Page 63 of The Duke and the Wrong Bride

“Likely,” Mr. Jones agreed. “My feeling is that he wants you to fail. If your tenants move on, the value of your land will drop considerably, and you might be forced to sell. I suspect that he’s the one seeding these rumors, hoping to turn a tidy profit if the worst should happen.”

“You said you had a plan?” Henry snapped, angry now because he couldn’t fathom why someone who do such a thing.

Mr. Jones recoiled. “An idea. My men in the north seem to think that most of these tenants of yours are following the word of one or two of your major leaseholders, those who would stand to lose the most if the worst should be proven true. My thinking is that you pay these men a visit personally and assure them that their fears are unfounded. If you are able to change their minds, the rest should follow.”

Henry groaned. “I tried that already.”

“Weeks ago,” Mr. Jones pointed out. “Before things became so dire. The fact that it has been weeks may work in your favor, proof that everything is fine. If it wasn’t, then surely you would have sold already? You need to convince them, Your Grace. In person.”

It was the last thing Henry wanted to hear. A trip to the north was a troublesome burden at the best of times, as it would require him to be away for several days, even weeks! But now, with how things were going with Charlotte, he worried that even a single day away might be their undoing.

He needed to talk to her. He needed to find out what was wrong. She was doing her best to avoid him? She was doing her best to cut him out? Well, she still lived under his roof, and so long as she did, she would listen to what he had to say. And hopefully, the way that she had been behaving was all in his head.

Even if he very much doubted it.

* * *

“What do you mean, she’s not here?” Henry asked, confused, almost as if he hadn’t understood what he had heard.

“As I just told you,” Lady Ramsbury said simply, “she isn’t here. She left a few hours ago.”

“Did she say where she was going?”

“Not to me.”

“And you didn’t think to ask?!” he exclaimed in frustration.

Lady Ramsbury was spending the afternoon practicing her crocheting. Sitting by the hearth, enjoying a cup of tea and some biscuits, she looked extremely comfortable for someone who didn’t live here. What was more, she looked rather annoyed that her private time was being interrupted so rudely.

She sighed and put her needles down, looking up at Henry, who stood over her. “My daughter is an adult, Your Grace. What is more, this is her home, not mine.”

“So, you noticed,” Henry responded before he could stop himself.

She cocked an eyebrow. “And when my daughter told me she was leaving her own home for the day, I didn’t think to demand answers. That’s your job, not mine.”

Henry groaned and ran a hand through his hair, that sense of frustration mounting, that little voice in his head warning him to keep his temper. He wasn’t angry with Lady Ramsbury… at least not for this. He wasn’t angry with Charlotte either. All he wanted was to know where his wife had gone, a question that should have had an easy answer but was now proving to be otherwise.

“Thank you,” Henry said with forced pleasantry. “Sorry to disturb you.” A smile next, one which Lady Ramsbury didn’t even notice as she picked up her needles and went back to what she had been doing.

Henry stormed out of the room, his next port of call Beatrice. Surely, she would know where Charlotte had gone? The two sisters were thick as thieves and spoke about everything.

“I haven’t seen her since this morning,” Beatrice said simply. “Why? Is she not here?”

“Apparently not,” Henry groaned, feeling annoyed now. And stupid.

He sought Hannah next, who also had no idea where Charlotte had gone. Then he spoke to every staff member in the castle, certain that one of them might know. Even the stableboys, who had helped prepare the carriage that Charlotte had taken, had no idea. Apparently, they hadn’t thought to ask!

His wife was missing, although that felt like an exaggerated way to describe what had happened. Really, she was simply gone. Left. Fled, for want of a better term. A circumstance that ordinarily might not have worried Henry so much, were it not for the way she had been behaving these last few days. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to so much as consider it. But what if… what if Charlotte had grown bored with him and, taking a leaf out of Beatrice’s book, had decided to run?

Needless to say, it was a long afternoon.

The tempest of emotions that besieged Henry as he waited for Charlotte to return, assuming that she would, was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Worry, because what if she was hurt? Despair, because what if she wasn’t coming back? Regret, because what could he have done to change her decision? Acceptance, because he wasn’t going to go chasing someone who didn’t want him in the first place. Remorse, because he felt bad for thinking such a thing. And finally, as the sun began to set, as night began to take hold, as supper was served and he heard the sound of a carriage rolling up the drive, anger.

Lady Ramsbury, Beatrice, Hannah, and the twins were just sitting themselves at the table when Charlotte’s carriage turned onto the drive. Lady Ramsbury made to stand up, but Henry ordered them to stay put. As said, he was angry at this point, and he didn’t much like the idea of them seeing him and his wife fight because he had no doubt that that was exactly what was going to happen.

He was outside, waiting, when the carriage finally pulled up. Arms crossed. Visage a thing of demented rage. His body shook from the way his blood boiled in his veins. Three days without the two so much as raising their voices to one another, a streak that was about to be broken.

The carriage came to a stop, and the door opened. Charlotte’s body appeared in the doorway, and before she so much as looked up and met his eyes, he was on her.

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