“Now you are making fun of me,” she muttered, crossing away from Adam to sit on her window seat.
Disappointment and frustration surged within her. She’d had her heart set on going to Newcastle and not just to retrieve Linus. Persephone had never been to Newcastle and was curious to see the town.
“You really wish to leave, then?” Tension sat thick in Adam’s voice.
“I do, yes.” She watched his reflection in the window.
His face hardened in the next moment, something flashing in his eyes that made her instantly nervous. “Go, then,” he snapped. Suddenly he was the Adam she’d met on her wedding day: distant, intimidating, unfriendly. “Go wherever you bloody well want to. I don’t care.”
The connecting door slammed behind him, rattling the windows and Persephone’s nerves.
What had just happened? The Adam she’d been so afraid of losing her heart to had disappeared in an instant. She’d gone from feeling content, if not happy, to feeling very much alone.
* * *
Perhaps Harry had been right. He had flatly refused to accompany Adam on his morning ride. “In all this fog?” Harry had asked incredulously. “A man’s likely to run directly into a tree and not even realize it.”
But Adam had needed to get out, to escape the castle. Mostly, he admitted with frustration, to avoid Persephone.
She wanted to leave Falstone—she’d said so the night before. A brief journey, to be sure, but that was how it always began. A day away here and there, then a week, then a month. Eventually she simply wouldn’t come back.
He told himself he didn’t care, which was, of course, a blatant lie. He’d toldherhe didn’t care, which meant he’d lied to Persephone—something he’d promised never to do.
It was no wonder she was ready to “jump ship,” as Harry would have said.
He could learn to live without Persephone. Father had gone on without Mother. He’d been miserable, but he’d gone on. And Adam had long ago reached the point where he no longer needed anyone. Only since Persephone’s arrival had that begun to change. Well, he’d changed once; he would simply change back.
The Duke of Kielder was an island, beholden to no one, dependent on no one. He simply had to convince himself of that.
The air swiftly grew almost too cold to breathe. The fog turned thicker with each passing moment. It was time to return to Falstone. Adam turned Zeus toward home.
“I can be indifferent,” he told himself. He had been for twenty years. It wouldn’t be impossible. Then Persephone could make whatever journeys and trips she chose, and he would do what he’d done in Mother’s absence all those years ago. He would ride the estate, manage his finances.
It would be fine.
“Fiends, it’s getting cold,” Adam muttered.
As if to prove his assertion, Zeus shuddered. Beneath his hooves a frozen layer of snow crackled and broke. Yes, maybe Harry had been right.
Somewhere in the distance a howl sounded, only slightly muffled by the thickening fog. It was an eerie sound, almost like a warning.
“Go on, Zeus.” But the horse didn’t appear to be listening.
Smaller footsteps, like a fox or dog, broke the silence. Zeus skittered nervously. The sounds, the feelings of the moment were horrifyingly familiar, though Adam knew he’d never before taken a ride through fog so thick.
A chorus of growls echoed around him.
It was the pack. Hayworth had said they were hunting nearer the castle than usual. Adam’s hand went automatically to the pistol in his greatcoat pocket. He had no plans to use it, but if worse came to worst, he would be prepared.
A series of long, bone-chilling howls had Zeus dancing beneath him. “Steady, boy.” Adam urged him on.
He heard other hooves nearby, perhaps approaching. The fog made sounds bounce unnaturally and made seeing further than a few yards almost impossible. He kept his hand at his pocket, waiting, anticipating.
“Yer Grace!” a voice bellowed, as if calling out in search of someone.
Had someone come looking for him?
“Yer Grace?” the same person repeated.
