Page 80 of How to Capture a Duke

Her panic took hold now, and she felt impaled by his evil gaze. “How can you be so cruel?”

“Cruel?” he said, a bitter edge of cynicism in his voice. “Life dealt me a cruel hand when my cousin was given a dukedom and the wealth of Croesus whereas I was given a lesser title and a crumbling estate saddled with debt. Tristan prefers to isolate himself and has no idea what to do with his wealth, whereas I do.”

“Even if you kill me, you won’t get the dukedom unless…” As the words left her lips, another horrible thought came to her.

Spencer leaned close, and his upper lip curled back in a snarl. “You’re right. Not until the Duke of Keswick is dead.”

It took all her willpower not to cringe away and cower to the far end of the carriage bench. He was mad, truly mad. She felt as if a hand had closed around her throat and cut off her air supply.

Spencer leaned back, his demeanor transformed to a deadly calm. “Both deaths must look like accidents, of course. I have yet to sort out the details. One step at a time.”

Olivia’s heart beat wildly in her chest. Ellie knew about the babe, but she had no idea about the gossip rag. And even worse, Tristan had no idea about the babe.

Dear God. If Tristan went to her bedchamber, he’d see her packed trunks and think she’d left him. He had no reason to suspect subterfuge.

She was on her own. Struggling to hold raw emotion in check, she breathed in shallow, quick gasps. She needed all her wits about her. She needed to find a weakness in Spencer, and she desperately needed to find a way out of her predicament before his madness completely took over and he carried out his murderous plan.

Time was of the essence.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Will you be joining Her Grace tonight?” Gordon stood in the entrance of the study, his eyes boring into Tristan’s.

Tristan pushed the stack of correspondence aside. He hadn’t been able to focus on the papers for over two hours. He kept reliving his argument with Olivia in his mind.

The gossip rag lay in a crumpled heap on the Oriental carpet where he’d balled it and thrown it against the wall. Gordon eyed it but did not say a word. Tristan had learned long ago that his servants were attuned to all the comings and goings at Keswick Hall.

Gordon cleared his throat and used his cane to stand to his full height. “The staff likes your duchess. Mrs. Ludson gushes about her, Cook prepares her favorite dishes, and the maids ensure her linens are fresh and her every need seen to before she even asks.”

“Get to the point, Gordon.”

“I appreciate all you do for your tireless work for the Soldiers Bill. It will aid many who are not as fortunate as I was upon my return from France to retain work. But I feel you have been unfair to your duchess.”

“Unfair?”

“I am merely concerned for her, Your Grace. She prefers to take her evening meals in the dining room, and she has not come down tonight. Mrs. Ludson knocked on her bedchamber on three occasions, but there is no answer.”

Tristan pushed back his chair. He didn’t like the idea of Olivia isolating herself in her room. Was she crying? If so, it was because of him. For a man who’d always sought isolation in the past, the thought of her alone disturbed him.

He took the stairs two at a time until he stood before her bedchamber door. He knocked once. “Olivia.”

No answer.

He turned the door handle and stepped inside. The room was dim and vacant. His eyes went to an overflowing trunk in the corner of the room. The lid was open, and it appeared as if garments had been tossed inside. Her silver-handled brush and comb rested on top of the heap of clothing. He threw open the wardrobe, and not a single dress hung inside.

His stomach bottomed out.

She was leaving him.

No. She’d already left and would send instructions to have her belongings delivered elsewhere. He told himself it was for the best. He’d never wanted a wife. Yet the sickening tightening of his gut told him he was lying to himself—had been for a long time now.

His fists tightened at his sides. She was his wife, dammit, his duchess. If she thought she could end their union that easily, she was sorely mistaken.

There was only one place she would go.

…

“This is not going to work,” Olivia said, trying to keep her panic from overwhelming her.