“Yes, Your Grace. Miss Dawson has also sent instructions to send her belongings to London.”
The butler needed not say anything more. It was clear to Benedict that Anastasia had no intention of returning to Frostmore.
In that moment of realization, the world tilted. Everything else felt unimportant. Meaningless.
The duchy’s finances. The account books. Even the business at the House of Lords. His list.
For the past few days, he focused on them only because he thought he would find a way to corner her and fix his mistakes. He had thought of writing everything in a letter, but decided that would not be enough. She needed to hear his voice to know he meant every word.In the end, he was merely buying time with routine.
Now, it was too late. Anastasia had decided to escape from Frostmore. From him. An unfamiliar panic came over him. He rose from his chair so quickly that it clattered to the floor. The butler barely flinched. He was trained to keep his composure, but his master had already lost his.
“Summon the fastest carriage. I will also need travel clothes. I am leaving for London at once.”
“Your Grace. You have meetings and documents to attend to,” the butler protested.
“I do not care about any of them; cancel them all,” Benedict growled, sounding so much like the opposite of what he always portrayed himself to be.
As he pressed both palms on his desk, his eyes scanned his list. The list should have been a guide to his life, but it had only reminded him of what he was missing.
Secure a suitable marriage to a woman of rank and reason.
Benedict now knew how terribly dull it could be. He did not want that after all. With Anastasia, he realized he wanted searing passion and sharp wit. He realized that he wanted some chaos in his life that night at the pond.
He grabbed his list and crumpled it. Then, he threw the ball of vellum into the fireplace.
“I have been a fool for too long,” he muttered.
Soon, he was sporting a coat and about to enter his carriage. Nobody could stop him now. He was no longer the disciplined Duke of Frostmore, with long lists and rigid structure. He was merely a man desperate to see if he could win back the woman who had melted the ice in his heart.
The carriage rattled relentlessly into the night. He could not rest inside, not with Anastasia’s green eyes flashing in his mind. She looked both hurt and defiant. He had to find her. He had to tell her that she was the only thing that mattered to him. Not the list. No, not anymore.
Where would she be? He could think of her sister’s house or even the possibility of seeing her at a ball. Perhaps she was planning to bravely put herself back into the marriage market, or at least have a pleasant evening.
When he arrived in London, he was exhausted and filthy. He had no choice but to get some rest first. He learned that Miss Serenity’s wedding had just been celebrated about two days ago, and that it was a quiet affair. Some of the implications of a small, intimate wedding came over him. He had immediately begun his frantic search.
A member of the House of Lords, who had extensive social connections, had managed to give him a clue.
“The Viscountess of Wilkins is attending the Earl of Elton’s ball tomorrow night. She will be accompanied by her only remaining unmarried daughter, a stunning woman, from what I have heard.”
Benedict knew who that would be. Who else could be the viscountess’s stunning daughter but the very woman who hadpulled him out of hiding?
“Would that be Miss Anastasia Dawson?” he asked anyway.
“Yes, that would be her. Didn’t she stay with you for some time?” the other man asked, openly curious.
“Yes, she did,” Cassian replied, entering the room.
Both relief and annoyance filled Benedict. Cassian would probably find more news about Anastasia, but he would have to deal with his reproaches and teasing.
“Frostmore here has been trying to get her married,” the Duke of Stonevale continued.
“Ah. So, he wanted to see if he would be more successful here in London?”
“Yes, Lord Armandale. We need to get her out more often, though. I heard that she is often either at her mother’s house or out with the dowager.”
“Where do you think she will be tomorrow?” Benedict wanted to know, and he could not even hide his excitement from Armandale.
Thankfully, the portly member of the House of Lords was not that focused on what was being exchanged.
