“Not at present. Please see that the Duchess and I aren’t disturbed this morning. I have estate matters to review, and she mentioned wanting to write letters.”
Letters to inquire about orphanages in London, no doubt. Always thinking of those children. He allowed for a brief sense of pride to swell in his chest before he dampened it.
This only proves she is a formidable and well-chosen Duchess.
Mrs. Crawford curtsied and took her leave, closing the door with the soft click that indicated Hugo was not to be interrupted except in cases of genuine emergency.
Finally, blessed silence.
He spread the estate ledgers across his desk, noting with satisfaction that the accounts were precisely balanced, the tenant reports uniformly positive.
This was his domain, his responsibility, his legacy.
Here, surrounded by the accumulated wisdom of generations of Rothburns, he could think clearly about the future he was building—not just for himself but for his daughters and perhaps for the woman who was now his wife.
The morning sun streamed through the tall windows, casting golden rectangles across the Persian carpet. Outside, he could hear the distant sounds of estate life—gardeners tending the grounds, grooms exercising the horses, the comfortable rhythm of a world functioning exactly as it should.
Peace.
The thought had barely formed when his study door burst open with enough force to rattle the crystal decanter on his sideboard.
“Where are they?”
Sybil stood in the doorway like a woman possessed, her traveling dress wrinkled from their journey, wisps of auburn hair escaping her pins. Her pale blue eyes blazed with an intensity that made his chest tighten in ways he refused to examine.
Ah. I wondered when this would happen.
Hugo set down his pen with deliberate calm, not bothering to look up from the accounts. “Good morning, wife. I trust you slept well?”
“Don’t.” Her voice cracked like a whip. “Don’t you dare pretend you don’t know why I’m here.”
“Perhaps you could enlighten me,” he said mildly, finally raising his amber eyes to meet her furious gaze.
“The girls, Hugo. Where are my girls?”
My girls.The possessive claim sent an unwelcome thrill through him though he kept his expression neutral.
“They’re perfectly safe,” he replied.
“Safe where?” She stepped into the room, her hands clenched at her sides. “I’ve searched this entire house. Every room, every corridor, even the servants’ quarters. They’re nowhere to be found.”
“That’s because they’re not here.”
The color drained from her face. “Not here.”
“No.”
“You promised me they would be cared for.” Her voice rose with each word. “You gave me your word that they would be safe, that they would be provided for?—”
“And they are.”
“Then where are they?” She took another step closer, close enough that he could see the gold flecks in her angry eyes. “What have you done with them?”
Hugo rose from his chair, noting how she tensed as he moved around the desk. “I’ve ensured they have everything they need.”
“That’s not an answer.” Her chin lifted defiantly. “You’re evading the question which means you’ve done something you know I won’t approve of.”
“Have I?”
