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Chapter Fifteen
“That’s the usual reaction ladies have to me.”
Reginald’s last words seemed to hang heavily in the air. Rather than the levity he’d hoped the joke would bring, he had instead seemingly made the whole situation far more awkward.
“I’m sorry for Marcella’s behavior,” Lord Castamere said, sighing. “She’s nervous about being married to anyone. The fault does not lie with you. I hope you don’t think that.”
“Not at all,” Reginald replied.
Lord Castamere’s words seemed to confirm what Reginald had already suspected. Lady Marcella did not wish to marry him, which meant that—unfortunately—for the good of the Marquisate and for his friends, he had to convince her that he was a suitable match.
“Please, I know that it may not be strictly proper,” Reginald said, “but allow me to go after her. I’m quite sure we can resolve the matter if we simply speak to one another. Lady Marcella, as I’m sure you know, is a reasonable lady.”
The Viscountess looked as though she doubted that statement, but she smiled gently. “If you’re quite sure…”
Lord Castamere shook his head. “You can’t possibly go alone. Your father would have my head if I allowed even the appearance of impropriety, but you may be right. I shouldn’t go after her. Claudia and I are the ones she’s angry at. Frances—”
The maid stepped forward from where she’d been silently cleaning near the doorway. “Yes, My Lord?”
“Fetch Phillip. Have him go to the stables, so he may accompany Lord Reginald.”
Lord Castamere stood. “I’ll lead you to the stables. I’m sure that Marcella won’t have gone far. She’s likely on the estate somewhere. She does like to ride quite often, particularly when she’s upset.”
“That’s something we have in common. I’m also quite fond of horses.”
Reginald gathered his coat at the door and paused, an image of Lady Marcella imprinted in his mind’s eye. She’d left wearing only her gown, and it was an especially cold day. “If I’m going to rescue the fair maiden, I ought to take her a cloak, so she doesn’t freeze,” Reginald said.
Lord Castamere shook his head. “My impulsive daughter,” he murmured. “I always thought that boys were work, but she is quite something else.”
“I’ll never be bored,” Reginald replied.
He wasn’t already. Try as he might, Reginald just couldn’t manage to reconcile the woman he’d met during the ball, the one who’d been bold and witty, with the prim, haughty creature who was to be his wife. That was, until a few moments ago. When Lady Marcella stood and pressed her hands against the table with such force that Reginald thought the wood might buckle from the sheer force of her will, he’d seen a glimpse of that woman. It was time he found out what she was hiding.
One of the maids brought him a blue cloak, which Reginald draped over his arm. Then, he and Lord Castamere set out across the grounds. They were quite spacious and presently covered in a thin layer of frost, which snapped underfoot. Reginald felt a deep longing for spring. If he was cold, though, Lady Marcella must be freezing.
Hopefully, she isn’t literally freezing.
Reginald had seen too many poor souls in London perish from the cold and the damp, and his pulse jumped when he thought of Lady Marcella, cold and shivering. He had to find her quickly. If she liked to ride often, she surely had some favored spot on the estate.
Once they reached the stables, the stable boys were already preparing two horses to ride. A middle-aged man with dark hair stood nearby, waiting. Seeing them, he bowed. “My Lord.”
“Phillip,” Lord Castamere said, “you are to go with Lord Reginald. You’re to find Marcella.”
“You haven’t missed her by much,” one of the stable boys said.
“Good,” Lord Castamere replied.
“Why don’t you return to your manor, where it’s warm?” Reginald asked. “I’m quite sure I can find her, and I’ll bring her back unharmed.”
Lord Castamere’s face betrayed nothing, but he raised a hand and ran it through his hair. “Thank you. I’m sure you will, and you’re right, of course. I should return to the manor. Claudia will be expecting me, and she’s probably beside herself. She’ll think that we’ve tarnished ourselves in your eyes forever. She cares very deeply about such things.”
Reginald nodded, more from a desire to see the lord leave than from any agreement that the Viscountess needed his comfort. Once Lord Castamere turned towards the manor, Reginald mounted the nearest ready horse. It was a white stallion and quite an impressive one, at that. The animal would’ve been invaluable to a man who needed a quick retreat.
Beside him, Phillip mounted the other waiting horse. “I’m told Lady Marcella went that way,” he replied, nodding towards a small cluster of trees in the distance. “She left on her favorite horse, a gray mare.”
Quite unfortunately, the sky was a dreary shade of gray. Still, even if Lady Marcella had ridden at a full gallop, she couldn’t have gotten far. Reginald had chased prey going much more quickly and with a much greater distance between them before. Finding Lady Marcella couldn’t possibly be that hard.
He coaxed his horse into a careful trot, letting the animal become accustomed to being outside of the stables. Once the stallion seemed comfortable, Reginald urged it into a gallop. He didn’t need to go far; Reginald’s only goal was to cover some distance as quickly as he could. Lady Marcella had been upset, so she’d have likely tried to put as much distance as she possibly could between herself and the thing which upset her.
