Page 66 of The Duke and His Jilted Bride

“Obviously not,” she said. “I only…” She stopped. “Did you ever feel anything for me, in all that time, anything at all?”

He suppressed a sigh, wondering why she would even ask. Men had fallen at her feet for years, even knowing she was promised to him. And then there was Frederick. What did Evander’s opinion of her matter?

Unless, he thought, it is because he was the only one who did not fall for her, and she couldn’t accept that. She had to be wanted by them all. That was not something he could fix, and Frederick couldn’t either.

“I felt that you were a sensible person placed in a sensible situation,” he said. “And I felt, when it ended, primarily relieved for both of us.”

She nodded. She looked, oddly, slightly better for hearing it.

“My brother is trying very hard to deserve you. You will honour that, or so help me…” He moved toward the door. “My duty is to my wife alone. I will not be in a room alone with you again while you are in this house.”

He could not make himself go any further than the corridor. He stood outside the library door for a moment, and considered his next steps with care, because the alternative was finding Aurelia. He didn’t know what he could tell her. But he would need to be honest, wouldn’t he? No more secrets between them, especially where Seraphina was concerned.

What she had attempted to do sickened him. He felt unsteady on his feet. Everything he had told himself since Frederick’s disappearance had been a fantasy. Theirs was not a perfect, rebellious, foolish love. Frederick was the fool. Seraphina had used him just to prove to herself she was wanted.

He moved to the room where he thought Aurelia had been. Nike was under the table. Evander crouched on the floor beside her, which was not a dignified position for a duke, and put his hand on the dog's side to feel her breathe.

Later, he vowed, he would find Aurelia. He would tell her everything, and then he would tell her the other things properly – like the reason why Seraphina’s revelation felt more like a threat to their happiness than anything else.

He found the brandy at some point. He was not sure how long he sat listening to Nike snore. Long enough for a few fingers of brandy to become ten, and for the afternoon light through the windows to shift from one wall to another.

Then suddenly, there was movement in the drive. He looked up, shielding his eyes from the light and glancing through the glass.

It looked like Poole was coming up the drive at a pace he had never ridden. His coat was open and his face was red and open – wrong. Evander was at the window in seconds. Nike started barking.

Below her, he could hear it now, through the glass, Poole's voice already going before the horse had stopped. He was calling for help.

Evander was out of the drawing room and through the hall in seconds, then through the front door and down the steps before Poole had pulled the horse to a full stop on the gravel. Poole looked down at him from the saddle with an expression Evander had never seen on Poole's face. It was fear, plain and unconcealed. And it made Evander reel back in horror.

“The woods.” Poole was breathing in gasps, his chest heaving. “His horse came down on the low path. He's underneath it, Your Grace. I couldn't– I tried to move it alone and I couldn't.” He stopped. He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth for a moment. “Lord Canterbury… I called out to him, and he did not answer.”

Twenty-Four

The trunk was only half full, but she was crying so hard she could barely see what she was putting into it.

Aurelia didn't care. She crumpled her belongings into balls and put them in anyway, stockings on top of her good evening dresses, a book she hadn't been reading shoved into the corner. She didn't know how she was going to leave. She didn't know who she would ask to bring the carriage around or what she would say when they asked her where she was going. She only knew that she could not stay in this house for another hour and that she needed to be moving, needed to be doing something with her hands, even if that meant packing.

One of the dogs was scratching at the door, and she wagered it was Nike. She had been at it for five minutes, persistent and low, the sound of a dog who could not understand why she was being kept outside.

“Stop,” Aurelia said. Her voice came out wrecked. “Nike, stop. Go away.”

Nike stopped scratching. Then she went quiet entirely.

Aurelia stood with a chemise in her hands and listened. There was no sound. Nike did not go quiet like that. Nike went quiet when someone was coming.

Before she could move to lock it, the door opened. Evander came in.

The first thing she noticed was the blood. There was blood on his shirt and on his hands and a streak of it across his jaw where he must have touched his face without thinking. He looked… Oh God, he looked like a man who had been running and had not yet stopped in his mind. He was staring at her, then at the open trunk, the coat she had thrown on without thinking.

“What…” he started and stopped.

“What happened to you?” she said, throwing down the chemise. The trunk, the coat, all of it fell away. “Evander, whose blood is that?”

“Frederick,” he said, looking through her rather than at her. His hands were shaking as he reached one out to her. “He's been in an accident. Come now.”

Downstairs, she heard it before she saw it.

Seraphina's voice, high and breaking in a way Aurelia had never heard from any person, only animals. There were men's voices too coming from outside. She and Evander were at the top of the stairs, and she could see the entrance hall below. Four men were coming through the front door carrying Frederick between them.