He stormed out of the room, his strides long and determined. The servants scattered as he passed by, but he didn’t see them. He could only focus on one thought:Aurelia. Mine. My duchess.
He reached the stables in minutes and grabbed the reins of his stallion with a force that startled the beast. But even the horse seemed to sense his urgency, his desperation.
Without a word, without armor, without pause, he mounted his horse and tore through the gates.
The night air lashed at him, the wind whipping his face, but he did not care. His heart pounded with guilt, with fury, with terror.
This is my fault. If she had stayed, she would have been safe. If I had begged her to stay, she would not be out there. I failed her. I failed them all.
But he would not fail her now.
He kicked his heels into the horse’s flanks, urging him faster.
He was coming for his wife, and God help anyone who dared stand in his way.
CHAPTER 36
The horse tore through the night like a bullet. Percival was bent low over the beast’s neck, his jaw clenched, his knuckles white around the reins.
Aurelia.
Her name fueled the fire in his eyes. She was hurt, and that realization felt like a dagger ripping his heart open.
He couldn’t bear the thought of her fragile body crumpled in pain. He had seen wounds before. He had seen someone hurt before…
Was history repeating itself?
His fists tightened around the reins.
They dared to touch her.
He didn’t even know the culprits’ faces or their names, but that did not matter. He would find them. He would make them beg for death. He would crush even the smallest bones in their bodies until they were nothing but memory.
“You will not take her from me,” he hissed to the wind.
His heart clenched so hard that he almost lost his breath.
“No,” he growled into the dark night. “No. She is alive. She must be alive.”
Memories of the bloodied corpse of Lottie’s mother flashed in his mind’s eye, her eyes devoid of life as her mouth stayed open in a silent scream. The gruesome reminder shocked him, nearly unbalancing him from his saddle but he held the reins tighter, forcing back the thoughts.
Banfield House finally appeared in the distance. Usually, it was a place of chatter and mirth. Even at night, the estate buzzed with maids, carriages, and nobility passing through.
But tonight, silence reigned. A silence so suffocating and unnatural. It made his gut twist.
Indeed, something dreadful had happened.
He pulled the horse to an abrupt stop in the courtyard. Then, he dismounted in one furious motion. His boots struck hard against the cobblestones as he marched toward the house.
When the front doors opened, he could immediately sense the storm he was about to enter.
Lord and Lady Scovell appeared, their features schooled in polite welcome. But behind their tired smiles, Percival could sense the strain, fear, and guilt they tried to hide.
“Your Grace,” Lord Scovell greeted, bowing stiffly. “We?—”
But Percival didn’t have patience for pleasantries tonight. The only person he was interested in seeing was his wife.
“Where is she?” His voice cut through the air, his waning restraint evident.