No, it cannot be.
Ethan dropped his feet from the chair and sat up. “No. You must be mistaken. She is to leave tomorrow. Regardless, did you see her depart yourself? Because I truly doubt any carriage driver worth his salt would be willing to ride in this weather—Hell, it’s bloody storming and it has been for the past two hours,” Ethan waved at himself, indicating his untidy state of dress after catching the storm during the latter end of his journey back.
“I personally made sure to leave the correspondence at the desk in your study, Your Grace. And I saw her depart myself. She was quite adamant about leaving, I even helped carry her portmanteau over to the carriage.”
“What correspondence? What are you—” Ethan got to his feet and drew in a shaky breath, raking his fingers through his damp hair, messing it away. “And you let her go? You allowed her to leave Penrose in this weather?”
“Apologies, Your Grace. At the time, it was not so bad—”
“No, you listen,” Ethan raised his hand, approaching the butler with ferocity. But before he could reach him,seriousquestions began infesting his mind. Why was she so willing to leave? Did she truly wish to get away from him so badly? A pit of emptiness grew in his stomach at the thought. “Why–no, where—okay, explain it to me slowly from the start.”
Stanley cleared his throat, maintained his composure, and straightened his back. “A letter arrived last evening, informing His Grace that the renovations of the Wiltonshire estate had finished and a carriage would be following. The Duchess did not wish to delay any further and believed you were already aware of that fact.”
“What in the devil?” Ethan roared, and then his mind drew back to last night at the correspondence sitting on his desk.“Aware? I had hardly broken the wax seal before I was pulled out to visit Hartley’s!”
Without uttering another word, he thrashed open the door of the library and stepped into the hallway with bolting speed. He felt almost desperate and helpless and there was a tremor in his hands he couldn’t control as he rushed to reach Meredith’s chamber, clinging to the last bit of hope that perhaps she had returned upon seeing the aggravating weather conditions.
Stanley must be mistaken. She would not leave so soon, would she?
“Your Grace,” Stanley began, but Ethan paid him little mind. A young footman, slender but with a tall frame, fell in line with the two of them and exchanged a few words with the butler, but Ethan’s sole focus was reaching Meredith’s chamber.
He flung the door open at once and was instantly enveloped in Meredith’s familiar fragrance; a soothing balm that usually calmed him, but now only served to stoke the fires of his panic once he realized she was not there. Her possessions, which were so often kept neatly tucked away in the corner of her bedchamber, were no longer present as well. Everything about her, except for her scent, had vanished!
He slammed the door, backed away, and hastened down the castle stairs, the footman and the butler trailing behind him.
“Your Grace, please,” Stanley said as he remained on his master’s heel.
Ethan reached the entrance of the castle, without bothering with his coat. “Have a steed prepared for me immediately. No questions. Tell Dale it is urgent. One with sharp sight and serious mettle,” he commanded a servant there who quickly nodded and hurried for the stables.
“Your Grace! If you will just listen, I—”
“I have done enough listening,” Ethan began, clenching his fists. “All of you, every single one of you are going to be held responsible if anything happens to her. Allowing her to leave in this weather! And you all stood by and did nothing!”
Stanley snapped his mouth shut, as if uncertain of what to say.
Ethan didn’t blame him—he knew the poor man was not responsible, he knew none of them were. If someone was to blame, it would be himself entirely, but his rage flowed so menacingly through his veins and his chest tightened so much, it was becoming hard to think straight or even breathe.
“Please, Your Grace,” the footman began. “Something important has come up.” Ethan spent a lot of willpower to control himself from interrupting those words. What could possibly be more important at a time like this?
The footman held an envelope in his hands and handed it to him. “I was informed by a courier that I urgently needed to deliver this to you,” he paused as Ethan grasped the letter from him and held it straight. “Something about a Lord Francis and a gaming hell being in danger.”
Ethan’s mind grew heavy at the words as he broke the wax seal and tore apart the envelope. Instantly, he began scanning it from the midway point.
…appears that Lord Francis has come up with a larger sum of £50,000 and is willing to pay it in its entirety over the following week. Should you match the sum, I shall close the negotiations and allow you to purchase it outright due to the loyalty you have shown to the establishment over the past…
Ethan’s gaze slipped from the letter. Everything he had been tirelessly working towards for as long as he could remember was threatening to disappear right before his eyes. He clenched his jaw to stop himself from cursing the assembling staff around him that had nothing to do with any of this.
“The horse is saddled, Your Grace,” a voice rang loudly in his ears and he nodded once in wide-eyed silence.
Then, without uttering another word, he rushed out of the castle, confident in the choice he had just made.
CHAPTER14
Meredith nervously clenched and unclenched her hands in her lap, ruffling her skirts in the process. She didn’t know how much longer the journey would last or whether she could bear to spend another moment lost in her thoughts.
“He didn’t say goodbye,” she whispered to herself, a lump forming in her throat. “He didn’t even have the courage to face me one last time.”
She sighed, leaning her head against the velvet-lined backrest. She missed him. There was no denying that, nor could she deny the depth of her feelings for him; feelings of which he was blissfully unaware and would never reciprocate. A small part of her clung to the hope that he would come to regret his actions, that perhaps he would visit her someday, if only to make amends. But her rational side knew better. The side that was time and time again correct. It was over.
