Chapter 29
Victor walked with Lionel through the halls of Mulford Manor toward the foyer, and for the first time in years the distance between the brothers felt smaller.
Their conversation in the gardens had exhausted him in ways no business dealings or sleepless nights ever had.
Yet despite the ache in his chest, Victor also felt strangely lighter, as though some burden he had carried since boyhood had finally loosened its grip.
Lionel had listened to every ugly confession without judgment.
Victor still did not know what to do with such understanding.
Lionel paused near the grand staircase and adjusted his gloves with a crooked smile. “Well then, it appears we have finally managed to behave like actual brothers.”
Victor snorted softly. “Do not grow sentimental on me now.”
“Oh, I fully intend to,” Lionel replied. “I may even embrace you again merely to make you uncomfortable.”
“You already have once today. Let us not make a habit of it.”
Lionel laughed outright at that. “You see? There is hope for you yet.”
Victor rolled his eyes, though amusement tugged faintly at his mouth.
They reached the foyer where the morning light streamed through the tall windows and glinted across the marble floor.
Mr. Baxter stood waiting near the front doors with his usual calm expression, though Victor immediately noticed something tense about the butler’s posture.
It was subtle, but enough to put Victor instantly on edge.
“Your Grace,” Baxter said with a bow. “Lord Lionel.”
Lionel reached for his hat. “I ought to depart before grandmother attempts to force me into another tea service.”
“A tragic fate,” Victor replied dryly.
Baxter cleared his throat politely. “My lord, before you leave, it may be wise to avoid Saville Road today.”
Victor frowned. “Why?”
“One of the merchant deliverers arrived moments ago with word of a carriage accident in that part of London, Your Grace. Traffic has apparently come to a complete standstill.”
The world seemed to stop.
Victor barely had time to process the words before a sharp crash sounded behind him.
He spun at once to find Elizabeth standing near the drawing room entrance, one trembling hand pressed against the wall beside a shattered porcelain teacup.
The fragments scattered across the polished floor at her feet.
Her face had gone terribly pale beneath the lace of her cap.
“Grandmother?” Victor said sharply. “What is wrong?”
Elizabeth stared at him with wide, frightened eyes. “Charlotte.”
A violent chill swept through his body.
“She was going shopping with her sisters today,” Elizabeth whispered. “Saville Road.”
Victor’s stomach dropped so hard. For one dreadful instant he could not breathe. All he could see in his mind was twisted wood, terrified horses, shattered glass, and Charlotte trapped somewhere amidst it all. His pulse roared painfully in his ears.
No.
Without another word, Victor turned and stormed toward the front doors.
Lionel called after him immediately. “Victor!”
But Victor barely heard him. He snatched his gloves from the foyer table with shaking hands and strode outside so quickly that Baxter had to leap aside to avoid being struck by the opening door.
The cold morning air hit his face harshly, but it did nothing to calm the panic clawing through him.
Stable boys startled as the duke crossed the courtyard at nearly a run.
“Your Grace?” one called nervously.
“My horse,” Victor barked. “Now.”
The groom hurried at once whilst Victor paced furiously beside the mounting block. Every second felt unbearable. Charlotte had been frightened merely seeing crowded streets from inside a safe carriage.
Dear God, if she had truly been involved in an accident…
No. He refused to finish that thought.
Lionel appeared, slightly breathless from hurrying after him. “Victor, calm yourself.”
“I will not.”
“You do not even know whether she was involved.”
Victor rounded on him with wild eyes. “And what if she was?”
Lionel faltered briefly at the raw terror in his brother’s voice. Victor himself barely recognized it. His hands shook violently as the groom finally brought his black horse forward. He mounted before the animal had even fully halted.
“Victor,” Lionel called again, more firmly this time. “You cannot ride through London like a madman.”
Victor gripped the reins tightly. “Watch me.”
Then he spurred the horse forward.
The roads blurred around him as he rode toward London with reckless speed. Wind tore against his coat whilst his thoughts spiralled into chaos. Every terrible possibility forced itself into his mind no matter how desperately he tried to banish them.
Charlotte frightened. Charlotte injured. Charlotte bleeding. Charlotte gone.
His chest tightened so painfully he thought it might crush him alive.
