Page 85 of The Duke's Return
What am I supposed to do?
The three friends usually had decent advice. Sometimes he ignored it. He meant to do it this time, but he wasn’t sure that he could. When faced with the thought of losing Genevieve for good was too much, Julian began to realize that he couldn’t go through with it.
He couldn’t lose her. Finally listening to the impatient beat of his heart, Julian moved back to his feet. He had to get Genevieve back no matter what it took him. Whatever the cost might be, he would pay it for her.
“My horse!” Julian bellowed. He grabbed Sebastian’s letter with the address. “Saddle my horse!”
There was a storm brewing outside, but he didn’t care. His grooms shared looks before tentatively asking, “Shall we wait until the rain recedes?”
He thought of the pain and fury in Genevieve’s eyes. How he thought he could live with that, he didn’t know. Julian had never thought of himself as cruel, but he had been a complete devil to her. There was much to apologize for and he couldn’t start until he reached her.
“No. I’ll return… eventually.” Leaving behind the hat, he accepted a cloak and climbed into the saddle.
His stomach churned as they bolted down the street.
They were soaked before he made it to the end of his lane. But Julian didn’t care one whit. All he could hear were the devastating words he had told his wife over and over again. How he had ignored her, mocked her, and deceived her.
She really is much braver than me. She could be honest whereas I clearly don’t understand the meaning of that. But I have to do something.
Growing furious with his past self, Julian ground his teeth and wished he could fight himself. Perhaps he’d jump into the ring someday with Sebastian and let the man beat him to bits. That was what he would deserve.
It was real, Genevieve, blast it.
Heather Lane wasn’t a street he had been to before, but he had a fair idea of where to find it. Julian raced back and forth across Mayfair to find the street and then started down the lane.The horse beneath him panted and shivered in the cold, so he promised countless delights and relief to get them just a little further.
And then he found the house.
Julian wanted to freeze right there and study the place where his wife had found refuge. Though he knew she had returned to the Southwick house a few times––that being the reason why he had taken up the bachelor quarters––she spent most of her time with Lady Phoebe.
Thinking of Genevieve, Julian nearly toppled off the saddle. He sneezed and shook free of the rain though that did little good. But he cared not, needing to find his wife.
He couldn’t bear the thought of another night passing without seeing her. Had they not suffered enough? Or, he feared, did she still suffer? He worried about what she might be doing, what she might think, but he knew he had to try.
“We have no knocker,” were the first words of the butler opening the door for him when he made it there.
But Julian was prepared for the polite refusal, and bullied his way in with a shoulder. “Please have someone tend to my horse. And I don’t care. I know the duchess is here and I must speak to her at once.”
Anger coursed through him as he recounted his missed opportunities with Genevieve. There had been so many chances for him to be mindful of her. He could have been honest. He could lingered closer. He could have kissed her sooner. He could have kissed her longer.
“Er, Your Grace?” the butler guessed.
“Tell her I’m here,” Julian repeated staunchly, breathing hard. He sucked in a deep breath. “Because I will not leave until I’ve spoken to my wife.”
CHAPTER 33
Laughing, Genevieve wiped away a stray tear and shook her head at her friend who pulled feathers down from her head after looking terribly silly.
“There it is,” Phoebe preened. “There is that laugh.”
“What laugh? I laugh,” she defended herself.
“Not as much lately, which I particularly don’t like. You have a lovely laugh, you know.” Sighing, Phoebe set the peacock flowers down and instead collected a small pearl she could tuck into her hair for the evening. “I miss it. I miss you.”
Genevieve rolled her eyes. “I’m right here.”
“Yes, but a horribly morose version of yourself,” her friend informed her. Phoebe caught her eye in the mirror and winked before offering a dramatic pout. “Of course, I know you have good reason, but I do wish you had more happiness in your life. You deserve it, my dear.”
With a strained smile, she nodded. “Thank you, Phoebe.”
