Page 80 of The Defiant One
Like an abandoned bride.
Slowly she pulled her legs out from beneath the sleeping dog, climbed from the bed, and went to the windows. Shivering, she hauled open the drapes and was surprised to see stars outside, pricking through a night sky laced with cloud.
Good heavens. What time was it? And where on earth was her husband?
She rang for her maid. It seemed to take forever before Anna came in, yawning and carrying a candle. Celsie frowned.
"Anna, what time is it?"
"An hour after midnight, m'lady."
"An hour after midnight? How long have I been up here?"
Anna looked suddenly sheepish. "All day, m'lady. We knew you'd been under a bit of a strain, so we thought it best to let you sleep."
"Where is my husband?"
"Gone, m'lady. He took Sheik out this morning and hasn't come back."
Celsie stared at the younger woman. "He took Sheik? And the groom allowed him?"
"The groom warned him, but my lord wanted to take the horse, and Hodges said it would've been impertinent to deny him . . ."
Celsie put her head in her hands. She had rescued the fiery Arabian stallion from a traveling carnival. To this day, the horse feared and despised men, his behavior a testament to the abuse he must have suffered at their hands. And now Andrew had taken him and still hadn't returned? Oh, God . . . Celsie tried to rub the parade of nightmarish visions from her eyes. She saw her husband lying helpless in some forgotten pasture with a fractured leg, unable to get help. She saw him lying dead out there in the November darkness, his neck broken, his body stiff and cold. She saw him —
She jerked her head up. "Has Sheik returned to the stables, Anna?"
"No, ma'm. And we were all worried to pieces about the new master, but shortly after he left, one of the chambermaids found this outside your door." Anna reached into her pocket and produced a sealed letter, immediately handing it to Celsie.
One fear was replaced by another. Trying to hide her rising apprehension, Celsie slid a shaking finger beneath the blob of wax, opened the letter, and taking the candle from Anna, read the hastily scrawled words.
My dear Celsie,
I hope you can forgive me that I shall be long gone by the time you find and read this letter. I did not want to disturb you — or perhaps I am simply taking the coward's way out, for there are some matters I am not yet ready to discuss with you, matters which are unavoidable should I remain with you here at Rosebriar. Thus I thought it best that we spend some time apart, until both of us have had more time to grow accustomed to being with each other. I am going to London, and will return when I feel I am ready to offer explanations for my strange and unpredictable behaviour. I hope you can forgive me.
A.
Apprehension turned to fury.
"How the hell are we supposed to grow accustomed to being with each other if he's in London and I'm here?" Celsie howled, balling the letter in her fist and hurling it across the room. "Men! Oh, Anna, are they all this insane, impossible, and bloody-minded?"
"Yes, m'lady. At least Miss Upchurch says so. Would you like me to fetch you some supper? A hot bath?"
Celsie took a deep breath. It made no sense to keep Anna from her bed, and putting her through the trouble of drawing a bath at this hour was not only unfair, but unkind. "No, Anna," she said, on a grim sigh. "But if you could unlace me and help me undress, that will be enough."
Anna was shy but efficient. Moments later, Celsie dismissed her, and stood there in the middle of the room, dressed only in her chemise.
It would not be daylight for another few hours, but she was not so foolish as to travel the highways at night, alone and unprotected. Her journey would have to wait. She crossed the room and crawled up onto the window seat. There, wrapped in a blanket, she leaned her cheek against the sill, hugged her legs, and stared out across the night toward London, counting the hours until dawn.
By the time the eastern horizon began to glow, she was dressed in a smart green riding habit with breeches under her petticoats for riding astride, and heading for the stables.
And by the time the servants began to stir, she was on her way to London.
~~~~
Many miles away, the duke of Blackheath was also up.
He was an early riser, given to taking a three-mile walk across the downs before the servants even rose from their beds to start breakfast. Normally he found a long, hard bout of early morning exercise refreshing to his spirits, stimulating to his mind, a good foundation on which to lay the rest of his day. But as he crested Sparholt Down and stopped to gaze off across miles of valleys, downs, and pastureland, all going dark beneath approaching clouds, he felt anything but invigorated.
