Still nothing.
“I know you may not want to see me right now, but Imusttalk to you.” He reached for the handle and turned it.
Squinting into the gloom of the room beyond, he frowned at the lack of a fire in the grate. It was a chilly evening thanks to the rain; he did not want her to get cold.
Why has no one prepared a fire for her?
He stepped into the room and looked toward the bed, certain that Selina was sleeping or pretending to.
“Selina?” He walked slowly to the other side of the bed, cautious not to startle her awake.
As his eyes adjusted to the dark, his brow furrowed into deep creases.
There was no one in the bed. It was still made from the morning, not a single coverlet out of place.
She’s not here.
“Selina?” he called once more as he began to move around the room, looking under the bed, opening the wardrobe, checking every corner where a woman who didn’t want to see him might hide.
When it became clear that she wasn’t in her room, he strode back out into the hallway. There was no need to panic. She was probably with her friends somewhere, cursing his name, or telling her mother what a scoundrel he was.
Taking a breath, he retraced his steps to the landing.
“Why is there no one around?” he muttered, the silence deafening.
He hurried down the staircase and cut left toward the drawing room. Inside, there were no lights still aglow, no stragglers remaining, everything steeped in dark quiet. It was the same in the secondary drawing room, the library, and the sun room.
Grumbling under his breath, he crossed back the entrance hall and followed the labyrinth of corridors to the kitchens. There was always someone awake there, baking bread or cleaning pots.
A kitchen maid yelped as he burst into the room, a copper pan clattering into the basin.
“Your Grace?” She stared at him in disbelief. Admittedly, it wasn’t often that he ended up in this part of the manor.
“Do you know where Lady Selina is?” he asked bluntly.
The maid shook her head. “No, Your Grace. I haven’t seen her, but then I’ve been here all evening.” She paused. “Would you like me to wake the chambermaids?”
Philip chewed the inside of his cheek in thought. It wasn’t fair of him to rouse the chambermaids from their slumber, but itwouldhelp him find Selina quicker.
“No, do not wake anyone. If anyone is already awake, then please ask them if they have seen my bride,” he said. “And while you are doing that, I need you to bring Mary to me, wherever she is.”
The kitchen maid hesitated. “Mary? But she is at the dower house.”
The dower house. Is that where Selina has gone? Has she sought advice from my grandmother?
“No matter. Leave the maids to their evening.” Philip headed straight out of the back door of the kitchens and through the shadowed herb garden.
He began at a slow, steady pace, but as he reached the open ground of the lawns, he no longer had the patience for it. Breaking into a run, the rain lashing at his face, he sprinted across the sodden grass until his lungs burned and sides ached.
Since his return to polite society, he had had no reason to run for his life. His muscles protested the remembered exertion, but he didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, until he came to the porch of the dower house.
It was a fine, two-story structure of golden sandstone, set among its own lawns and gardens off to the east of the estate. The place where his grandmother and Lizzy had spent most of their time in his absence, away from the temper and brutality of his father.
Dripping wet, he ran up to the door and knocked until his knuckles stung. It took a while for the housekeeper, bleary-eyed and wearing a housecoat, to come to the door.
“Your Grace? Is everything all right?” she asked, stifling a yawn.
“Is Lady Selina here?” He pushed past her into the house, calling out, “Selina? Selina, where are you?”
