Chapter 34

CHAPTER 34

T he next morning dawned grey and damp, yet the chill didn’t bother Frederick as he saddled his horse. Hours slipped by as they traveled narrow roads, passed through villages and over rain-washed hills, the scenery blurring past him, every mile drawing him closer.

Frederick’s thoughts were fixed on her face, her voice, the soft light in her eyes as she had looked at him that last evening before they had parted ways. He clung to those memories, to the hope that she might forgive him, that she might still be waiting for him.

The long day passed in a blur, and by the time Frederick finally arrived, the late afternoon light cast long shadows across the grounds.

The estate was vast but austere, a grand but imposing structure that reminded him more of a monastery than a family home. It felt cold, almost unwelcoming, the surrounding gardens tangled with weeds and left to go to seed.

Frederick dismounted, taking a deep breath to steady himself. His heart quickened with the knowledge that she was here, just within these walls. He approached the large front door and knocked firmly.

After a long pause, the door opened to reveal a tall, elderly butler. The man’s expression was impeccably neutral, although he took in Frederick’s presence with a quick, assessing glance, his gaze lingering on the Duke’s travel-worn attire.

Frederick inclined his head. “I am here to see Lady Gemma. Please inform her that the Duke of Blackridge has arrived and wishes to speak with her.”

The butler’s face remained unreadable, though he dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Of course, Your Grace. Please, do step inside.”

Frederick crossed the threshold into the dimly lit foyer, his eyes adjusting to the gloom as he took in the bare stone walls and cold marble floors. The air felt thick and stagnant, as if the house itself was reluctant to let in light or warmth. He noted the starkness of the space, its oppressive silence settling over him with a chill.

The butler shut the door and gestured toward a nearby hallway. “If you would please follow me, Your Grace, I shall inform the lady of the house of your arrival.”

Frederick nodded, holding back the impatience that clawed at him. “Thank you,” he replied, his voice betraying none of the urgency he felt.

The butler led him through a series of hallways, each more dimly lit and somber than the last, until they reached a large, sparsely furnished sitting room. A faint musty scent lingered in the air, and the few paintings on the walls seemed dark and foreboding.

“Please make yourself comfortable, Your Grace,” the butler said, gesturing toward an armchair near the cold, empty fireplace. “I shall return shortly.”

Frederick nodded, though he couldn’t resist a quick glance around the room, hoping to catch sight of Gemma’s familiar figure. But the space remained empty and silent as the butler disappeared into the dimly lit corridor.

Left alone, Frederick found himself pacing the length of the room, his thoughts racing.

He wondered how Gemma had fared in the days since their separation. Did she resent him, he wondered? Would she even agree to see him? He had prepared himself for the possibility that she might refuse, that she might send him away before he had a chance to speak to her.

He knew he couldn’t leave without trying. He needed to see her, to offer her an explanation for his actions and, if she would allow it, to bring her back with him. He needed her back to Blackridge with him, for his home was empty without her, its halls cold and silent in a way they hadn’t been after she had entered his life. He had spent enough time resisting his feelings, hiding behind his pride and his duty, but he could no longer deny the truth.

Footsteps echoed down the hall, interrupting his reverie. Frederick straightened, his heart soaring with anticipation as he turned toward the doorway.

The door to the sitting room opened again, this time with a quiet creak that echoed in the tense silence.

Lady Anna Clarke, better known as Lady Treston, entered the room first, her posture rigid and her expression one of controlled disdain. She was impeccably dressed, her gown a mirror of the latest fashion, but there was something about her that felt stiff and unwelcoming, like a carefully crafted facade without warmth or substance to it.

Elizabeth dawdled behind Lady Treston, her hesitant steps betraying her discomfort with the situation. She glanced around the room, her eyes briefly meeting Frederick’s before she quickly looked away, her lips pressed into a tight line.

Frederick stood as they entered, his greeting courteous but lacking any enthusiasm. “Lady Treston, Elizabeth, it is lovely to see you again.”

“Your Grace, how unexpected,” Lady Treston said with a touch of condescension in her voice. “I trust your journey was not too exhausting?” she added with a cool smile, her eyes quickly scanning Frederick’s appearance as if evaluating his worth.

Frederick gave a slight smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “It has been long, but I am glad to have arrived.”

Lady Treston glanced at Elizabeth before turning her sharp gaze back on Frederick. “But, of course, I must assume you did not come all this way simply for pleasantries. You must have matters of importance to discuss. Perhaps with Elizabeth?”

She waved a hand in the direction of her daughter, who had already taken a few steps back, clearly uncomfortable at being in the spotlight.

