Page 96 of The Duchess' Replacement

Charles slammed down his fork. “I am the Duke. I say who is allowed in my home.” His eyes went back to the door and Samuels standing next to it.

Why did the bloody man look so awkward standing there? Did he always loom over them like that?

An itch started to climb up Charles’s spine. Something was wrong.

“And where in the dueces is Sarah?” He demanded.

Samuels lazily turned to Charles. He reached into his jacket and pulled out an envelope.

He walked over to Charles and laid it on his plate.

Charles looked up to Samuels, confused. “What is this? Why am I just getting this now? For the love of God, man, I’ve been sitting here for awhile now, why wasn’t I given this the moment I walked in?”

Samuels said nothing but returned to his post at the door.

What the bloody hell is going on in this house?

Charles’s heart began to race. He couldn’t help the feeling like he was missing a monumental piece of the puzzle. It was as if everyone else was playing a game and he did not know the rules.

He looked at Nora who looked just as curious as he did.

Charles’s fingers shook as he opened the envelope and pulled out the paper inside. It smelled of Sarah and his heart began to tremble.

Her feminine cursive danced across the page but the words did not match their beauty.

His brows furrowed. He couldn’t be reading this right. He read over the words again.

…needed time and space.

Care for you deeply, but…

…spend this time with my sister.

Charles crumbled the paper in his hands.

“What… what does it say, Charles?” He could hear the tremor in Nora’s voice.

Charles looked up to Samuels, who was standing with his hands behind his back, knowing exactly what the letter said.

“Very well,” he said, after clearing his throat. “It seems Sarah has decided to spend some time with her sister, Eleanor.”

Nora gasped. “What did you do?”

Stunned, Charles looked up at her.

“She made life here bearable and you went and scared her off probably with your brutish behavior! Why are you like this?” She screamed as she ran from the table.

Charles stood just as Mrs. Bates walked in.

“Let me go after her, Your Grace. Sometimes young girls need a more womanly touch.”

Charles winced. He remembered Sarah saying a similar thing to him the night those boys harassed Nora, right before he shut her out.

The weight of the realization dragged Charles back down into his chair. He gestured to Mrs. Bates and she followed the girl.

“Did someone escort her?” Charles’s voice felt like sand in his throat.

“William, Your Grace.” Samuels offered.

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