Good. Thalia would do her best to shield the girl as best as possible.
“Anna,” she said frantically to her friend. “Will you look after Lydia?”
“Of course,” Anna said without hesitation. “As long as you need. You know that.”
“I must go after him.”
“I want to come too,” Lydia said.
“No,” Anna and Thalia said at once.
“You must stay here and not let anyone know of the situation,” Thalia said, doing her best to remain calm even though that crawling feeling of dread was spreading through her body.
Surely, he would not do the same as Christopher. Surely, he would not hurt himself—or them—that much. He had so many people who relied on him, who loved him.
Even if he didn’t love her, surely, she meantsomethingto him. Was that not reason enough?
“This is between them,” Anna said to Lydia, offering the scared girl a smile. “Let them resolve it. And besides, do you not have plenty of events to attend? This is such a crucial time in the Season; you wouldn’t want to miss anything.”
“Maxwell is more important than a Season.”
Thalia crossed to Lydia and took the younger girl’s hand in hers. “And I’ll be going to him. You’ll have nothing to worry about, Ipromise. I’ll look after him, and…” She couldn’t bring herself to say that she would bring him back with her. After all, she didn’t know that she could promise that. “I’ll find him,” she said.
“I’ll send for a carriage,” Simon said, disappearing from the room.
Anna embraced Thalia. “He loves you,” she said under her breath. “Simon is certain of it—there is no other reason he would be behaving in such a way.”
Thalia clung to the hope, fragile as it was. “I will confront him when I find him.” If she could. “Thank you for everything.”
“Go. Pack.” Anna gave Thalia’s shoulders a gentle push. “We will handle everything from here.”
Thalia needed no more encouragement.
The journey felt as though it took forever. For the entire duration, Thalia stared at the window and tried not to vomit. Worry ate her alive, and she felt as though she had lived several lifetimes by the time they finally arrived outside Marrowhurst Hall.
The moment the door was open, she burst from the carriage and into the house, past the startled butler, who looked as though she might have been a ghost.
“Maxwell!” she called, running from room to room.
All empty. No signs of anyone being here, although he must have been in the house for an entire day by now. Panic seized her lungs, and she paused, one hand braced against the doorway. Behind her eyelids, all she could see was images of Maxwell throwing himself from a clifftop.
If the house felt as though it was empty, then perhaps it was.
He wasn’t even in the bedchamber they had shared together. The stale air didn’t smell like him.
She pressed a hand to her stomach, alarmed by the way it cramped.
The butler appeared in the doorway. “Excuse me, Your Grace. Are you searching for His Grace?”
“Yes.” She cleared her throat, dashing a hand across her eyes. “Where is he? Is he in the house?”
“He’s in the schoolroom, Your Grace.” The butler hesitated. “That is to say, the studio.”
Thestudio. She hadn’t even thought of looking there.
Pushing past the butler, she ran along the hallway until she came to the studio. The door was shut, and when she tried the handle,it jiggled helplessly. Fear wrenched through her, and she tapped on the door, listening for any sounds within.
“Maxwell? Are you in there?” She closed her eyes, her pounding heart shaking her body. “It’s me, Thalia. I came when I heard… Why did you come here?” Her voice cracked, and she sucked in a deep breath. “Why have you been fighting? Please open the door. Just open it.”
