Page 34 of The Banished Bride
Maybe the first thing he had better hope for was that Aurora did not hate him.
But perhaps if she knew the full story, and what amends he meant to make for his sordid past, she would find it in her heart to forgive him. At least he must venture a try, for what he had left unsaid had caused a wound too grievous to heal by itself. His own tongue-tied embarrassment had caused her to think yet another male had simply used her for his own amusement, thencast her aside, as a child would a toy whose performance had paled or part had cracked.
Nor must she, on any account, be left to believe he had a real marriage, with a willing wife and doting children. He had caught a glimpse of her face, despite the shadows. The thought of such a betrayal had been like a knife in the back. The hurt of it, if left to fester, might slowly cause the life in her to take sick and die, leaving nothing but a brittle, withered shell.
First thing in the morning, he would make her listen to the truth. In doing so he would be abandoning all his soldierly instincts and making himself vulnerable to another person. Yet somehow, the idea of exposing his weaknesses to her was not as frightening as he had imagined. He had long ago ceased to think of Aurora as he did other females. Rather than seeing her as the enemy, he considered her more as a friend, a trusted comrade in arms..
Lud, what a muddle. But he was too exhausted to think on it any further. Trusting that dawn would help shed a fresh light on things, he drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Ten
The shadow angled across the pillow, revealing that the morning was quickly advancing toward noon. Still half asleep, Alex winced as he sat up and ran a hand through his tangled locks. A dull ache throbbed at his temples, and no amount of rubbing seemed able to banish the nagging discomfort. It took a moment for his gaze to focus on the trail of his discarded clothing scattered across the floor, and the rumpled disorder of the bedding, where the faint scent of their passion still clung to the sheet. A low oath slipped out from between his gritted teeth as the details of the previous night came flooding back. No wonder he felt like the devil. It was a long fall from Heaven to Hell.
Aurora.
There was no sign of life from within her room. A second look around showed that the hearth lay cold, the larder had not been opened and the table had not yet been righted onto its rickety legs. Fighting off a sense of foreboding, he stumbled to his feet and tugged on his breeches. Then, heedless of his bare calves and chest, he crossed to the closed door and gave an urgent knock.
“Aurora?”
He called again, softly but with an edge of concern. Still nothing. After a slight hesitation, he undid the latch and entered.
“Damnation!”
This time the word echoed off the thick stones with the force of a pistol shot. Every item she possessed was gone. Pausing only long enough to yank on his boots and snatch up his shirt, he raced outside and headed toward the river. Perhaps she was merely tidying up, he told himself, yet the suggestion rang hollow. He had covered only a short distance when his steps slowed, then came to a dead halt. There was but a single horse tethered in the meadow. The mount that Jack had purchased a few days ago was nowhere to be seen. For a few moments he stood and simply stared out at the rippling meadow grasses and low lying bushes of gorse. It was impossible to deny the truth of it any longer.
She had left. And he had no idea where she had gone.
Forcing himself to turn back toward the cottage, Alex tried to sort out what options lay open to him. It took precious little time for his jaw to tighten. Actually, there were none. Given her headstart, Aurora could be at any number of coaching inns, or already on her way south. He could hardly begin to search the entire southwest corner of Scotland, not with Whitehall expecting immediate delivery of the documents he held and a full report on the mission.
Duty demanded that he make all haste for London. Once he had exchanged the rank of Major for the title of Earl, he would be free to make his own choices. That is, if he could figure out just who he really was and what he really wanted.
A gust had blown the heavy oak door shut. He reached out, but instead of taking hold of the iron latch, his fist slammed into the rough wood with as much force as he could muster. The bloodied knuckles and splintered skin only served to remindhim that physical pain was not nearly as difficult to bear as what he was feeling inside.
Miss Robertson pushedher spectacles back to the bridge of her nose and regarded the state of her former charge’s appearance. “Well, if you don’t look just like something the cat dragged in and spent half the night making sport with.”
It was an unfortunate analogy. Aurora’s lower lip quivered slightly as she tucked a loose tendril behind her ear and tossed her dusty reticule onto the top of her desk. “How kind of you to point it out,” she snapped. “But given my current mood, if Homer—or any other male beast—flexes his furried claws within a twenty paces of me I vow I shall kick his teeth in.”
The older woman made a sympathetic clucking sound. “Oh dear, were you forced to endure the company of a particularly vexing man for part of the journey?” She came over to plant a light kiss on Aurora’s wan cheek. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you go off by yourself, especially after the Duchess’s coachman delivered that vague note announcing an unavoidable delay. However, you may put the experience all behind you now that you are back among friends. I am sure you will feel like a new lady after a hot bath and a slice of Alice’s apple tart.” Her ample arm went around the sagging shoulders. “Welcome home, my dear. ”
Aurora looked around the familiar little room and burst into tears.
“What doyou mean you can’t find her!” The new Earl of Woodbridge was perilously close to shouting.
His man of affairs blotted the sheen of perspiration from his forehead with the cuff of his jacket. “Er, well, milord. Apparentlyno one ever informed either of us that she never took up residence at Rexford.”
“Never?”
The fellow gave a nervous swallow, then shook his head. “It appears not.”
“But she does receive the quarterly draft of funds?”
“Yes, milord. We haven’t yet tracked down exactly where it goes or how it gets there, but we are working on the matter.”
Alex paused in his pacing before the ornately carved mantel of his townhouse library. “Well, keep at it!” He raked a hand through his locks, achieving a result that would have caused his new valet to fall into a fit of vapors had he observed it. “In the meantime, Perkins, try sending a letter in the same manner as the money.” Under his breath he added, “Perhaps a penny stamp will prove more effective than the barrow full of blunt I am paying you and your minions.”
“An excellent suggestion, milord! I’ll get right on it.” Pouncing on the opportunity to make good his escape, the man bowed and scurried from the room.
Alex heaved a sigh, then moved to the massive claw footed desk and rang for his butler to usher in the last of his morning appointments.
