Page 49 of Her Devil of a Duke
“Christ. How bad is it?” Rafe asked, calling back to Stede who stopped beside him, panting to catch his breath. “How bad?” Stede looked sharply at him, clearly surprised to see him in such a state.
“Watkins saw it all happen from the outside. He ran in, claiming the entire other side of the wing had fallen in with the roof, Your Grace.”
The other side? The safe side? The side I had allowed Evie to visit?
“Other side? Did you not claim to me on my first day back that the other side was safe and had little work needed in the renovations?”
Stede dropped his gaze, and it must have been the first time Rafe saw a hint of humility in the butler. “Ah, yes, most apologies, Your Grace.”
A jolt of rage boiled through his veins and Rafe didn’t wait to hear anymore. He raced to the staircase and hurried down, taking the steps two at a time. In his haste, he nearly slipped at the bottom of the staircase but narrowly managed to stay standing.
He reached for the front door and burst out.
His breath felt stolen from his lungs as he looked around, realizing there was still some snow on the ground. At least it had started to melt in places and the snow no longer fell from the sky. But traces of footsteps ingrained in the snow from Evie’s previous excursion to that side of the wing conjured a pit in his stomach.
Breathing heavily, Rafe faced his fear. If he’d just lost another woman he loved from his life, he could damn well face the pain of walking through the snow again.
He sprinted around the building, deciding he would spend as little time here as possible. He stopped shortly before reaching the other door, for there was no door left.
It had fallen forward and was masked by rubble. Where there should have been an upper floor, there was now just open air. Dust still spiraled about the debris, showing how recently the cave-in had been.
Rafe raised his hands and covered his mouth, realizing with horror that the worst of the collapse had been exactly where Evie had gone inside the building when he had sent her for dresses. To think that she could have been in there when the building imploded made everything worse.
I am bad news for her. I always have been.
Rafe walked toward the rubble, hating himself more and more as he clambered over the fallen stones. He ended up on his knees amongst the wreckage, staring at the mess and demolition.
He’d ruined Evie’s virtue, hurt her with his lies, and for what? For his own selfishness to be with her, when she clearly wished to be with another.She wants Mr. Windham.To think he could have been the cause of pain for her too, even… her death, made him nauseous.
He had stood by as one woman he loved had died, now he had brought another close to the same fate.
“She’s better off without me,” Rafe muttered. He scrambled to his feet and clambered across the rubble again. He reached around about the point where he knew his former lover’s portrait should have been. He scrambled to find it, but his hands were frozen from the icy weather, and he struggled to move the rocks at all.
“Your Grace? Your Grace!” Stede’s voice called out to him, but Rafe gave no sign of hearing the butler.
His search for the portrait slowly grew into a maniacal frenzy. He was growing desperate to find any sign that a glimmer of her was still here.
“If the rubble shifts, you could hurt yourself. Your Grace, please come out of there,” Stede continued to shout from the edge of the garden. “I am begging you. Please!”
“Begging the duke, eh?” Rafe laughed at the notion. The mere idea that Stede could care whether he lived or died was laughable. “Worry not, Stede. If I fall and break my neck, you can rest assured you’ll get a better duke than me next.”
Stede said nothing. The momentary silence made Rafe lift his head. He saw Stede’s expression. It was one of guilt as he fidgeted, his hands wringing together.
Rafe returned to the debris, pulling at the stones. His palms were grazed now, his fingers struggling to move more and more in the cold.
“Please, Your Grace,” Stede called again, his voice quieter now. “It is dangerously cold out here. Come inside and warm yourself by the fire.”
“You’re a good butler, Stede. Never told you that, have I?” Rafe yelled out over the sounds of cluttering debris. He tossed one of the bricks to the side, listening as it cracked loudly against another. “Yet I am not a decent duke. I shall stay here on my knees, defying your expectations, until I find what I am looking for!”
He had to find her portrait. He had to! She was still here somewhere, some semblance of her, he just had to look hard enough.
“Your Grace, whatever it is you are looking for, I fear it is gone.” Stede began crawling carefully across the rubble. That shocked Rafe more than anything else, that his uptight butler would risk injuring himself by doing such a thing. “Anything under here could not survive such a crash. It is destroyed.”
“No! Don’t say that. It cannot be gone.” Rafe raised a hand, urging Stede to stay back as he lifted another giant brick. This one was so heavy that he struggled, his arms straining, his muscles twinging in pain. He dropped it to his side, and it rolled away.
His body gave up. He capitulated back down on his haunches to the rubble as Stede reached his side. Stede took his shoulder, holding him still.
“I am sorry, Your Grace. Truly, I am,” Stede said, his voice strangely quiet. “I can arrange to have workmen here to dig out this mess, but I beg you, do not risk your own skin anymore by searching for what is already lost.”
