Page 66 of Claiming His Lost Duchess
Sophia had loved the dress Joan was wearing, had begged for one just like it and Joan promised to have the modiste make her a more appropriate kind, suitable for her age. Now, as she looked at herself, the warmth of her daughter’s admiration had long since evaporated, leaving behind heavy regret that treated to suffocate her, unless she freed herself from the garment.
With a sob, she undid the ties and buttons that kept the dress together, tears streaming down her face as she let it fall into a heap at her feet.
She did not know what to do, how to fix this — if she even could and it only made her self-loathing grow and grow.
Eventually, she decided to focus on the things she could control, opting to change into something more comfortable before she set out to actively participate in the search for her daughter.
With every step she took, she grew even more determined to demand that her husband allow her to find her child, regardless of what she needed to do.
Joan had been wandering around, looking for a place to settle quickly enough for her to pull on her shoes when she caught sight of something in the corner of her eye.
She turned in the direction of her bed, noticing a single pink rose seated atop her sheets. In her distress, the mysterious flower had not caught her attention when she first came in and its presence filled her with unease.
Who could have left that? Why?
When she moved closer to inspect it, she discovered a folded piece of paper tucked beneath the rose.
Ignoring the flower, she picked up the paper, unfolding it quickly. Her eyes scanned through what she swiftly realized was a letter, her stomach churning with dread as she took in each word.
“She looks just like you. It was quite lovely to see. If you want her back, meet me at the Smithens house. Come alone or youwill be forced to witness as I carve up your daughter. You wouldn’t want that, would you, my precious little rose?”
At the bottom, it was signed with a single letter, the syllable causing her stomach to drop even lower than it had.
No,she thought, clenching the paper tightly between her fingers until it began to crumble.It couldn’t be.
But no matter how many times she blinked, how much she prayed, it remained unchanging, its singularity mocking.
You wouldn’t want that, would you, my precious little rose? — B.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“Thank you for coming,” Graham exhaled, his throat feeling parched after all the talking he had done in the last hour. “Your presence means more to me than I can stay.”
It felt better to be in his study, away from the staff he wished he could scream at for letting this happen, from the constables who he felt were not as committed to the situation as they could be. His heart had continued to sink with every minute that passed without Sophia being found.
The regret and guilt that twisted into his gut like a dagger made it difficult to face Joan as well.
He had promised her that Sophia would be all right at home. He had given his word that everything would be perfectly fine. And yet, not only could be not hold his word, but the worst that could have happened had happened.
Graham felt determined to search the city if need be, prepared to rip apart whatever stood in the way of bring his daughter back home.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Where else would we have been while you were dealing with something so horrifying?” Lysander asked, his tone void of the usual humor and sarcasm he often used to refer to Graham.
“Still. Thank you,” Graham said, willing his mind to leave the worries and concerns behind and focus on what mattered.
The constables had searched the house from top to bottom, even managing to find a few secret passages that the Duke was unaware his house possessed. At the end of it, there was no sign of Sophia’s disappearance, nothing that could point them in her direction.
“This is all very strange. If the kidnapper wanted to gain something from this, they would’ve left behind a letter stating their demands. But no such thing has been found anywhere on the property.” Julian pointed out, handing Graham a glass of water.
Lysander paced about thoughtfully, his eyes unfocused as they stared ahead of his feet.
“Is there anyone who would have a reason for doing such a thing? Someone with a grudge, perhaps?” he asked eventually, coming to a stop before his friends.
Graham paused, searching his thoughts for an answer.
Since no ransom demands had been made, just like Julian had pointed out, an enemy with a grudge was the most likely culprit.
But Graham could not think of anyone who would want to cause him or Joan such strife. He kept to himself and his wife was quite content with only her husband and daughter for company.
