Page 68 of Her Wily Duke

Hurrying upstairs as quietly as she could, she packed a change of clothes, her brush, hand mirror and one book into a small valise. Then, while Benedict and Fitzherbert continued to talk in the study, she slipped out through the servants’ door into the bitterly cold sleet and rain.

There was one place she could go – one place where she could be certain that she would not be turned away. It was not a choice she was happy making, but it was better than the thought of spending the night ahead in some soaking wet hedgerow or cow byre.

***

When they had finished speaking together in his study, Benedict asked a footman to bring Ariana to the parlour, so that he might introduce her to James. The footman returned, looking most alarmed, to say that Her Grace was missing, and that the kitchen boy had seen her go out into the rain at dusk.

Benedict could not imagine why she might have done such a thing - fear filled him, and without further discussion, he called for his heaviest cloak, and sent the footman to have the carriage prepared.

Whilst they waited for it to be brought around, he searched the gardens and nearby area, hoping that perhaps Ariana had wanted to walk, and had ended up taking shelter from the rain in the stables or the like. But his searching was to no avail.

He returned to the house, deeply worried, James at his side.

“Where could she have gone? And why? Perhaps the village, do you think?”

“But Benedict, what would take her there? And why did she leave the house in the first place?”

Benedict faced his friend, and a chill from far more than the rain filled him. What if Ariana had overheard…?

“You don’t suppose…?”

“That she overheard us? She might well have done so, and that would certainly explain her leaving the house in a hurry, if she took it entirely the wrong way.”

Benedict glared at James, fear for Ariana, and fear for all hope of restoring their marriage making him shake where he stood.

“I should never have listened to you, should never have used that potion!”

“Ah… Benedict, I have a confession to make.”

“A confession?”

“That potion… it was never more than some water with a squeeze of lemon juice added. It did absolutely nothing to Ariana – if she loved you, she loved you for yourself. All that potion did was give you a bit more confidence about the whole situation…”

Benedict stared at his friend, astounded. He was pleased – she actually loved him – or she had – yet he was horrified – for what she had overheard had just destroyed that love, perhaps forever. He had to find her.

“We have to find her, to tell her… Where could she have gone? There is nothing and no-one in the village I can imagine her going to. Perhaps Hazelworth Hall? Her mother would surely be someone she might seek out for comfort?”

At that moment, a footman came to tell them that the carriage awaited them at the door, and they hurried out. Benedict instructed the coachman to take them to Hazelworth Hall, and anxiously stared out of the window as they went, hoping to see sign of Ariana.

Beside him, James peered out of the other window, and remained silent – they would, Benedict resolved, be having serious words later, about the deception which James had perpetrated upon him.

***

“You’re saying he tried to poison you?” asked Lord Jasper. “Has the marriage curdled so quickly?”

“Not poison me, exactly. He’s been slipping a love potion into my tea at night. I — suppose he thought that it would mend the troubles between us. I overheard him talking about it with the man who gave him the potion.”

She was seated by a small fire, slowly drying, in the parlour of Lord Jasper’s home – a large cottage on his father’s estate, which he had chosen to live in, rather than the main house. The hail which had battered her so as she walked here continued to drum against the windows, as if carrying some urgent warning.

Lord Jasper had been trying to paint the view from his window, down towards the river with the rain and the looming clouds, when she had knocked at the door - the tall canvas stood on his easel by the window. He had placed it at an odd angle so that it took up most of the space in the room. Between this and the clutter of overstuffed chairs and side tables, there was barely enough room for the two of them to sit comfortably.

She had been shocked when he opened the door himself, as she had expected a footman or a maid. But it seemed that they were completely alone in the house. That thought made her shiver with apprehension.

“Are you sure it wasn’t a joke? Perhaps you misheard him.”

Lord Jasper had been standing with his back to her, close against the table which was set by one wall. He had settled her here by the fire, and left the room for a few minutes after her arrival, then returned with a tray bearing two cups of tea, into one of which he now stirred honey with a long spoon. He turned, lifted the tray and came to her, then placed the tray on the tiny side table between them.

Ariana felt that she ought to accept the tea out of politeness, but after what she had just learned about Benedict putting potions in her tea, she had no desire for it.