Page 616 of From Rakes to Riches

What the blazes was his sister about?

He swung his bedroom door wide and asked the first servant who shuffled past exactly that. The servant swallowed, not too keen on further invoking the ire of the resident duke. Rake attempted to school his face into one less wrathful. “Perchance, my good man,” he said, in a semblance of patience, “would you happen to know what all the hurly burly is about?”

“’Tis Lady Artemis, Your Grace,” said the servant.

Rake only now noticed the man held a leather satchel clutched in each hand. “Is she going somewhere?”

This would be the first time she’d left her rooms since they’d arrived.

Rake didn’t know if this was a good development.

Or a very bad one.

Before the servant could answer, Artemis emerged from her bedroom door at the far end of the corridor, dressed from head to toe in a lavender velvet travel costume. Rake’s brow furrowed. “Going somewhere?” he called out.

She closed the distance between them. “I’m leaving, Rake.”

“I’d gathered as much,” he said. “But why?”

She swallowed, and her gaze shifted, presumably to supervise the servants hauling her belongings out of her rooms. “I can’t be here,” she said, the words simple, but weighed down by a burden of meaning.

“Shall I have the carriage made ready for our return to Somerton?” he asked.

He needed to get out of London. He didn’t trust himself not to do something rash.

Like ride straight for the London Docks, when he had an appointment with a very different lady at ten o’clock.

Artemis met his gaze, hers unsteady, yet sure. “I’m leaving without you.”

“Artemis,” Rake began, “there was nothing anyone could do.”

Grief held deep shimmered about her. “I know, Rake. Still, I can’t bear to look at you right now.” She swallowed. “I can’t bear to look at myself either, for that matter.”

“It’s one of those things that happens on the racecourse, Artemis. No one can predict it. You know that.” He was saying all the right words, but he could see none of them were sufficient to penetrate the cloak of mourning wrapped tightly about his sister. “It’s not your fault.”

“Oh?” Artemis shot back, anger swirling through the single syllable. “Then whose fault is it? You tried to warn me. Gem tried to warn me. I wouldn’t listen to anyone.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. When she opened them again, they were shiningwith unshed tears. “Dido trusted me, and now she is—” Artemis choked up, unable to speak that last word.

Rake tried a different angle. “At least tell me where you’re going.”

She drew herself up to her full, willowy height and regained her composure. “To West Riding.”

“Endcliffe Grange?” he asked for clarity’s sake.

She nodded tightly.

“Is it necessary to go all the way to Yorkshire?” He had to ask. He’d rather she go to Somerton, where he could keep an eye on her.

“I’m,erm, meeting a friend up there.”

“Afriend?”

“I do have a few of those, you know.”

“In Yorkshire?”

“Besides,” she began. Her jaw took on the pugnacious set that signaled staunch opposition to further argument. “I own the Grange outright, as Grandmama left it to me.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

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