Page 75 of Wedded to the Beastly Duke
She refused to acknowledge the hurt that came with it.
Adam had chosen Nicholas. Without informing her of his decision, he was choosing his friend and choosing to disregard everything she’d said.
“I have no desire to wait,” Emmeline said, throwing back the covers. “Take me to my parents’ house now.”
“Your Grace?—”
“The Duke is not here, and no doubt he gave you orders, but Iamhere, and I am still the Duchess, no matter how he chooses to treat me.” Her feet sank into the soft carpet. “Pack my things. I will leave tonight.”
The maid’s face twisted, and she clasped her hands in front of her. “At least wait until the morning, Your Grace. It’s dark out.”
Emmeline paused, glancing at the curtains, which indeed let no light in. Yes, she had awoken in the dark. Somehow, in the depths of her anger, she had forgotten that one fact.
“Very well,” she said and exhaled sharply. “I shall wait until tomorrow, but I would like to leave this place tomorrow morning.” If he wanted her gone, she would not make him wait. “No delays. Is that understood?”
The maid bobbed a curtsy. “Yes, Your Grace.”
* * *
Adam looked at the letter he had received from Emmeline. His name was written in precise letters on the back, and when he unfolded it, he saw only a few words.
Your Grace,
You are free to return home. I have vacated the premises. I will not look for you in town.
Emmeline.
His heart gave a little lurch at seeing her write ‘Your Grace’ instead of his name, but no doubt he deserved that. She was likely angry at the way he had left, and the way he had sent her off, but that was to be expected. He deserved it.
It had only been a full day since he’d last seen her, but already a part of him ached, as though he had lost a limb and still expected to be able to use it. When he’d been in the Navy, he had seen that happen more than once—a man without a leg would experience itching where the phantom limb was, and no amount of logical reasoning could persuade the itch to vanish.
No amount of logical reasoning could persuade him not to miss Emmeline. When she had first arrived in his house, she had been a thorn in his side, but at its removal, he just felt the hole left behind.
The best thing he could do was throw himself into discovering what had happened to his brother.
“The Viscount Sarron, Your Grace.”
Adam folded the letter and glanced up to find Nicholas standing in the doorway. He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes and a hunched posture.
“Adam,” he said and came to sit on the chair opposite with the air of a man at the end of his tether. “I called at the house, but there was no one there.”
“I’m spending some time in London,” Adam said unnecessarily. “Were you hoping to speak with me?”
“Where’s the Duchess?”
“I sent her to recover at her parents’ home.” Adam rubbed a hand over his face, not wanting to confess that they were, for the time being, separated. “Were you hoping to speak to her directly?”
“No, I merely wanted…” Nicholas shook his head and folded his ankle over his knee. “My wife has taken quite a liking to her. Is she well?”
“Well, she suffered a fall.” Mindful of what Emmeline had told him, Adam squinted at Nicholas, trying to assess how he took the news. “She hit her head.”
“How upsetting.” Nicholas affected shock, but Adam couldn’t tell if it was real or not.
He must be going mad. He poured himself a glass of scotch and handed one to his friend.
“The timing was unfortunate. I deemed it better to let her recover elsewhere.”
“I’m surprised she’s not at the house.” Nicholas swirled his drink. “The house is empty?”
