Page 82 of Her Tiger of a Duke
But, in spite of everything, he forced himself to remain optimistic. He knew there were only so many places that she could be, and he would go to each and every one until he found her. He would do whatever was necessary to bring her home again.
The first place he tried was her family’s home. The Jennings were home, and he was led into the parlor room while he waited for them. He did not want to see them, and he hoped that she had not decided to go there, for he had not liked them.
“Ah, good afternoon, Your Grace,” Lady Jennings greeted. “This is quite the surprise.”
“I do not plan to take up too much of your time. I was wondering if Beatrice was here.”
Her mother’s face told him in an instant that she did not know a thing about her disappearance, and his happiness about that quickly turned to apprehension, for her mother would undoubtedly wish to know why she was not home.
“She is not. Is she not with you?”
“She… she is not, no.”
“Oh, Heavens,” she gasped, slowly sitting down.
Lord Jennings appeared at that moment, causing his wife to become hysterical.
“Beatrice has disappeared!” she cried.
“Has she left you, then, Your Grace?”
“Not exactly,” he explained. “We exchanged words, and she left. I have come to bring her home.”
“I do not know why you are bothering to do so,” he chuckled. “I was pleased to see her gone, personally, and I will not blame you for feeling the same.”
Owen’s blood turned hot in an instant, and his instinct told him to turn and leave without another word, but he could not do it. He hated the smarmy look on her father’s face, and he wanted to remove it by any means necessary.
“Tell me, Lord Jennings. Why do you hate your daughter?”
The man turned pale at once.
“I do not know what you mean, Your Grace.”
“Yes, you do. You have been cruel the entire time I have known you. With the way you act, one would expect Beatrice to be a vicious young lady, a wanton or a bluestocking who did everything in her power to bring shame upon her family, but she has been nothing but an outstanding duchess. The village adores her, her staff would gladly do anything for her, and she puts you to shame not because she is disgraceful but because she is so lovely that people are left wondering how she could possibly have come from you.”
It all spilled out of him, but he did not regret a single word of it. He assumed that Lord Jennings had never once been spoken to that way and thought it was perhaps late it was better that he heard it at last than died a man that thought he was perfect.
“How dare you?” he asked. “You have come into my home, having lost my daughter, and you deem it acceptable to speak to me in such a manner?”
“I will talk to you as I please, given that you seem to speak of my wife that way. Looking at you, I can see why my wife is so scared, and why she runs away when faced with difficulty. If I thought that everyone was going to treat me the way you did, I would never have spoken at all. It is a miracle that she is even half of the brilliant woman I know her to be.”
“And why do you think she is that way?”
“Not because of you. I can tell you that with absolute certainty.”
Lord Jennings’ eyes narrowed, his lips curling.
“Get out,” he commanded.
“I will gladly leave, and I shall never set foot in this household again, nor will my wife.”
“No, if you ever find her.”
He left before he said anything he could not take back.
He took deep breaths once he was outside, trying in vain to steady himself. He had meant what he said; Beatrice would never see that man again, no matter what happened.
“What the hell do you think you are doing?”
