Page 80 of The Dark Duke's Virgin

That had Frederick reeling, feeling now that he might be sick. “And I sent her away…” he said to himself, the disgust he felt present in his tone.

Strange that Frederick had wanted an excuse for why Caroline had lied to him. A reason that he could latch onto that might give him a chance to go after her because he still did not feel right about what happened. Strange that now that he had one, he felt even worse than before. That sense that he had condemned her to death, that she was in danger, and it was all his fault.

His grandmother smiled. “Oh, I am sure that she will not hold it against you.”

“But grandmother…” He looked at her pleadingly. “I told her to leave. To never come back. I… I accused her of using me.” He spat that final word out like poison.

“And if you explain to her now that you know the truth and that you are sorry, I see no reason why it should matter. You are sorry, are you not?” She looked at him.

“Of course!”

“And if you were to send for her, and she agreed to come back…”

Frederick felt his resolve growing. “Then not only would I seek forgiveness, but… but I would assure her that her father could no longer hurt her. She must think he is still searching for her—it is no wonder she was hiding. Oh…” He pushed his chair back and rose. “I must go after her!”

His grandmother beamed. “I was wondering when you would get to that.”

Frederick half made to rush from the room, his blood surging now with a sense of excitement. Yes, Caroline had lied to him, but it had been for good reason! If he found her, told her he knew the truth, explained that she was safe, there was no reason they could not get past this evening.

What was more, there was no reason that they could not be open finally about their feelings for one another. No more lies. Nomore secrets. Tonight would see the end of their past and the beginning of their future.

Only… he stopped after taking just a few steps.

“I do not know where she has gone.” He bit into his lip as he looked about himself as if for answers. “I told her to take a carriage, but I know not where.”

“When the coachman returns, he will know,” his grandmother assured him. “Think about it. This late at night, she has likely taken shelter at an inn. There is still time, Frederick. There is no need to worry?—”

“Your Grace!” a voice called suddenly from beyond the dining room. “Your Grace! Your Grace, quickly! Please!”

Frederick’s eyes widened, and he strode from the dining room, somehow knowing already what the calls of panic were regarding. Into the foyer he marched where a valet, Mr. Bonnet, helped lead what looked to be a drunken stable hand through the room.

“What is this?” Frederick commanded. “Explain yourself!”

“Your Grace, this is William; he works in the stables.” Mr. Bonnet led William carefully through the foyer, one arm slung over his shoulder as the drunk-looking stable hand could barely stand. Covered in mud. Knees buckling. Frederick had half amind to take him by the scruff of the neck and launch him out the front door himself.

“And what is he doing in my home—explain yourself, Mr. Bonnet! Now is not the night for whatever this is!”

“Your Grace!” Mr. Bonnet cried in panic. “I found him wandering through the front gate, dazed, barely able to speak, and?—”

“He is drunk!” Frederick swept toward the stable hand and grabbed him by the collar. “And he ought no better than?—”

“He was attacked!” Mr. Bonnet cried over him. “William! Tell him what you just told me!”

Frederick paused, still holding William by the collar, lifting him so his feet were just about off the ground. William’s eyes were bloodshot and unfocused, one side of his mouth hung loosely, and the mud that was on him covered well over half his body.

“It was… it was Miss Dowding, Your Grace…” William spoke slowly, barely able to string the words together. “She came to me not an hour ago, demanding that… It was a carriage she wanted, Your Grace. Told me you gave her permission to… that you allowed her take one.”

Frederick released William and stumbled back, his face paling as he began to understand what had happened… where this story was heading.

“I was doing just that…” William staggered, and Mr. Bonnet rushed to him, helping him stand the best he could. “There was a man on the road, Your Grace. He begged me to take him… he wanted a ride into town, Your Grace. I told him… told him no!” He gave a shake of his head, gasped, and then shoved a hand into his forehead as if in pain. “So he attacked me, Your Grace. Hit me… my head… he threw me from the carriage and left me to rot.”

“And Miss Dunn—Dowding!” Frederick corrected, again taking William by the collar. “What of Miss Dowding!”

“Woke in the mud, Your Grace…” William swayed, eye rolling back. “Walked here, somehow. Don’t know how I made it.”

“Miss Dowding!” Frederick cried. “What of Miss Dowding!”

“I have not seen her, Your Grace. The carriage… he took it, he did. Must have… she must have… she was in it, I am sure.”

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