Page 29 of Sacrificing the Untamed Lady Henrietta
“You cannot have seriously done this to me!” he insisted inconsolably. “Keeping her from me until this moment. The heavy veil, the –”
“Son,” the Duke began, “you must –”
“No,” Ewan cut him off harshly. “Youmust.You. You must understand—”
The Duchess stepped into the vestibule, her face drawn tight with concern. She interrupted her son without apology and addressed the Duke.
“My dear, Miss Oliver has fled.”
Ewan felt something like relief rush through him as the news momentarily derailed the argument. As he calmed down, his father lit up with his own fresh wave of indignation.
“What?” the Duke roared. “Fled where? On foot?”
“Yes, dear. What shall we tell the guests?”
“Has anyone gone after her?” He turned to Ewan. “Go after her.”
“I will not,” Ewan replied defiantly.
“My dear,” the Duchess continued, “the guests?”
“You will!” the Duke roared again. “Now!”
“I will not. We will let her go God-knows-where. It is for the best.”
The Duke looked at Ewan in disbelief. “For the best? Do my ears deceive me? She is your wife!”
“And we are not children. I will not be commanded to chase her like a child,” Ewan snapped. “She has run off on her own power, and I will be damned if I will drag her back against her will. Mother, please tell the guests that the wedding dinner will be served as planned and all are expected to stay.”
The Duchess ducked back into the chapel and began to make the announcement.
“With no bride?” the Duke questioned Ewan with a sneer. “You will eat your nuptial dinner alone?”
“What I do, with or without my wife, is my concern, Father. Mine alone. You have done quite enough. I will do my best to cope, but you will please refrain from further meddling in my affairs. Now if you will excuse me, I need to compose myself.”
With that, Ewan quit the vestibule and walked briskly toward his apartments. He was becoming completely unhinged, barely held together by the slimmest of restraint. It was all a cruel joke, the type that leaves no one actually laughing.
He entered his rooms and went straight to the decanter, poured a scotch and drained the glass in one swig. He poured another.
What a wreck. His parents meant well, but he should never have agreed to go through with this. Yes, they were right to be concerned about the future, the duchy, an heir. All of that was very real. But there was still plenty of time to address those matters. They had pressed him too soon.
And then there was the girl! Who was this girl and where did she come from? And how, in the name of all that is holy, could she be the mirror image of Patricia? Again, a cruel joke.
A knock on the door brought out his growl. “Go away.”
The door opened a crack and Lord Averson poked his head in.
“I hear this is where you hide the good scotch.”
“I am in no need of company, Averson.”
“Clearly. However, I am in need of good scotch, so you’ll forgive me for interrupting your moody musings.” The man made himself at home at the decanter.
Ewan grunted at his friend’s blithe characterization of this debacle.
“Come now, what say you?” Averson asked cheerfully.
Slumped in a large chair, Ewan extended his glass to Averson. “Another drink, if you don’t mind.”
