Chapter 23

“He had better be in here, or I swear to all that is holy that I will rip this country to pieces,” Ambrose snarled, stomping toward the one place they’d yet to look for Duncan.

“Ambrose, old boy,” Morgan huffed, struggling to keep up with him, “perhaps we should take a steadying breath before going inside.”

“Let him go, Morgan,” Ezra called, walking slowly far behind them. “This stubbornness has gone on far enough. Maybe what the man needs is a good cuffing.”

It was an expletive-filled letter from Alice’s friend, Barbara, to Morgan that had alerted the three of them to Duncan’s abandonment. Since receiving it, they had checked his estate in London, the manor in Baxter, the country estate in Bath, and even checked at Thomas and Camilla’s to see if he had hidden away there. The hunting cabin owned by Ambrose’s late father was the last place on their list.

It was more than decrepit now and buried deep into the wooded side of the country, but it was a place that the four of them had often escaped to during their summers off from Oxford.

Duncan heard his friends’ muffled voices as they neared the cabin but made no move to hide himself. Not that he could. With a steady diet of whiskey and cigars over the last four days, he could barely breathe, let alone stand.

“I am going to throttle you within an inch of your life,” Ambrose growled after kicking in the cabin’s brittle door.

“Good,” was all Duncan was able to mutter before he was roughly grabbed by the collar of his shirt and hauled to his feet.

The world spun around him as his stomach revolted, and he felt bile rise in his throat.

“Jesus,” Ambrose snarled with disgust, shoving him away as he looked down at his ruined shirt.

Unable to stand on his own, Duncan fell back down, missing the chair altogether and landing hard on the floor.

“Oh, bloody hell,” he heard Morgan mutter as the man rushed inside a moment later. “I told you not to kill him!”

“I didn’t even get a chance to try,” Ambrose hissed, pulling the acrid-smelling jacket off him with disgust. “The bastard’s got himself so drunk that he can’t even stand.”

“Christ, this smells,” he added, peeling off his ruined shirt next. “I can’t take it, I’m going to go wash off in the creek. Make sure he doesn’t die while I’m gone.”

Duncan heard Ambrose’s quick footsteps as he left the cabin.

“Satan’s piss, what the bloody hell is that smell?” Ezra’s voice sounded next, announcing his presence.

“Oh, good,” Duncan slurred, forcing his head up. “The three musketeers have arrived yet again.”

“And you’re right lucky about that,” Ezra shot back in a rare show of emotion.

“It’s him,” Morgan scoffed, nodding down toward Duncan to answer Ezra’s question. “I don’t think he’s had anything but whiskey for days. It’s coming out of his skin, for heaven’s sake.”

“When’s the last time you had a wash, mate?” Ezra asked, hunkering down near Duncan.

“What day is it?” Duncan slurred.

“Monday,” Morgan answered warily.

Duncan grunted. “Then I cannot remember.”

He raised the whiskey bottle back to his lips again, barely able to lift it, but Ezra’s hand wrapped around it in a second, yanking it away from him harshly. He then stood up and threw it savagely into the fireplace, shattering it to pieces.

“Yeah, mate, we’re not going to keep doing that,” Ezra told him matter-of-factly, turning back toward him as if nothing had happened.

Duncan lunged forward, trying to get the already broken bottle back, and would have fallen on his face if Morgan had not caught him at the last second.

“Definitely not,” Morgan agreed, righting him. “I’m all for having a good drowning session when it comes to sorrows, but this is a bit much, don’t you think? You’ve got your entire house worried. From what Barbara told me, Alice is a wreck. She won’t set foot in Baxter again. The servants have no idea what to do. I’m told Alice is drinking as much as you?—”

“What about Alice?” Duncan asked, feeling his entire body respond to the mention of his wife’s name.

“You don’t get to ask about her yet,” Ambrose spat, walking back into the cabin, wet from his quick dip. He was clearly still seething with anger, but he at least seemed a bit more composed.

Duncan hung his head like a punished dog, unable to argue that fact.

“So, here is what is going to happen,” Ambrose continued as he began to pick up the empty bottles of whiskey littering the floor. “We’re going to get you in the creek and wash that disgusting smell off you, then we’re going to sober you up. After that, you’re going to tell us what the hell happened, and you will be honest, Duncan, or so help me God, and then maybe, maybe, I will let you ask about the wife you abandoned.”

