Page 73 of A Night of Passion with the Duke

He rushed towards him, shocked when he saw the trail of blood on the floor.

“Your Grace,” the footman cried, looking up at him.

Edward lifted the man’s head, eyeing the fresh blood on the floor. “What is your name?” he asked. “What happened to you?”

“Your Grace, I… I’m sorry,” the footman choked out. “The Duchess… Joana… in trouble.”

At the word trouble, Edward’s mind went into overdrive. He ordered the maid that had caught up to them to send for the physician and held the footman’s head up.

“Speak slowly. The physician is on his way.”

“Your Grace, I’m sorry,” the footman whispered, his voice so low that Edward had to lean down to hear him. “Lady Joana has her and is taking her to a ship to the west.”

Panic immediately filled Edward, and he wanted to move, but the footman stilled him with a bloody hand.

“She’s not alone…” he trailed off as his eyes fluttered shut.

Edward pressed his fingers to the man’s wrist, relieved to feel his pulse, though it was weak.

He signaled to another footman who joined them to hold the man’s head while he got to his feet and rushed to the stables. He sent a footman ahead of him to tell the stable hand to saddle a horse, grabbing his pistol and a hunting knife in the event he needed them.

The ominous warning that Joana and Arabella weren’t alone could mean many things, and he didn’t want to take a chance that could end up endangering Arabella.

He sent a message through his butler to Charles and then to the constables, and tried to look for tracks around the castle walls.

He spotted a fresh trail in the dimming light leading from the back garden entrance and kicked his horse into a fast trot down the track.

His heart pounded in time with his stallion’s hooves as he worried about what he’d find ahead of him. He hoped his wife wasn’t hurt.

Be brave, Arabella. I’m coming.

He found himself wanting to yell, to punch something, to throttle Joana for putting her life and Arabella’s in danger.

Fear like nothing he’d ever experienced pushed him down the trail till he got to a point in the road where the tracks started to merge.

He dismounted his horse, trying to identify the trail he’d been tracking, but with the anxiety flowing through him, he could barely focus.

“Fuck!” he yelled, kicking a shrub.

How was he going to save her when he could barely find the path? For all he knew, they were more than halfway to their destination. If he’d known, he’d have restrained Joana in his study and stopped her from carrying out her foolish plan.

Fuck!

Charles had been right about him all along. He really was incompetent in all he did. He’d failed to identify the hidden threat and protect his wife.

“Edward!” he heard a familiar voice yell.

He looked up to see his brother approaching him at top speed, pulling his horse to a stop at the last minute.

“Calm down, boy.” Charles patted his horse, dismounting. “I got your message. Are you sure she hasn’t run off?”

Red filled Edward’s vision, and he had to clench his fists to keep from hitting his brother. “If you’ve come to insult my wife again, you’re welcome to return home,” he barked.

“I’m not here to—God, man, what am I supposed to think? Joana? The woman has been your ward since?—”

“You don’t think I know that?” Edward snapped.

“You don’t have to be so rude. I’m only here to help.”

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