Page 97 of The Duke's Unclaimed Bride
“Sorry!” the driver called back, but Laurence was too stunned to speak.
How is it that this woman has permeated my life so completely that a bump in the road reminds me of her?
He swallowed hard, not realizing that his cheeks were damp. Sitting back again, he finally noticed how his body was reacting. His chest was tight, his breathing was shallow, and his hands were shaking. He wiped his face.
This is ridiculous. I’m crying over a bump.
But it had never been just a bump.
As the driver took him around Hyde Park, he could hear people walking in the rain. A child laughed. A mother scolded her daughter for getting wet. A father grabbed his wife and child to run indoors with them.
He was meant to be reading, and yet he couldn’t help but miss that chaos. His heart longed to be one of those parents with a child in the rain. To wrap his arm around his wife and usher her inside.
“Take me home,” he called out to the driver.
“We’ve barely left, Your Grace.”
“I said, take me home!” Laurence snapped. He grimaced as he realized his mistake. “I’m…”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the driver called back.
Laurence dropped his head in his hands. This was getting out of control.
He needed to go home. He needed peace and quiet. And a large glass of brandy.
Maybe two.
No, definitely two.
The driver brought him back swiftly. Laurence ignored the confused looks of the servants and pulled off his sodden boots before pulling on his house slippers. He trudged up to his chambers and threw himself onto the bed.
He could hear the servants coming in and awkwardly unpacking around him. He didn’t even look up.
He spent the next day in a haze. Once again, he found himself sitting in his study, looking at the ledgers while it rained outside. Once again, he found himself unable to write. The letters swirled on the page before combining into a puddle of ink. He would blink to refocus. The letters would retreat and then shift.
“You should rest.”Edith’s voice echoed in his mind.
I feel like I’ve done nothing but rest.
“What you’ve been doing doesn’t appear very restful.”
He groaned and leaned back in his chair. “I am losing my mind,” he muttered.
Before he could sink further into his thoughts, a sharp knock at the front door caught his attention. He sat there, hoping that if everyone ignored it, the person would grow tired and leave.
The continued banging on the door swiftly proved him wrong.
He heard the front door click open. A muffled exchange between the person and a maid drifted to his ears. He couldn’t make out the words, but he could hear James’s laughter. It grated on his nerves.
A few moments later, the maid knocked on the study door.
“Your Grace,” she said. “Lord Mallowby is here.”
“I see,” he said, rising from his desk.
“Should I send him away?”
“No,” he sighed. “I’ll do it myself.”
