Duncan sorted throughthe correspondence in the basket on his desk. Nothing. Again. He threw himself back into his chair and scrubbed his face with both hands. When Merry had said she would be staying with her sister to help with the new bairn, he hadn’t realized she’d be traveling to the Lake District. And now here she’d been gone over a fortnight and only sent one letter to let him know she had arrived safely.
“Barclay!” His bellow echoed through the townhouse. “Barclay!”
The harried butler slid to a stop in front of the open doorway of the office. “Yes, my lord?”
“This is all the correspondence? Nothing else has come from the post?”
“That is everything that has arrived thus far, my lord. Should anything else come, I shall notify you immediately, as you requested.” The man stood there, hands clenched, patiently waiting.
Unleashing a frustrated growl, Duncan swept everything off his desk. Papers flew into the air, and everything else clattered to the floor.
The butler rushed to clean it up, but Duncan stopped him. “Leave it! Leave me.”
Barclay backed away with a sympathetic nod, then slipped out into the hallway, his steps echoing in the empty tomb that the place had become ever since Merry left.
With a hard shove, Duncan pushed up from his chair and went to the window, leaning against it with his forehead propped on his forearm. He glared at his neighbors strolling along the sidewalk in front of his home, enjoying the balmy spring day. As far as he was concerned, the day couldn’t be any darker. His sunshine had gone to the Lake District.
“Was that ye bellowing like a great beast?” his mother asked from the doorway.
“Go away.”
“I’ll not.” The impatient tapping of her toe on the wood floor grated on his already raw nerves. “What ails ye, or is it the same thing that’s ailed ye for the past two weeks?”
“It has been longer than two weeks. It is nigh on three.”
“I see.”
“What the feckin’ hell does that mean?”
“Dinna use that language with yer mother. Ye know better.” She swept into the room and clicked her tongue like a ticking clock. “Had a wee tantrum here, did we?”
He turned from the window, raging loneliness burning through him. “She promised she would return.”
“It has only been two weeks, son. This is her sister’s first child. She’s probably more than a little grateful for Merry’s company.”
He thumped his chest. “Ineed her company.”
“Why?” His mother toed her way through the mess on the floor and drew closer. “So ye can behave like a cowardly arse and wallow in the misery ye created for yerself and her?”
“That is not fair.”
“Nor is it fair how ye deceived the lass.” Mother clicked her tongue again.
“Stop making that infernal noise.”
She blew out a heavy sigh. “If ye had been honest with her about not having children—”
“She never would have married me.”
“Ye dinna know that.”
He snorted. “Aye, I do.”
“So ye intend to spend the rest of yer days living only half a life while waiting for it to end?”
“Ye sound like her.”
“Ye married a wise woman. Ye should listen to her.” She drew closer still, her black skirts rustling like an insistent whisper that he should heed her words. “I know why ye feel the way ye do, but sometimes, we must do that which we fear the most to set ourselves free.”
