Page 93 of His Stolen Duchess
“Georgina.”
“Staying at her sister’s house. I don’t know for how long, not that it matters. She can do as she pleases.”
“Is that your doing?” Thomas asked. “Did you drive her away?”
“No,” Lysander snorted. “Well, yes, in a way. It’s what is for the best.”
“Yes, because you are doing so well, old chap?”
Lysander dug his fingers into the tabletop. “Have you come here only to mock me? I thought you were supposed to be my friend.”
“I am your friend, Lysander. That’s why I can be so truthful with you. I saw how you were with her, and you’re a fool if you don’t admit that she’s the best thing to ever happen to you. If you did something to drive her away permanently, I will happily wring your neck. I’m ordering you to get her back. You have always been a good man, but she can make you a great man.”
“This is all for the best,” Lysander insisted.
“Fear walks hand in hand with loss, but so does love,” Thomas said. “One reminds you of what you had—the other, of what is possible. Don’t suffer loss because you fear loss, Lysander. I won’t let you do this to yourself.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Lysander held a hand to his head. It throbbed in the aftermath of another late, brandy-fueled night. It always seemed like a good idea at the time, but the mornings disagreed with that. He pushed the door open and stepped out into the light of the morning.
He walked through his townhouse garden, taking in lungfuls of fresh air.
When is she coming back? Is all of this to teach me some sort of lesson? I’ve already explained why it must be like this.
His words did nothing to convince the only person who could hear them: Himself.
Lysander stopped in the middle of the garden and looked at the folly. He had forgotten about the building until now and began walking over to it. Georgina’s departure had been sudden, and he didn’t know if she had taken the parrot with her. When hegot to the small building, he could hear nothing from within. Neither was the parrot on its perch.
“She did take you with her. Not long ago, I might have been glad, but your absence is presently a little unsettling.”
Lysander turned and walked away.
“Pox-ridden swine!”
Lysander spun around, his fists balled and ready to swing. He saw no one there and managed to put two and two together. He returned to the enclosure and thoroughly searched it this time. There he was. Mr. Squawksby was standing on the floor with one wing pressed to the inner wall.
“So, youarestill here. What a pair we make.”
The parrot looked up at him. “Codpiece fool!”
“I have killed men on the battlefield for less than that,” Lysander warned.
Still, he took a piece of candied fruit from the small bowl and tossed it into the cage. The parrot looked at the treat but didn’t move from his spot.
“She’ll be back soon,” Lysander said softly. “I’ll make sure of it.”
“Devil take your eyes!”
“So, that’s how it is, is it? And here I thought we were on better terms than that. Go on then, call me what you wish and sulk at the bottom of your cage. If you don’t want to eat the treats that I give you, then I shan’t give you anything more.”
Lysander turned from the cage and walked away. He was halfway back to the residence when Dottie exited, looking around. When she spotted the Duke, she hurried over.
Right before she got to him, Lysander was sure he heard one final call from the folly. “Best behavior!”
“Your Grace,” Dottie said, curtsying quickly. “I’m sorry to bother you. I know you’re a busy man, and I’m only a maid and all.”
“Spit it out, will you? I don’t have all day.”