People shouted as he thundered past, but Victor scarcely noticed them.
He had spent years convincing himself that distance protected him from grief.
No attachments. No deep love. No children.
No vulnerability. Yet the mere possibility of losing Charlotte had shattered every careful lie he had ever built around himself.
I love her.
The truth struck him with devastating force.
He loved her so completely that the thought of life without her turned the world black around the edges.
What madness had possessed him to push her away?
To deny her dreams because of his own fear?
She deserved children and laughter and love and every happiness this world could offer.
And he had nearly ruined it all because he had been afraid.
Victor rode harder.
By the time he reached the outskirts of the crowded district, traffic had become nearly impossible to navigate.
Carriages clogged the roads whilst pedestrians gathered in clusters ahead.
Horses whinnied anxiously amidst the noise.
Victor’s pulse hammered harder as he forced his way through the chaos toward the growing crowd surrounding the accident site.
“Move,” he snapped at one gentleman standing in his path.
The man startled immediately upon recognising the duke. “Your Grace, there has been, ”
“I know.”
Victor dismounted before the horse had properly stopped moving and shoved through the crowd.
Panic clawed viciously at his throat as shattered wood finally came into view ahead.
One carriage had overturned near the curb whilst another stood crookedly across the road with a broken wheel.
Debris littered the street. Women cried nearby whilst several men attempted to calm the frightened horses.
Victor’s heart nearly stopped.
He searched frantically amongst the crowd. A familiar face. Any sign of her. His breathing turned ragged with desperation.
* * *
Charlotte scarcely noticed the crush of people surrounding the accident as she knelt beside an overturned carriage. They had been fortunate to not been involved, but the accident caused all carriages behind it to come to a sudden stop, which caused them to lurch forward.
The street had descended into complete chaos.
Horses stamped nervously against the cobblestones whilst gentlemen shouted for physicians and coachmen struggled to clear the blocked road.
Ladies gathered in frightened clusters beneath the shop awnings, whispering prayers behind trembling hands.
Somewhere nearby, a child cried so pitifully that Charlotte’s heart twisted at once.
“Careful there,” Harriet warned as Charlotte stepped around a broken wheel lying in the street. “Mind your skirts, darling.”
“I am fine, Mama,” Charlotte replied quickly.
Irene and Penelope assisted one of the injured ladies toward the pavement whilst several footmen tried to calm the frightened horses.
Joan, surprisingly composed despite the confusion, helped gather scattered parcels that had flown from the damaged carriage.
Charlotte herself had rushed forward the moment she realized people were hurt.
Whatever fears she carried about Victor and carriages vanished instantly beside the sight of frightened strangers needing aid.
Then she heard the little boy crying again.
Charlotte turned and saw him sitting near the curb wrapped in a gentleman’s coat far too large for him.
He looked no older than ten years old. His cheeks were wet with tears, and his small hands shook violently as physicians tended to his parents nearby.
Though their injuries appeared minor, blood upon the gentleman’s forehead had clearly terrified the child beyond reason.
Charlotte’s breath caught painfully.
Victor had been nearly that age.
For one terrible moment, Charlotte could almost picture him as a frightened little boy standing amidst wreckage and screams and shattered glass. Alone. Guilty. Terrified. The image pierced straight through her heart. No wonder the mere sight of a carriage unsettled him so deeply.
No wonder grief and fear clung to him like shadows, no matter how much charm or arrogance he used to disguise them.
Charlotte knelt carefully beside the child. “Hello there.”
The boy sniffled hard and looked at her with watery eyes. “Is my mother going to die?”
“No,” Charlotte said gently at once. “Your mother shall be perfectly fine.”
“But she is bleeding.”
“Aye, and your father likely frightened her terribly by bleeding first,” Charlotte replied softly. “Gentlemen are quite dramatic creatures when injured.”
The boy blinked at her uncertainly. “They are?”
“Oh indeed,” Charlotte assured him. “My husband once acted as though he were mortally wounded because a horse stepped upon his boot.”
That was not entirely true, though Victor had certainly cursed with great feeling at the time. The little boy gave a weak laugh despite himself. Charlotte smiled warmly and brushed a strand of hair from his damp forehead.