That is when the full weight of what he’d done to Clarissa fell heavily upon him. She’d trusted him, and he had pushed her aside.
Without a word to his mother, Mars walked to the door and entered the ballroom ready to search for his wife. Unfortunately, he had miscalculated the interest in his affairs that he had created.
He’d not taken three steps into the room when he sensed a pause in conversations, conspicuous looks in his direction, and frowns of disapproval. Many behaved as if they had been waiting for him. Waiting to glare at him, to sneer, to follow him with their whispers.
His mother came up behind him. “Excuse me,” she said as if they were strangers and made her way through the crowd. She received commiserating looks and much empathy. He watched her touch an arm here, exchange a worried glance there. She was a brilliant actress.
However, these people failed to understand that Mars didn’t care what their opinions of him were.
The only person he answered to was Clarissa.
He charged forward. People moved out of his way. He could feel their stares as he passed.
Although he was accustomed to doing as he wished, this was different. He quite definitely felt on the outside and that made him want to find Clarissa all the more. She would put her hand on his arm and he wouldn’t care what people said, what they thought.
He found a vantage point on a step and looked around the room, using his height to help him search for honey-gold hair amongst the guests. He didn’t see her. He started for the card room. She was not there. He lingered outside the ladies’ necessary room until he was certain she wasn’t hiding from him. She might have been angrier than he thought. He opened a few closed doors up and down the hall. He couldn’t find her.
Mars stood a moment flummoxed and then wondered if she could have left? Without saying anything to him?
He went out the front door, waving away an offer to fetch his hat. A footman was standing on the bottom step, signaling to coaches when their owners were ready. He saw Mars and bowed.
“Shall I signal for your driver, my lord?”
“Actually, I wonder if you have seen a petite woman with golden hair and big green eyes. She’s wearing an emerald colored dress. She is a beauty.”
“Lady Marsden.”
“Right. Have you seen her?”
“Ah, yes, my lord. She took your vehicle. She said to tell you she will send the driver back shortly.”
Shehadleft.
Mars was stunned. “Yes, that is right. I remembered she needed to leave early,” he said, as if the footman required an explanation... because otherwise, Mars felt like a fool not knowing where his wife was.
A little over a week ago he hadn’t wanted a wife but now that he had one, he expected to know where she was.
He came to a decision. Balfour did not live far from here and the duel was only hours away. “When my driver returns, tell him I decided to walk. It is a good night for some exercise.” He passed the man a coin, retrieved his hat from a footman inside, and made his way to Balfour’s.
The physical act of walking cleared his head and settled his resolve. He had come to London to kill Dervil, and so he would.
After several loud knocks on Balfour’s door, a footman answered. Apparently the whole household was abed. Mars didn’t understand why. It wasn’t even midnight yet.
Nor was Balfour pleased to be woken. He was even less happy when he learned the nature of Mars’s call. Still, he was a good friend and agreed to act as a second.
“You need to contact Lord Roberts. He is waiting for word from you,” Mars said.
“Didn’t you just leave him at the Harrison rout?”
“I did.”
“Then I doubt if he will be home.”
“Send a message and we can flesh out all of the details when we meet at Primrose Hill in the morning,” Mars responded. He wasn’t interested in the formalities. He was going to shoot Dervil, that was where his interest lay.
“Wait, did you just say ‘in the morning’?”
“I did. Half past six. You need to wake up.”
