They needed some time, he decided, and then he would talk to Isla. So he needed to avoid her. Just for a few days. Which meant he might also need to avoid Oliver.
I don’t like it, but it cannot be helped.
“Ronan?” The exasperation in Hobbes’ voice told him the butler had been trying to get his attention for a while.
“What? What is it?”
Sighing, Hobbes collected his luncheon tray. “Very well. I shall leave you to your moody ways, Your Grace. Ring if you have need of your staff.”
Ronan knew better than to take this personally. Still, there was a part of him that knew Hobbes was right in using that scolding tone. Only Ronan didn’t want to do anything about this. He merely wanted time to himself, and yet he couldn’t even hear his heartbeat with this rainfall.
Crash!
“What the devil is going on?” Ronan picked himself up immediately and went to the door. He opened his mouth to scold Hobbes but paused when he noticed the man was whispering to the footman, not caring about the tray and broken items at his feet.
What could be more important than this?
Hobbes hadn’t noticed anything. He had a hand on the footman and he gestured down the hall. “What do you mean, hours ago?”
“I just heard it from Sally who delivered to the stables,” the young man was explaining. He didn’t notice the tray and had raised his hands in defense. “I swear! No one knew. Doreen, the lady’s maid, was napping and she said her lady had given her leave for some time.”
Ronan’s blood ran cold.
“What about the stables? No one realized she never returned?”
The pieces of an awful story were coming together too quickly for Ronan’s liking. He stormed forward, his shoulders stiff. “What is happening? Where is the duchess?”
Both of the servants whirled around with wide eyes. “Your Grace,” Hobbes started apprehensively.
But Ronan could tell he was about to pacify him, which he didn’t want. He looked to the footman. “She went riding, is that it? Who gave her a horse? Which grooms went with her? When did she leave? And why the devil did no one think to stop her with this weather?” He was shouting by the end of his tirade.
“We’ll do our best to––” Hobbes started, blinking ferociously fast.
“Find my cloak now.” Ronan stormed to his room to switch out shoes for his boots. It only took a minute. By the time he stomped off to the back door, Hobbes was holding his cloak and cap for him.
The butler swallowed, watching him pass by. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”
“Prepare a hot bath. And a switch, because someone is going to learn a hard lesson,” Ronan huffed before descending into the storm.
Judging by the grunt from his butler, Hobbes didn’t believe him about the punishment. Which was fair. Ronan didn’t believe in that, just as his father hadn’t. But this had him sorely tempted now. He strode quickly through the lane to the stables where his horse was already waiting for him.
“Your Grace, might I––” Liam started.
Ronan was too angry to be kind. “Where does she frequent?”
“All over, Your Grace,” the young man stammered. He wouldn’t meet Ronan’s gaze. “The town and the fields and lake.”
“She didn’t say?”
“I… she turned right, I think. I believe she went to the lake.” He phrased it like a question.
Ronan grimaced. Clenching his teeth, he stormed off at once. His horse was a fine rider for distance or speed or weather. They had been together for many years now, and he was particularly fond of the creature. This was the only horse he trusted.
He hadn’t thought to ask about Isla’s horse. Although he supposed it was normal for her to ride, as any lady might, Ronan hadn’t thought about ordering her to stay away from the stables. Gifting her the carriage should have ensured her safety on the roads; but how could he have missed this? A risk, a foolish risk. A grave mistake on his part.
He had forgotten his gloves. The reins were slippery in his hands, and he had to clench them tightly. Anger kept him warm. He was furious at Isla for having gone out like this, furious at himself for not warning her away from horses and danger, and angry at everyone else for not preventing this.
A sickly feeling reached through his veins like a winter chill. What if she was hurt? What if something worse had happened?
