“Tell His Grace he can go to hell and that I dunnae want to set eyes on him again.”
Chapter 36
Fi!” Edward took the stairs to the guest wing two at a time. “Fiona!”
When the judge had announced her freedom, eighteen hours of blind panic had subsided. Suddenly free of the image of her swinging from the gallows, his brain had begun to process thought again, and the realization of how much of an arse he’d been crept in.
Why had he told her he didn’t want towantto marry her, as though marrying her was anything other than a privilege?
Why had he said she’d ruined the family name when adding an intelligent, kind, hardworking woman to it could only be an improvement?
Why had he said such cruel things? Her rejection of him did not justify such words.
When he reached Fiona’s room, the door was already open. Inside, two maids were packing up her things.
“Where is Fiona? Where is my wife?”
The maids shared a nervous glance. Edward waited in silence, arms crossed, letting his displeasure show, until one of them was forced to speak. “She left a half hour ago, Your Grace. Took the mail coach back to Abingdale. We’re to pack up her things and send them after her.”
Edward thumped his fist on the doorframe. “The mail coach? On her own?” Sure, she had traveled from Scotland to Abingdale by herself. She was a supremely capable woman. But just because shecoulddidn’t mean sheshould. She need not do things on her own anymore.
“She had young Andrew with her, Your Grace.”
That was something, at least. Not much—the boy could hardly be relied upon should a band of highwaymen attack, but at least she wasn’t alone.
“Did she say if she was coming back?”
The maid grimaced. “I don’t believe she intends to, Your Grace.”
Blast. She wasn’t even going to give him a chance to apologize. Maybe he could catch her. There was only one main road running in that direction. If he took his horse rather than the coach, he could probably reach her before she left London.
He ran to the family quarters, ignoring the startled looks of his footmen as he thundered past them. He could spare five minutes to change into attire more suitable for hard riding. Only the buzz of activity around Charlotte’s room gave him pause. He slowed to a walk and then ducked his head into his sister’s room.
A dozen maids were in the process of packing up trunks. Charlotte’s clothes were strewn around the room, and she was going from dress to dress identifying which ones were to be packed away for storage and which ones were to go with her.
His heart sank. “What are you doing?” he asked, apprehensive of the answer.
“Getting away fromyou.” The words, the loathing in her tone, were like a knife to his chest. First his brother, then his wife, and now his sister.
How did it all turn so bad so quickly?He entered the room and took his sister’s hands. She narrowed her eyes but didn’t pull away.
“Don’t leave,” he begged, not caring at the growing number of staff watching his display. “Stay. Even if it’s just to yell at me daily. Stay, so I can fix this bloody mess I’ve made. Please, stay.”
Her eyes narrowed further, and she pursed her lips. “I do want to yell at you,” she said eventually.
The muscles in his chest loosened a fraction. “Then give me a few hours. I need to stop Fiona from leaving. Then I’ll be back, and you can yell at me for as long as you like.”
She rolled her eyes. “You arrogant, block-headed fool. You’re going to go ‘stop Fiona from leaving’? Great idea,” she said sarcastically, throwing her hands up. “Because your high-handedness, your insistence on controlling everyone else isn’t what got you into this problemat all. Pffft. Men.” She indicated her maid to start unpacking the trunks and grabbed an armful of dresses from her bed to take to her dressing room.
He collapsed onto the edge of her bed, the mad rush of the past few hours wearing off and leaving nothing but exhaustion. “You don’t think I should go after her?”
She turned to face him, head tilted, a slightly patronizing expression on her face. “I think you might have been able to force her to marry you, but if you try to force her to love you then she will be miserable for the rest of her days.”
“So you don’t think I should go?” he asked, hoping her answer would be different than it had been a second ago.
“You’re an idiot.”
***
