Page 72 of The Duke and the Runaway Bride

“I know someone whose sister works for Miss Jennings. I thought that if I could find some proof that she was the one who published that article, we could unmask her, and all our problems would go away.”

“I told you I would take care of it,” the Duke gritted out. “I told you I would take care of it, but you obviously don’t trust me at all.”

“No, that is not fair,” Beatrice complained. “I do trust you, and I know you are trying to fix this, but why can’t I help?”

“Why can’t you help?” the Duke scoffed, his blood boiling. “Because this is not helping, is it? And you snuck out! If you wanted to help, you should have told me first, and we could have spoken about it.”

When she had told him about sneaking out in men’s clothing, he had found it amusing. Now that she was doing it while married to him, and with trouble brewing around them, he found it reckless and foolish.

“You would not have let me go out by myself,” Beatrice argued.

“No, I would not have,” the Duke agreed. “It was foolish of you.”

“So, now I am a fool?”

“I didn’t say that. Don’t twist my words, Beatrice. You are not a fool, but you have acted like a fool. I was worried sick when I went to your room and thought something had happened to you. Then I worried you had been kidnapped. Now, I find out you were out alone in London, in the middle of the night. You are a duchess now! If someone had discovered that, they could have kidnapped you and held you for ransom. Or, they could have taken you to have their way with you. And someone is out to get you. Do you really want to be walking around London at night, alone? If something had happened to you, I might never have seen you again. It is a small mercy you were not seen by someone.”

“I…”

The Duke was trying to contain his anger. Between the danger she was already in and the danger she had put herself in, anything could have happened. He was trying to deal with the problem as discreetly as possible, and she could have ruined it all.

“Please tell me you were not seen,” he begged, barely containing himself.

“I… I don’t know,” Beatrice admitted. “There was a moment when I thought someone was watching me, but no one followed me—I am sure of that. I am fine, I promise.”

“You are imprudent and foolhardy,” the Duke snapped. “My goodness, I can’t look at you right now. I assume you were headed to your room? Well, on your way!”

“You don’t have to treat me like a child!” Beatrice shouted.

“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t act like one!” the Duke shouted back.

They stared each other down, both of them angry.

Beatrice was the first to back down. She scoffed and then stormed past him to go up to her room.

She had been a fool, but so had he. He had fooled himself into thinking love might be a good thing. He had been wrong. Love, patience, care, and generosity were all weaknesses. He had thought there was something special between them, but how could there be when they were so different? How could he be with a woman who was so reckless and stubborn?

Edwin took a deep breath and checked the door before he went back upstairs.

When he got to his room, there was silence on the other side of the door. He hoped it would stay that way.

ChapterTwenty-Eight

A Difficult Decision

Beatrice stared through the sheer fabric hanging atop her bed at the pale ceiling above. She had not moved from her spot for hours, even when the sunlight had begun to creep in through the window. She had not budged when she heard the Duke stir next door, hoping he would come in and they would make up.

She did not know how that would happen. He had said some things the previous evening that had been hard to hear, and without an apology, she did not know if she could forgive him.

Get a hold of yourself, Beatrice! This is your fault, you snuck out—No, it is my fault that I got caught.

She thought back to the tavern. She had bumped into the shoulder of one of the patrons but had not been able to see below their hood. They were around the same height as her, but from the way it had felt when she had bumped into them, she was sure it was a man. He had entered the tavern after her, she was sure of that.

Then, he stared at her as she was leaving and looked down quickly when she glanced over at him.

Maybe he knew I was a woman below the hood and found it curious.

He had not come after her, he had not wanted to fight when they had bumped shoulders, and he had not followed her. She had spent enough nights outside to know when someone was following her.

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