His questions were met with silence from his audience. Garrity and Kent had accompanied him back from the office and sat stony-faced in wingchairs. Richard, Violet, and Mama had returned home minutes earlier and shared the settee. Wick’s brother and sister-in-law looked worried; his mama calmly sipped a cup of tea.
“You’re certain she didn’t leave a note telling you where she’d gone?” Violet asked.
Wick shook his head in frustration. “There’s no note, no message, nothing. And I questioned the staff. No one saw her leave; their best guess is that she departed around luncheon. The guards discovered her missing an hour later.”
Why would you do this, angel? Why would you leave me?
Cold emptiness spread inside him as he faced the inevitable answer. She’d left because he’d failed her. Because he’d broken his promise to her and brought public scandal down on her head. Because he’d failed to protect the only woman he’d ever loved.
“Why is everyone surprised at Lady Beatrice’s behavior?” Mama set her cup into the saucer with a delicate click. “You’ve all read the papers, I assume. Given what they’re saying about her, would it be a surprise if she decided to leave Town? She has been utterly disgraced. If it were me, I’d never want to show my face again in London.”
At his mama’s conjecture, Wick balled his hands.This is my fault. I did this to Beatrice, subjected her to pain.
“Have a care, Mama,” Richard said in a cautioning tone.
“I am only speaking the truth.” With a sniff, Mama put her cup on the table. “If you ask me, Lady Beatrice has done the right thing. Better to end things cleanly. You must respect her wishes, Wickham, and let her go.”
Wick felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. Had Beatrice ended things with him? Was her departure a permanent goodbye?
To hell with that.He pinned his mama with a burning stare.
“I love Beatrice. I willneverlet her go,” he grated out. “Not without a fight.”
“She’s not worth the trouble, dearest. Indeed, my friend Lady Osmond was mentioning that her lovely niece just arrived from France—”
“All right, Mama. Let’s go join the boys for tea.” This came from Vi, who unceremoniously tugged the dowager up from the settee and toward the door.
“But I am not finished,” Mama protested.
“You will be if you don’t leave Wick alone,” Violet said under her breath.
Obviously, his sister-in-law read him well.
With the ladies gone, Richard said briskly, “What is the plan?”
“I have guards out.” Wick tried to organize his chaotic thoughts. “They, along with Garrity and Kent’s men, are canvassing the area to see if anyone saw Beatrice leave and what direction she might have gone.”
“Could she have gone back to her estate?” his brother asked.
He expelled a breath. “I’ve sent riders to check the coaching inns on the route to Staffordshire. If they find her, they’ll send word. But my gut tells me something’s off. While it’s true she wanted to return home when she learned about Frank Varnum and the stories about her in the papers likely enhanced that desire, I know her…know that she wouldn’t want me to worry. She’d leave a note, something, to tell me where she’d gone.”
As he spoke, he felt a growing certainty. Heknewhis lass. Knew that she was responsible and caring, not the sort of woman who’d leave him or end their engagement without an explanation, no matter what he’d done. Then what could explain her abrupt flight with her maid?
The ringing of the doorbell spurred a sudden wild hope in his heart. Devil and damn, maybe Bea had just stepped out for a moment. Maybe this was some stupid misunderstanding…
He ran from the drawing room. Halted in the antechamber.
The newcomer his butler had ushered in was a man he knew by sight and reputation. Even without a formal introduction, he could guess who this tall, aristocratic stranger was by his physical resemblance to Beatrice. The Duke of Hadleigh had a darker, masculine version of the Wodehouse looks—and a haughty manner to go with it.
“Where is my sister?” Hadleigh said without preamble. “I wish to speak with her this instant.”
“She’s not here.” Aware of the pain Hadleigh had inflicted on Beatrice, it took all of Wick’s willpower to bridle his temper and extend a hand to his beloved’s kin. “I am Wickham Murray.”
“I know who you are.” The duke’s midnight blue gaze slid contemptuously over him. “The papers have detailed your relationship with my sister quite clearly, and I will deal with you later—after I’ve spoken with Beatrice.”
“As I’ve said, she is not here,” Wick said curtly.
“Where the devil is she then?”
