Page 154 of Ironvine

“After all you have experienced, you are no longer your old self, Charles.”

“Here’s the rub, my friend—I never liked my old self much anyway. My carefully crafted polish served to make my life easy. But underneath I always craved something more. A more I considered beyond me.”

“Now you have it.”

“Now I have it.”

“Consider our new business venture,” said Brandon. “Sugar was my father’s great success, and he meant it for me, for Wolfsgate’s future. It was difficult to give it up, but I wanted to, I had to. I am the Baron of Graven now, and it is up to me to decide what my success feels like and looks like. It’s not up to my hundred little fears, nor those heavy voices from the past.”

“No more voices from the past.”

“No more.” He cleared his throat. “I’m glad we’re doing this together.”

A grin lashed Brandon’s mouth. “So am I. Brandon extended his hand, and they shook. “Now, I really must get home. I am quite eager to see my wife and tell her the good news.”

“I too am most eager to see my wife,” said Charles. “Good night, Graven.”

“Good night.”

With a hand raised in farewell, Charles prompted his horse forward into the rainy night for Ironvine.

No more voices from the past.

Charles urged his stallion into a gallop.

* * *

The momenthe rode through the stone walls marking Ironvine, something hot and blazing raced through his veins, curled through his insides.

His desire for his wife.

He urged his horse forward. Faster.

Georgie would be waiting for him in the parlour. Or no, she’d be working in her morning room, organizing, sketching a last-minute inspiration along with a glass of wine. She would smile up at him, and he would take her mouth and….

He slid off his horse, handed the reins to the servant, and charged up the marble steps of his house. The door opened, and his drenched cloak was taken. He wiped at his face. “Where’s my wife?”

“The countess retired some time ago, my lord. She did not take supper.”

“Ah, then I shall go to her. Have brandy and supper brought to us in my chamber.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

Unbuttoning his frock coat, Charles took the stairs two at a time. He didn’t have a morsel to eat at the pub as the entire tavern disgusted him suddenly. The boisterous crowd, the heat, the heavy smells, the greasy food. Now, he was ravenous.

Learning about their parents’ love affair, Hugh’s letter—it had all been heavy news, and she had been equally affected but had already found a quiet peace with it. Although it was something they shared, and he liked that, he still struggled to sort through it all.

Rapping his knuckles against her bedchamber door, he swung it open.

“Georgina?”

No reply came, no laughter, no rushing of steps, no sound of his name off her lips. Nothing.

Where was she?

He went through to her dressing room, his dressing room, his chamber. Back to her room. Her dress on the bed. Her chemise crumpled at its side. Her bloomers were tossed on the floor by the bed and the dress. Her shoes.

That only meant one thing. Either she was naked somewhere, or she’d donned her manly clothes to go walking.

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