Page 73 of The Duke and the Scarred Bride

The elderly butler greeted him, his eyes widening as he took in his clothing, but whatever he going to say, he kept to himself, allowing him to make his way inside.

The first thing Percival noticed when he stepped into the manor was that it was quiet—a stark contrast to how busy it was when he left that morning. It seemed that the artisans who had been working earlier must have finished their duties for the day.

As he made for the stairs, he almost ran into a maid carrying a bowl of water.

“Apologies, Your Grace,” the girl stuttered, her voice high-pitched with terror.

A close look at her face and he recognized her as Louisa’s shy, freckled-faced lady’s maid.

“It is quite all right, Anne. Is my wife in her chambers?” he asked gently so as not to spook her.

“No,” Anne replied in a slightly wary tone. He guessed he had not been able to reassure her. “She is not in her chambers, Your Grace. She said something about going to the library to retrieve a book after the artisans left. I think she might be there.”

“Thank you,” he replied, a smile tugging at his lips.

Of course, his bibliophile of a wife would most likely be found curled up on a sofa, with her nose buried in a book, losing herself in some story woven by some author.

Forcing himself to walk slowly so as not to give away his excitement, he ascended the stairs, finding his way to the library. But a brief look into the room told him that his wife was not there.

He thought that perhaps she had borrowed the book from his study, but she was not there either, and a look into the drawing room and her bedchamber told him much the same.

He then made for the music room. So many papers were scattered across the floor that it looked untidy. They were possibly remnants of her brainstorming session the previous night. His wife had an uncanny habit of waking up in the middle of the night to compose music, after all. She claimed that it was in those ungodly hours that she got most inspired.

He had let her be simply because he was incredibly proud of her achievements and wanted to support her in all her musical endeavors.

His wife was talented, that much was true, but it was unfair that a person like her had not been allowed to play outside the confines of their townhouse for fear of being sneered at by the vindictive members of the ton. He had a plan to launch hermusic into London Society soon. So, for now, he resolved to allow her to practice.

He picked up the papers, his eyes eagerly scanning them for any clues to her whereabouts, but they weren’t helpful… unless she started writing codes through musical notes—but that was quite impossible.

Going back to her room in the hope that she might have returned, he found it still empty. Papers, unfinished letters, more unfinished manuscripts, and the like were strewn all over the floor, but all of them lacked what he truly wanted: information about her whereabouts.

He knew the total disarray of her room and other rooms in the manor should offend his sense of order, but instead, he felt a pang of fear at the thought that she might never return to make a mess again.

He decided to ask Tobias and the servants and see if they had a clue as to the whereabouts of his wife.

“No, Your Grace,” Tobias replied, shame turning his face a ruddy colour. “We have not seen her in the past hour. We just assumed that she was still in the library.”

“You mean to tell me that no one bothered to check in on her throughout the last two hours?” Percival asked, his eyes blazing in anger at the small group of servants who gathered at the bottom of the stairs, their heads bowed in shame. “Someintruder had gained access to my home and kidnapped my wife without anybody’s knowledge?”

He turned to his butler. “Tobias, you do not mean to tell me that my wife was kidnapped and carried away through those doors,” he said, pointing in the direction of the front doors. “Without your notice.”

“I have been here since noon when the workers left. Lieutenant Colonel Weston left just shortly after—something about meeting up with an acquaintance in town. I instructed one of the new footmen to flag down a hackney. I can state confidently that no one was carried out the front doors.”

“If they had not gone through there, then how did they leave?” Percy asked, furrowing his brow in confusion.

The answer came to him like a hurtling train, knocking the air out of his lungs. His eyes searched those of the servants before him. When they landed on Tobias, the alarmed look on his face confirmed his suspicions.

He turned on his heel and bolted up the stairs, not bothering to slow down until he stepped into the library. Moving to the shelf in the room, he drew back a copy of the Shakespearean play,The Count of Monte Cristo, until he heard a click and the sound of a pulley system engaging. The shelf slid open until he was staring into inky darkness.

Sure enough, as he suspected, there were large footsteps that led towards the end of the passageway, which opened onto the bank of the lake at the edge of his estate.

The existence of this passageway was a well-kept secret, known only to members of the Colborne family and their trusted servants. The fact that his wife was kidnapped and taken away via that secret passageway was evidence enough that it was done by family.

But who could it possibly be?

Panic seized him. It constricted his chest, turning his insides to ice until it became difficult to breathe. His vision blurred, and a fine tension spread in his muscles as he came to the conclusion that his wife was, in fact, missing.

He almost exploded at that thought.

---