Except, she was not present. Her lovely face didn’t poke around the corner of the reception room or the dining room.
He went upstairs, going straight for the bedroom. Nelson was in there, straightening out the wardrobe as if it was a painful task.
“Come now,” he said to his valet, “it can’t be that bad. You are the one who manages it.”
Nelson didn’t respond to Mars’s teasing the way he usually did. No huffing and puffing. Instead, he appeared sad. “Yes, my lord.” It was a perfunctory answer. The valet returned to his task.
Mars glanced around the room again... and that was when he noticed how empty it was. The area by the washing bowl didn’t seem crowded. He stared at it and then realized why—Clarissa’s hairbrush was not there. He wondered where it was, although now, he was starting to have an inkling, one he didn’t like.
Mars left the bedroom. He walked down the hall to the library. If Clarissa was anywhere in this house, she would be here.
She wasn’t. No one sat in the chair by thelatest novels. She wasn’t poring over the bookshelves.
A letter had been placed in the middle of the desk, carefully folded and addressed to him.
He studied it a second, almost afraid to move forward. He forced himself to move, sitting in the chair and picking up the letter. He unfolded it.
Funny, he had not seen his wife’s handwriting other than her signature. She had an almost mannish style in its lack of flourishes.
She was very direct in her commentary.
My lord, I thought I could make the best of our marriage of convenience. Unfortunately, I was wrong. I’m not good at pretending all is well when it isn’t. I shall await your return at Belvoir where we can sort this out. I do believe the separation will do us good.
There was no complimentary closing such as “sincerely yours.” Certainly no, “your loving wife.” No title after she wrote her name,Clarissa.
Damn, he could have written this letter.
Lowton always complained that Mars was too abrupt in his comments. The secretary would be horrified at this missive.
Mars was, too. Because she’d made her point clear.
She’d left him. She’d said last night she would.
A knock on the door startled him. Dalton was there. Mars covered the letter with his arm. Of course, the servants had known she’dleft. If he hadn’t been congratulating himself, he would have noticed the signs immediately. Instead, he’d been confident that his wife was tucked away here where he’d left her. He had expected that she would give him a pat on the back and then he would declare his love and all would be well.
Unfortunately, Clarissa wasn’t that simple. She wasn’t a fool either.
“You have a visitor, my lord.”
Mars looked up at the door. He was not in the mood for visitors. He would have said so except Dalton came into the room without invitation and silently offered the card on the silver salver he carried. Mars lifted it. There was one word on it.
Dervil.
He flicked the card back onto the salver. “I am not at home—”
“I feared you would say that,” Dervil’s voice came from the doorway. He stepped forward, holding his hat in his hand. “Don’t have a tiff with your butler. He told me to stay downstairs but I knew you would answer as you did. We need to talk.”
“I have nothing to say.”
“That may be true,” Dervil said. “However, you are the one who left me alive.”
“Obviously a mistake.”
“Then let me rephrase.Imust talk to you.”
“I’m not interested.”
In response, Dervil walked right in and took the chair closest to the desk. He looked to Dalton, “Please close the door and give us some privacy.”
