Chapter 21

“Duncan?” Her husband’s name spilled from her lips before she’d even opened her eyes, somehow sensing he was not there.

Her heart sank as she was met with silence, and then she opened her eyes to what she already knew was going to be true.

Forgetting about her ankle, Alice flung the covers off her and put her bare feet on the floor. Pain flared annoyingly up her ankle as she put her weight on it, but it was nowhere near as bad as yesterday.

“Rebecca!” she called, raising her voice as she walked gingerly toward the connecting door.

Her handmaid was there in a second, opening the door and rushing toward her.

“Your Grace, you should not be walking yet,” Rebecca insisted worriedly, helping her into her room.

“I’m fine,” Alice lied as her maid guided her to the chair by her vanity. “Have you seen His Grace?”

Her heart stopped as she waited for Rebecca’s answer, and she swore it only started to beat again when the handmaid finally said yes.

“He did not leave his quarters long ago, Your Grace,” Rebecca informed her. “I believe he may even still be at the breakfast room downstairs.”

“Perfect,” Alice said quickly, turning toward the vanity. “Get me a dress and help me get ready with haste. I want to catch him before he leaves.”

She dabbed rouge on her cheeks and arranged her hair into a decent, half-up style, and within minutes she was sliding into the clean undergarments and dress Rebecca had brought her.

“You must slow down, Your Grace,” Rebecca insisted worriedly as she stumbled to keep up with Alice. “You will hurt yourself again!”

“I am fine,” Alice retorted, breathing through the growing pain as she made her way down the stairs. “Help me down, would you?”

“Goodness, you can move faster than that,” she snapped, growing impatient with her handmaid’s snail-like pace.

“Your Grace, you should not even be on the stairs,” Rebecca argued.

Alice shot her a glare that had her keeping her opinions to herself, and as commanded, the maid quickened her pace.

“Duncan,” she sighed, unable to keep the relief from her voice as she entered the breakfast room and saw her husband. “Thank heavens. I feared you had left.”

“Not yet, but in a moment,” Duncan told her callously, keeping his eyes on his food.

His tone hurt her, and as he made no move to stop eating his breakfast or even get up as she approached, she immediately knew something was gravely wrong.

“I thought you were free the rest of the week?” she asked gently as she took the closest seat to him.

That earned her a glance in her direction, but nothing more.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, cutting off another bite of his sausage.

“I am fine,” Alice said sternly as she snatched the fork out of his hands. “What is happening to you, Duncan? I thought you said there would be no more secrets?”

Duncan made no indication that being workless bothered him and only continued eating with his fingers. “No secrets,” he agreed. “I am telling you now that I am moving out.”

The warmth in Alice’s body vanished as ice splintered through her veins, and she felt tears clog her throat.

“What?” she croaked.

She had to have misheard. She had to.

“I cannot thank you enough for what you have done for me, for the manor, but I cannot do this any longer,” Duncan went on.

He had finally abandoned his food, but he would still not look at her.

“You do not mean it,” Alice whispered, feeling her tears begin to roll down her cheeks. “You cannot. Duncan, after everything! After how far we have come!”

“This marriage was never supposed to happen,” he snapped, pushing his plate away. “You should have never come in that room. You should have never kissed me. I tried to be a gentleman, Alice, but you ask too much.”

She looked at him as if he’d slapped her, speechless. Pain reflected in his eyes as he finally looked up at her, but his stony expression didn’t change. She rushed toward him then, ignoring the pain in her ankle as she pushed herself into his lap and kissed his lips.

“I love you,” she cried softly. “Please, Duncan, do not do this.”

A strangled sound clawed up his throat as he glanced away with glassy eyes. Then, he wrapped his hands gently but firmly around her upper arms and lifted her off him. It might as well have been a punch to the gut, as far as Alice was concerned.

“I am sorry you got confused,” Duncan said, his voice wavering as he put space between them. “I have to admit that I got confused as well, but my head is clear now. As I said, I will move out. The manor is yours to do with as you wish. There will be no divorce or annulment, and as I always promised, I will provide for you financially, always. Move your sisters in if you wish. Your father, even. It is yours.”

“I do not want it,” Alice sobbed, taking a painful step toward him as he retreated. “I want you, Duncan. Please, don’t go. Stay, talk with me as we did before—we can fix this.”

“There is nothing to fix,” he told her, disappearing out into the hall.

Alice stood there, stunned and unable to move until she heard the front door slam violently. Numbly, she looked around the breakfast room, unwilling to believe what had just unfolded. The evidence all lay there before her though, uncaring of her feelings. Duncan’s abandoned plate. His overturned chair. And most important of all, his absence.

He was gone. Not just from the room, but the manor.

This was not like the previous times, when he disappeared at the beginning or when he went off to meetings. This absence had a permanence to it that filled her body with an ache she could not handle. Her legs went numb beneath her, and she crashed to the floor, uncaring of anything but one fact—Duncan was gone.

“Your Grace!” Elena exclaimed, rushing back into the room at the sound of her fall. “Gordon, fetch the physician, quick!”

“No!” Alice exclaimed, some small part of her coming back to life.

She let the maid help her up, and then she numbly smoothed her hands over her skirts and brushed her tears from her cheeks.

“Not the physician, but Rebecca and Mrs. Fletcher,” she instructed, feeling the numbness fill her body. “But don’t send them here. Send them to my rooms. I shall be leaving as soon as I am packed.”

Duncan’s gut churned painfully as he took another long swig of whiskey, but it wasn’t the booze that had made his gut turn sour. Everything in him was screaming to stop the carriage. To have it turn around and go back to Alice. The look on her face when he told her he was leaving had been soul-crushing. It was a look that would haunt his dreams more than the fire ever did.

But it had to be done. He couldn’t keep her safe, as yesterday had proven. She had been right beside him, and he had failed her.

Drowning in his misery, Duncan continued to drink from the bottle of whiskey as he stared blankly out the window. He was so numb, so raw, that he didn’t feel or notice when the carriage had stopped. Even when the door was opened and the driver informed him that he’d been calling for him, he just stared blankly.

“Your Grace!” Germaine’s voice barked, finally breaking through the sound-muting clouds in Duncan’s head.

“Hmm?” Duncan asked, taking another swig of whiskey, not looking at the man.

“We have made it to the outskirts of Larsen, Your Grace,” Germaine informed him. “Where would you like to go now?”

“Backward,” Duncan muttered. To a time before he kissed Alice. Before he knew what happiness could taste like.

“I beg your pardon, Your Grace?” Germaine asked.

“To Bath. Eventually,” Duncan replied hollowly. “But we are in no rush. Take all day if you need to. Take two.”

“Will Her Grace be joining you, Your Grace?” Germaine asked, sounding almost hopeful. “Perhaps it would be better if we wait for her?”

“No,” Duncan stated, feeling another viselike pain flare in his gut again. “She is not coming.”