His words cut through Duncan like a knife, but it was a wound he greatly deserved.

“I think this is a much better alternative than the beating you were going to give him,” Morgan chirped as he and Ezra helped Duncan back up to his feet.

“Don’t count it out yet,” Ambrose bit out, following them outside.

“I deserve it,” Duncan slurred.

“Damn right you do,” Ambrose snarled. “But your wife needs you in one piece.”

Later That Night

“How did you find me?” Duncan asked, looking at his three friends sitting across from him.

His head was pounding with one hellish hangover, and his body was starting to go into alcohol withdrawal, but despite it all, he was beginning to feel a little more clear-headed.

His friends had done what Ambrose promised, and when he was thrust into the freezing creek, it shocked him back to full consciousness. After scrubbing the filth off of him, Ezra returned with four quails, and they roasted them over the cabin’s fireplace. It was the first real food Duncan had eaten in days, and he had picked the meat completely off the bone within minutes.

Afterward, he downed almost an entire bucket of water. His confession came spilling out shortly after, letting his friends know what had happened and why he had left.

“You really thought we wouldn’t?” Morgan asked with a chuckle. “Come on, old boy, this is nothing. Remember when the three of you had to go all the way to Italy to get me?”

“Or when Ezra got caught with that lovely Russian countess in Austria,” Ambrose scoffed, looking over at their stoic friend.

“She was worth it,” Ezra argued, clearly feeling no guilt over his sinful adventure.

Duncan scoffed and shook his head.

“We’ve all done stupid things, Duncan,” Ambrose told him, much calmer now. “The point is that we always make sure we don’t go through it alone.”

“Please,” Duncan pleaded, unable to take the avoidance anymore, “tell me about Alice. Where is she? Is she all right?”

“Take a look at yourself, and you’ll have your answer, mate,” Morgan told him, giving him a quick once-over.

“She’s back at Hillburn Estate,” Ezra said, answering his other question. “Her sisters and her friend wouldn’t let any of us speak with her, but Lydia was happy to inform us that her sister’s ruin was all your fault.”

I know it is.

Duncan hung his head in shame.

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself, mate,” Ambrose urged. “Letting this fear consume you like this. Don’t you see that it takes more from you than anything else?”

“I cannot lose her if I do not have her,” Duncan retorted.

“Right, mate,” Ezra sighed, rising from his seat.

He calmly unbuttoned the front of his jacket, then, as he was acting as if he were fiddling with his sleeve, he drew his hand back and slapped Duncan sharply across the face.

“Bloody Hell,” Duncan snapped, the force of the slap nearly knocking him off his chair.

“Had to be done,” Ezra replied diplomatically, calmly re-buttoning his jacket before sitting back down. “That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, old boy,” he continued. “Life is full ofrisks. It’s how we make our money, how we help our people, and live up to their expectations. This fear of losing everything is causing a twisted self-fulfilling prophecy, and your acting like this is only feeding into it.”

“I need to go to her,” Duncan stated, feeling his fears and self-pity slide off him like sludge. “I have handled this wrong, all wrong from the start. The minute I first saw her, I knew how special she was. How different from everyone else in our boring world. I should have treated her like the precious gem she is from the moment I kissed her lips and knew she was mine. But I will make this right for both of us. She will know that my feelings for her are real, and will be shown all that she deserves.”

He spoke the words as gravely as a mystique would speak a prophecy. He’d gotten trapped in his head. Yet again. But this was going to be the last time he let it happen.

“That’s more like it,” Morgan encouraged cheerfully.

“You can,” Ambrose assured him quickly. “But not right now. For the time being, let’s get you home and give the whiskey a chance to work itself out of your system. Another bath and a good shave wouldn’t hurt either.”

“I suppose I look downright miserable,” Duncan admitted.

He didn’t like the idea of staying away from Alice any more than he already had, but his friends had a point. The creek had helped wash off most of the stench, but he needed to sweat the rest of the whiskey out and come back to himself. If he was going to beg for forgiveness, he would need to look like someone worth forgiving.

“Let’s head to Baxter then,” he said, rising from his chair.

It was nearly midnight now, and they had a long walk through the woods to get back to their horses. Still, no one protested. Instead, the four of them filed out of the cabin with two oil lamps to light their path, and made their way through the darkness