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If he hadn’t already been madly in love with her, he would be, now. But this wasn’t the moment to indulge in romantic musings.
She couldn’t have gotten far in this snow.
He turned, but just as he was about to rush back to the castle he spotted something dark half-buried underneath a shrub.
It looked like … a shoe?
He rummaged in the shrubbery and pulled out a worn black half-boot, half covered in snow. It was hers. He recognized the broken silver buckle. It must have slipped from her foot as she was climbing, and then when she reached the bottom she couldn’t find it.
Stella had certainly gone out the window, then. Here was the proof of it, right in his hand. God, how desperate she must have been, how frightened!
He searched the ground, and after a bit more flailing and fumbling in the dark, at last he found a shallow set of footprints rapidly filling with falling snow.
They were pointed east, toward the front drive.
He snatched up the shoe and raced back to the castle and through the first door he came to, which happened to be the kitchens.
A dozen heads turned in his direction and a dozen mouths fell open at the sight of their wild-eyed master standing before them, covered with snow and waving a shoe about.
“Your Grace?” His cook, Mrs. Hazelton, hurried toward him, her eyes wide. “Is something amiss?”
“Yes, Mrs. Hazelton, there is. Please have Brooks ready the sleigh as quickly as the thing can be managed. I’ll need hot bricks as well, and plenty of blankets.”
Mrs. Hazelton, bless her, didn’t ask a single question, but leapt into action at once. “Yes, Your Grace, right away! Quickly, George! Find Mr. Brooks and tell him the duke needs the sleigh!”
George dashed off, leaving Gabriel pacing between the staircase and the front door in an agony of impatience until at last—at last— he heard the tinkle of bells echoing in the night air.
He threw open the front door. The sleigh was in the drive. Brooks leaped out and handed the reins to Gabriel. “Ready to go, Your Grace!”
“Good man, Brooks.” Gabriel hurried through the door and leaped into the sleigh, Mrs. Hazelton chasing after him with an armful of blankets, and calling over her shoulder to the two footmen behind her to make haste with the hot bricks.
Within moments they were tearing down the drive, snowflakes swirling around them and Gabriel’s heart beating in time with the jingling bells.
He’d find her. He wouldn’t stop until he did.
This had been a mistake.
Stella hadn’t even reached the end of the drive before she was forced to admit the humiliating truth—one small lady in a threadbare cloak with only a single shoe was no match for a Scottish snowstorm.
She’d have to go back. It was either that or freeze to death. Her hands were numb, and her left foot was … well, perhaps it would be best not to dwell on the state of her left foot. It wouldn’t do to lose her courage now, when she still had to find the strength to trudge back up the drive.
It was an extraordinarily long drive, too, because of course the Duke of Hawthorne must have the longest drive in all of Scotland.
But there was nothing to be done. She’d simply have to take it one step at a time.
Three steps later she paused again, her ears pricking. Were those sleigh bells? Or had she become delirious with cold?
No, those were certainly sleigh bells. They were coming from the direction of the castle, and … were they growing louder? She peered into the darkness, but the snow swirled around her, and it was impossible to see a thing.
“Stella!” A deep voice broke the silence. “Stella, wait!”
A sleigh was barreling down the drive, Gabriel at the reins.
He’d come after her.
She forgot her frozen fingers, her numb toes and wet cloak and the melted snow dripping down her neck, because her heart … oh, her heart had always known what it wanted, even before her mind had.
He’d lied to her, yes, but there was no naysaying her heart. As soon as his voice reached her through the darkness, the irrepressible organ swelled with joy and love.
