Page 73 of Her Duke Next Door
“No, you cannot?—”
“Do not try to stop me.”
But before he could leave, Eloise burst in, crying. “Why are you both shouting!” She cried. “People in love should not fight! That is all we ever wanted, our parents to just love each other! Why can’t you do that?”
“Eloise,” Mary murmured, going to her daughter to hold her close. “I am sorry we woke you.”
“I want Katie back,” she cried. “She is gone and I miss her. I am worried, Mama.” She lifted tear-filled eyes to Mary and Dominique, who approached them both. “Please Mama, Papa. Find her.”
Through the window, Mary could see that dawn had broken over the expansive land that Dominique owned.
She placed a hand on his arm. “Will you let me accompany you to search for Katie?”
He gave her a curt nod. “Mary, I need to know if there is anything else. If you know any other places that Katie relates to her mother and what, exactly, she knows about those places, how she found out about them.”
It broke Mary’s heart to betray the young girl’s trust but she needed to believe in Dominique that she might one day build it back up again.
“One of the first times you traveled away, she went through every room in search of anything interesting. She wanted to be mischievous, she told me, in the hopes you would come back to scold her. She found her mother’s diary?—”
Dominique cursed colorfully before startling, remembering Eloise was in the room, and muttered an apology.
“—she found the diary and there was a list of her mother’s favorite haunts in there.”
“Do you know where she kept the diary in her room?”
Mary shook her head. “It is the truth, I swear.”
“Then we shall look, anyway. I can remember some places but not all of them. Anywhere is worth a try. We shall begin searching for her and if we do not find her by noon tomorrow, I shall get the constables involved, as much as I am loathe to do so.”
ChapterTwenty
“You take the left side, I shall ask around on the right side,” Dominique instructed.
“Should we not look together?” Mary asked, her eyes wide. “What if?—”
“All right,” he answered tersely. “Did Eloise answer where she and Katie liked to go here in London?”
“Only the cake store,” Mary replied. As much as Eloise had thrown a tantrum over not helping them find Katie, Mary had left her behind in the castle with Bernie. They needed to focus on Katie as much as possible. Even their argument had been paused, leaving Mary uneasy, unsure of where she now stood with her husband.
More and more patrons began to fill up the cafés and shops, making it harder to find the spaces where a ten-year-old girl might fit herself into. But the more that arrived the more people whispered as word of Mary and Dominique searching for Katie travelled.
“Excuse me,” Mary said to a group of ladies who were making their way into the modiste’s. “We are looking for my stepdaughter, Katie Wallace.” She described the girl and the ladies looked concerned until Dominique stepped forward.
“Perhaps his daughter ran away after witnessing her papa strike her mama, just like the first wife,” the whisper was barely inaudible and Mary looked to Dominique. His eyes burned with fury.
“Ladies,” he said. “If you spent more time on your future prospects and less time on gossiping about others, you might have secured husbands by now.”
“Perhaps if you had been there for your daughter then she might not have run away,” one of the ladies dared to accuse. Dominique went rigid. He used their fear of him to his advantage as he moved closer.
“Do not speak against me, Miss Hawthorne, as I know your parents shall not be happy about your gossiping and accusations of a Duke such as myself. Your fatherislooking to do business with me. It would be a shame if I turned him down due to his daughter’s accusations.” His anger flared. “Do not speak of my daughter again. Good afternoon, ladies.”
With that, he stalked from the modiste’s, with Mary following helplessly in tow.
Similar comments followed them. Some speculated openly; others kept their comments more hidden. They were all of the same speculation: that Katie ran away due to Dominique being abusive. With each new place they searched and came up empty except for more gossip filling their ears, the Duke withered.
“This is all my fault,” he said, collapsing on a nearby bench. Mary rushed to sit beside him, reaching for him. He did not protest when she grasped his hand. “Nobody is willing to help us, nobody will stop accusing me of things I did not do. I was a neglectful father, I admit that, and have tried to change. But I would nevereverraise a hand to my child, nor any woman.”
“I know,” Mary said softly but now he flinched away from her, standing up.