Elizabeth immediately stiffened, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment and reluctance.

“Mother, please…” she murmured, her eyes darting toward the door as if she might escape any moment.

Frederick turned his gaze toward Elizabeth, then back to Lady Treston with a firm, but respectful, shake of his head.

“I came to speak with Lady Gemma,” he said quietly, his words hanging in the air. “I am afraid I have little to discuss with anyone else at this time.”

Lady Treston’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second before she regained her composure. “Gemma?” she repeated with a faint chuckle. “My dear, I do understand your sentiment, but surely you know that it is she who must be available to speak with you, not the other way around.”

Frederick’s expression remained unchanged, but the faint tightening of his jaw was enough to signal his displeasure. “I am well aware of that,” he replied, his tone cold. “But she is the only person I have come to see.”

Elizabeth glanced between them nervously, her discomfort growing by the second. Lady Treston’s gaze, however, seemed to harden.

She took a small step closer to Frederick, her voice lowering as she tried to convince him. “I must admit, Your Grace, you might find it more advantageous to speak with Elizabeth,” she said, her tone silky and tinged with a hint of suggestion. “She is younger, more capable, and her future is, after all, the one you should be most concerned with. Why waste your time on someone like Gemma?”

At that, Frederick’s eyes narrowed, and the muscles in his shoulders tensed as if he had been slapped. He could hear the undertone of cruelty in Lady Treston’s words, the way she spoke of Gemma as if she were an inconvenience to be dealt with rather than a person worthy of respect.

He could tolerate much, but this was too far.

“Enough,” Frederick said, his voice low but firm, carrying with it the weight of finality. “You will not speak of her that way.”

Lady Treston’s eyes widened, momentarily taken aback by the sudden force in his words. “I beg your pardon?” she said, a false sweetness returning to her voice as she tried to regain control of the conversation.

“No, Lady Treston,” Frederick continued, his voice becoming sharper, more intense. “I will not let you diminish Gemma’s worth. She is not some…” he paused, the words catching in his throat as he struggled to restrain the anger he felt. “She is intelligent, kind, capable and strong. More than any of you will ever give her credit for. She deserves better than the treatment you give her, and if you cannot see that, then it is you who is blind, not her.”

Lady Treston stood frozen for a moment, her face flushed with the surprise of being spoken to so boldly. Her lips twisted into a crooked, reptilian smile. “How dare you…” she began, but before she could continue, Elizabeth stepped forward and raised a hesitant hand in an attempt to prevent her mother from speaking further.

“Mother, please,” Elizabeth said softly, her voice trembling as she tried to calm the growing tension. “This is not helping. You can see that the Duke means to speak with Gemma. Let him. There is no reason for all of this…”

Frederick, ignoring the exchange between mother and daughter, turned his attention fully to Lady Treston. “I have said my piece,” he said with quiet authority. “Now, I am here to speak with Gemma, and I will not leave until I have been granted that opportunity.”

Lady Treston gave a final, exasperated sigh, her lips pressed into a thin line. She glanced at Elizabeth, who avoided her gaze, and then back at Frederick. “Very well, Your Grace,” she said bitterly. “I shall inform her that you are here. But I assure you, I hope you will not waste too much of her time. She has other responsibilities to deal with.”

Frederick didn’t respond, his eyes locked onto hers with a cold intensity. He simply nodded and took a step back, his posture still erect and resolute. Lady Treston gave a dismissive gesture to Elizabeth before sweeping out of the room, leaving her daughter to linger in the doorway.

Elizabeth’s indecisive eyes met Frederick’s, clearly wanting to impart something, but she lowered her head in defeat and followed her mother.

Frederick remained in place, his mind racing as he paced slowly across the room. He could feel the hum of his anticipation, and the pounding of his heart as he waited for the woman he had ridden all the way from Blackridge to see.

He saw the way Lady Treston had looked at him, her words cutting through him with a precision that made his stomach turn. But the more he thought about it, the harder his resolve solidified. He was here for Gemma. He would see her, and nothing would stop him.

Moments later, the door to the sitting room opened again, this time more quietly, with a soft rustling of fabric that drew Frederick’s attention. His heart stopped.

There she was. Gemma.

The sight of her nearly took his breath away. Her presence was like a breath of fresh air, even in this cold, oppressive house. She stood in the doorway, her expression unreadable at first, her eyes meeting his with surprise, hesitation, and a naked longing that still connected them despite all the time that had passed.

For the first time in over a month, their eyes locked.

And, in that instant, nothing else mattered.