“Youwillapologize,” Hugo insisted, his voice low, deep, and unyielding. “Fail to do so, and I swear by Heaven, I will see that both you and your husband are utterly ruined.”
Lord Markham let out a whimper, clutching his wife’s arm. “My love, please… is this quite necessary?”
“Do not lay a hand on me, you incompetent fool!” Lady Markham shrieked, flicking her fan sharply to ward him off. “This… this barbarian is causing a scene! And it was not only me. Lady Wickdale and Lady Corsley were involved as well!”
“A scene, is it?” Hugo’s voice dropped to a fierce whisper, every word a controlled blaze. “It isyouand your coterie of gossips who have caused irreparable harm to a lady who has done naught but strive to comport herself within your absurd societal dictates.”
You do not deserve her.
He turned on his heel, leaving the stunned pair in his wake, his heart a furious drum against his ribs.
He had made a scene. He had lost his temper in a room full of London’s elite. The whispers had already begun, a soft, venomous hiss that followed him as he made for the exit.
“Did you hear how loud he was?” Lady Featherstone whispered to Lord Abernathy as he passed. “His grandmother would be most appalled. He is lucky Her Grace is in France for the week!”
“Indeed, most unlike His Grace to show such anger. I wonder what happened?” Lord Abernathy asked rhetorically, grabbing a canape from a passing tray. “Most unlike him, indeed.”
The scandal would be the talk of the ton by morning, and every paper would have a field day with the Duke of Arrowfell’s public display of rage.
Worst of all, Hugo did not care.
A cold, hard part of him felt a grim satisfaction at the horrified expressions on their faces.
Serves them right.
“Hugo,” Aaron said, rushing over to him with a glass of brandy, his face a mask of concern. “Are you all right?”
“Leave it alone, Sarford,” Hugo growled, pressing the glass to his chest. The liquid sloshed over the rim, but he did not notice. He was focused on the exit, on the thought of finding her. “I have something to attend to.”
How could she have left without a word?
As his mind raced, he became angrier. Not just at them, the gossiping harpies who had cornered her, but ather.
Why did she not tell me?Why did she not come to me for help?
She was his responsibility. He was her protector. The thought of her running off was a fresh spark on his kindling rage.
Did she not trust him? Did she see him as just another person to be feared or avoided?
He clenched his fists at his sides. He would not tolerate her silence or evasion. He would not allow her to shut him out. Hehad promised to keep her safe, and at the first sign of a threat, she had fled.
The idea of her being out in the city alone, vulnerable, stirred a hot terror that mixed with his rage. He did not care what the world thought of him. He did not care about his title or his reputation. He was a man who had been pushed to his limits, and all he could think of was the woman who had brought him to this point.
He would find her, and this time, there would be no running away.
“I hope you are enjoying the festivities, Your Grace,” Lady Paddlefoot said with a deep curtsey, showcasing her generous bosom as she looked up at him beneath full, long eyelashes. “Thank you most kindly for coming and for supporting my chosen charity.”
She was a perfectly poised doll, with neat blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes that rivaled the unique sea-green hue of his own. She smelled strongly of the lilacs she had placed around the room, a most fragrant scent.
She was everything a duke’s wife should be. Yet, only one woman occupied his every thought.
He did not want flowers and finery; he wanted a mess and mud. He wanted a tangle of dark brown hair and sparkling emerald-green eyes. A fiery spirit, a kind heart.
Where are you, Elspeth?
“It is perfectly fine, Lady Paddlefoot,” he replied with a small bow. “If you’ll excuse me, I have important business I must see to immediately.”
“If you are looking for Lady Inverhall, I saw her speaking with Lord Middleby.”
