
Soon, Lord Marlow’s voice no longer registered. It was like a muffled droning, while the food barely woke his taste buds. He wanted to drag his wife out of the house and bring her home to put an end to his hell.
“...and that was how we lost our best bull in the summer of ninety-three!” Lord Marlow concluded his long-winded tale.
“A fascinating tale, indeed,” Mr. Sheffield replied, although Kenneth suspected the man’s attention was solely on his wife. He turned to Madeline and said, “Your Grace, your grandpapa is a treasure.”
“He is, indeed,” Madeline replied, looking pleased.
“Oh, you should not believe half of the things he says!” Lady Marlow said. “I swear, most of them happened in his imagination.”
“What problem do you have with my intonation, Margaret?” Lord Marlow was confused.
“I said, you have a great imagination!” Lady Marlow practically screamed in his ear trumpet.
“I already know that. You do not have to yell at me, woman.”
Everyone seemed to sigh at that, but Kenneth’s eyes were back to Madeline, giggling over something Mr. Sheffield had said.
“I do believe it is time for some parlor games! Don’t you think so?” Lady Marlow said, breaking some of the growing tension.
“What a splendid idea, Lady Marlow!” Mr. Sheffield agreed enthusiastically. Then, he turned to Madeline once more. “Your Grace, I am eager to see your skills at charades. I have heard from Miss Selina that you are legendary at it.”
Kenneth had had enough. He immediately stood up, strode around the table, and offered Madeline his hand.
“Forgive me,” he said, his eyes only on her. “But I find I must steal my wife away for the evening. Thank you for the dinner, Lord and Lady Marlow.”
“Kenneth, it is still quite early. The family has only just gathered.”
“I know, and I would not ask if it were not important,” Kenneth said.
He did not pull at her hand. He only held it, his thumb tracing the sensitive skin of her palm, like a quiet plea.
He hoped that only she could feel his desperation.
“There is a great deal we have left unsaid, Madeline. More than you can possibly imagine. I am asking you to come home with me. Please.”
Madeline’s eyes softened at those two last words that confirmed it was a plea. Kenneth could feel her studying his face. Then, she stood up.
“If there is urgent business at Huntington, go on, Madeline. Go home with your husband. We cannot keep you here,” Lady Marlow reassured with a smile.
Mr. Sheffield stepped back, clearing his throat awkwardly.
Without waiting for another word from Madeline’s family, Kenneth urged his wife to his side.
He strode out as if it were a matter of life and death, and she tried her best to match his steps.
Soon, they were in the waiting carriage.
He hoped that this time he could better express himself to his wife.