Page 78 of A Trap by the Rakish Duke
John stepped forward, his expression grim. “Your Grace, I have returned to Oakdale post haste to report on Lord Keldbrooke’s conduct. He sought out Her Grace and…”
Philip’s heart raced as he leaned forward, bracing himself. “What did he do?”
“He was violent, Your Grace,” John replied, his voice tense. “He nearly struck her, but the footmen intervened just in time.”
A chill ran down Philip’s spine and he froze, his mind racing through the implications. After a moment he returned to himself, fury and concern battling within him.
“Fetch Mrs. Jarrow,” he commanded. “I need to leave for London at once.”
“Your Grace, you cannot go in your state,” John replied, urgency creeping into his tone. “You are not fit to ride. You look as though you have not slept since Her Grace left.”
“I cannot sit idly by while he terrorizes her,” Philip insisted, his jaw tightening.
“Rest, Your Grace,” John urged. “Her Grace is not in any immediate danger. If you ride now, you will only weaken yourself and be of no use to her.”
The fight drained from Philip and he slumped back in his chair, his frustration boiling over. “Very well,” he relented, though the anguish in his heart was palpable. “I will rest.”
Philip mounted his horse as the dawn broke over the horizon. He wished he could blink and immediately appear by Aurelia’s side.
In Bridget House, Eilidh entered Aurelia’s chamber, breakfast tray in hand, her eyebrows knitted with worry. “Your Grace, I have brought your breakfast,” she said, setting the tray down gently.
Aurelia barely acknowledged her, staring blankly out the window, the sun shining on her in a warm embrace that she could not feel.
Eilidh frowned, glancing at the untouched plate. “You should eat, Your Grace. It will do you good.”
Aurelia turned to her, her eyes shadowed with grief. “I have no appetite, Eilidh.”
“You must take care of yourself. I have heard there is a lovely park nearby,” Eilidh suggested gently. “A stroll in the fresh air might do you some good.”
“I do not wish to,” Aurelia replied, her voice flat.
“Please, Your Grace,” Eilidh pleaded. “Just a little fresh air?”
With a heavy sigh, Aurelia relented. “Very well. A brief stroll, but only to appease you.”
Eilidh brightened, helping Aurelia into a cloak before they stepped outside. The chill of the morning air was refreshing, yet it did little to lift Aurelia’s spirits. They walked slowly, the sounds of the city echoing around them, but the beauty of the day felt distant and unattainable.
A familiar voice suddenly sliced through the air, jagged and harsh. “Aurelia! I demand that you speak with me!”
Aurelia’s heart sank as she turned to see Lord Keldbrooke striding toward them, his demeanor menacing.
Eilidh instinctively stepped in front of Aurelia, her expression fierce. “You will not speak to her like that, My Lord! She does not wish to see you.”
“Step aside, girl,” Lord Keldbrooke snapped, his eyes flashing with fury. “This is between me and my daughter.”
Aurelia felt fear crawl up her spine as she took a step back, trying to distance herself from the brewing storm. “Father, please,” she said softly. “I do not want to argue with you.”
“Too late for that!” Lord Keldbrooke’s voice rose, attracting the attention of passersby. “Do you not understand that you are being manipulated? Your husband has turned you against me!”
Aurelia shook her head, her heart racing. “Philip did not manipulate me,youdid!”
Lord Keldbrooke’s expression twisted and he moved closer, his voice low and menacing. “You defend that scoundrel? He is the reason you are suffering. You should be with your family!”
Just then a horse galloped toward them in the distance. It was Philip.
Aurelia’s heart leaped in her chest.
“Step away from her,” Philip commanded, his voice firm.
