Page 68 of To Dare a Duke

Robert waited outside the address on Upper Walpole Street, trying and failing not to pace. Surely Prue would speak to him, once Minerva explained the situation? His pacing halted as the front door opened and Minerva appeared once more. Her expression did not bode well, and his heart sank. Then he saw the letter in her hand.

It transported him back to that moment, just a few days ago, when she’d put a handwritten sheet of The Dark History of a Damned Duke into his hand, and when his heart had broken as he’d realised the truth.

“She’s gone,” Minerva said, blinking back tears.

“Where?” he demanded, his voice rough with panic, with the fear he might never see her again, might never have the chance to tell her he didn’t bloody care.

At that moment, he realised it was true. He didn’t care about the bloody story. Unless she believed that was who he was, but she didn’t. He knew that. Robert remembered the first time they’d met, remembered the panic in her eyes, and knew then it hadn’t just been his reputation that frightened her… it had been the fear of discovery.

“It doesn’t say,” Minerva said, her expression full of sorrow and regret. “I’m so sorry.”

Robert’s jaw tightened against the desire to curse as frustration burned within him. “Where would she go?”

He looked back at the girl, wanting to shake her as she shrugged. “I’ve no idea.”

“Damnation,” he muttered under his breath, wanting to say far more, wanting to climb back onto his carriage, take the reins from the driver and race at breakneck speed until he found her.

He couldn’t just drive off into the night, however, when he hadn’t the slightest idea of what direction she’d taken. He’d find her, though. Somehow, he would find her.

“She’s not alone,” Minerva said, breaking into his thoughts.

For a moment he believed his heart stopped beating as the words sank in. No. That couldn’t be true. Prue wouldn’t …

“Oh, no!” Minerva said, appalled as he grew still and likely turned the colour of ash as he felt the colour drain from his face. “I mean our maid, Sally. She’s gone too. I meant to reassure you she wasn’t all by herself.”

Robert let out an unsteady breath.

“She says she’ll be in touch, once she’s settled,” Minerva added, giving him a hesitant smile. “I’ll let you know the moment I hear anything, or if I think of anywhere she might have gone. You have my word.”

He nodded, frowning, knowing he couldn’t just go home and go to bed. “Is there the chance she would return to Otford? Perhaps to collect her belongings?”

Minerva thought about that. “Perhaps,” she said. “She has hundreds of books, and Mama would only let her bring a few to London. It’s possible she’d fetch them.”

Robert didn’t wait a moment longer. He had a destination in mind, something to do.

It was better than nothing.

***

It was mid-morning by the time he returned to Beverwyck, tired and dispirited, and sick at heart. If Prue had returned to the cottage in Otford, she had beaten him to it, and she hadn’t lingered. He’d waited there for several hours, just to be certain she wasn’t coming. At least it gave the horses a break after pushing them too hard on moonlit roads over the three-hour journey.

It had been a slower return journey, as he’d allowed the driver to take the reins and had gotten inside. Taking pity on the fellow, he’d told him to take his time. It wasn’t as if there was anything to hurry home for. He’d scared the poor fellow out of his wits, driving like a man possessed. Robert had seen the desire to tell him to get a grip on his sanity on the man’s face, but you didn’t tell a duke he was a bloody fool and to stop this madness, even if he was liable to get you both killed.

He trudged inside the doors of the great house, giving over his hat, gloves, and coat in silence and then stood in the entrance hall, not knowing quite what to do next.

“Lady Helena is in the breakfast parlour, your grace,” the butler ventured, as if this instruction might snap his master out of whatever strange trance had caught him.

It worked well enough and Robert gave a nod, forcing his feet forwards. It was only when he reached the door and opened it a crack that he realised he didn’t want to see anyone… least of all Helena, as she would want explanations.

He backed up, moving as quietly as possible so she wouldn’t notice him, and then paused as he saw his sister wipe a tear from her cheek. Helena was a stoic creature, despite her fragile looks. He’d rarely seen her cry, even when their mother had died. She’d kept the worst of her grief to herself, though he knew she had wept in private.

That tear was enough to have him moving forwards again, forcing his own troubles aside. “What is it?” he asked, hurrying to stand beside her, laying his hand on her slender shoulder. “Helena, what’s wrong?”

She looked up at him, her green eyes lovelier than ever as they sparkled with tears.

“Nothing,” she said, her voice a little unsteady. “Only, it was so lovely I… I couldn’t help myself.”

Robert frowned, perplexed, and then looked down to see what it was she’d been concentrating on when that tear had slid down her face.