Chapter 14

Margaret watched Helen from her place at the doorway, her heart clenching in pity. The poor girl was a shadow of herself, and it was a testament to how deeply she had been hurt that Helen, who had always loved the outdoors and was so full of life, spent her days sitting by the windowsill, staring off into the distance. Margaret was willing to bet that those eyes saw nothing. She recognized that gaze, and she should know as she herself had spent months with that look in her eyes. Helen was overthinking and always lost in thought, and it hurt Margaret's heart to see her sister this way.

That day, a week ago, when she had looked out the window and saw the carriage bearing the crest of the Duke of Blackhill, Margaret had been elated, thinking that the ducal couple must have concluded their honeymoon early and had come for a visit. She had really missed her sister more than she thought possible, her marriage being the first time they had lived apart as siblings. Margaret was elated to have the opportunity to see her sister again. She rushed down the staircase in a decidedly unladylike manner, but in her excitement, she didn't particularly care.

By the time the carriage stopped in front of their manor, Margaret was already waiting in front of the house. The moment the carriage doors opened and her sister was handed down by the footman, she knew something was wrong, and her excited smile dimmed a little.

Helen looked drawn, her face and manner completely lacking the usual glow seen in newlyweds. The fact that there was no sign of the Duke further drove in that something was horribly wrong.

When Helen strolled towards her, Margaret opened her mouth to ask her what happened but promptly closed it when Helen collapsed in her arms, weeping loudly. That was a very rare occurrence in recent years.

Margaret had always known her sister to be the strong one. Yes, Helen was the younger daughter, but she possessed emotional intelligence beyond her years. She was the only one who stood by Margaret's side when she broke into pieces in the previous year. But it appeared that husband of hers had succeeded in achieving the impossible by breaking her strong sister into pieces.

She had warned him, Margaret thought angrily.

She was going to confront him eventually after she helped Helen mend. In the meantime, she held Helen close until her heart-rending cries subsided to sobs and hiccups, after which Margaret guided her to her old bedroom and tucked her in. Helen promptly fell asleep.

Margaret understood her exhaustion. She should know what an emotional wound felt like. She had just recently healed, so she understood that Helen would require peace and quiet and a hearty dose of familial love in order to recover.

Helen slept through the night, but in subsequent days, she had kept to her room, refusing to come below stairs to join them for their meals. Margaret made sure that a tray was always sent up to her, and she sat beside her throughout to make sure Helen ate because she always claimed that she didn't have an appetite.

But Margaret vowed that she was never going to let her only sister starve to death simply because of the fickle whims of a man. Helen had kept quiet about the reasons why she had returned, but Margaret knew there was nothing on Earth that was capable of making Helen this way apart from the Duke she had married.

As Margaret watched her, she decided that it was time now to push a little in order to gain better returns. She had been handling Helen with kid gloves because she wanted to avoid pushing too hard too soon, but it was now time for the tough kind of love. She walked into the room, and the fact that Helen didn't turn to acknowledge her presence showed Margaret that her sister's mind was very far away.

Helen was obviously lost in thought, probably thoughts that had something to do with her returning home.

"Helen," Margaret called, tapping her shoulder lightly. "How are you doing?" she asked when Helen turned to look at her with tired eyes.

"I am quite well, Margaret," Helen answered, forcing a smile. "Are you done having breakfast?"

"I think I should be asking you that, since you left your food untouched," Margaret observed, gesturing to the table, where a tray containing a covered meal sat untouched.

"I am not hungry. Don't worry about me. I am fine," Helen said, smiling tightly.

"You are not fine, and we both know it. You returned from your matrimonial home a fortnight ago, and every day you sit at that window, staring off into the distance. We are your family, and we will always welcome you when you come, but you need to tell us what is wrong, so we can help you. You are becoming a shadow of yourself, and frankly, it breaks my heart to see you this way."

"I will be fine. Do not worry about me," Helen replied and looked away, back to the window.

"I'll take a card out of your book then," Margaret said with a determined tilt to her chin. "If you will not tell me, I could just go confront that husband of yours because I could bet my last coin that he is the root cause of all this… hopelessness." Her voice rose in anger.

That got Helen's attention, and she turned back to Margaret, giving her full attention.

"You will do no such thing, Sister. Alexander has nothing to do with this," she said in a raspy voice, the clear proof of many days of disuse.

"Then who did this to you?" Margaret asked in a mellow voice.

"I did this to myself," Helen replied, looking up at Margaret, her eyes filled with tears. "I made the mistake of falling in love with the Duke, so I don't really have the right to cry and complain when I found out that he had no romantic feelings towards me."

"He did warn me that our marriage was one of convenience, but somehow, I believed that in time he would come to love me at least half as much as I came to love him, but I was wrong, and it hurts so much. Maggie, it hurts a lot," she said, dissolving into more sobs.

Margaret drew her sister to her chest and held her while she cried. Unrequited love was simply the worst. She should know after pining after George for the better part of one year. The heart could be foolish that way, but she believed that her sister's situation was better because she definitely did not believe that the Duke held no feelings for Helen. The man was already halfway in love with Helen even before the wedding, if the calf-eyed looks he gave her when he thought no one was looking was any indication. But then, it was common knowledge that men could be quite daft sometimes, unable to see what was right before them.

It was quite unfortunate that both of them had to go through heartbreak so early in life, and Margaret really thought it was time that they took some time away from London, the Season, and the men to find themselves and recuperate. She knew the perfect place that guaranteed peace, quiet, and maybe a little magic for new beginnings.

When her sobs had subsided, Helen pulled away, wiping her tears she apologized.

"I'm so sorry, Maggie, for blubbering all over you like a little child," she mumbled with a rueful smile.

"Do not worry about it. What are sisters for? Besides, we have really been through a lot at the hands of men. And you looked after me while I mourned my broken engagement with George. As someone who has been through the heartbreak of the romantic sort, I think it was terrible to waste much time dwelling on it. You will lose so much time that way. I don't know about you, but I would rather use that time to find happiness for myself. Besides, I think with everything that happened this year, we deserve a break. What do you say we go visit Grandma Agnes in the Highlands?"

"Really?" Helen asked, her face brightening up with a smile. "It has been so long since we last visited. I really miss her a lot. I would love to see her," she said in excitement.

Agnes was their maternal grandmother and their only living grandparent who'd spoilt them silly after their mother had passed. They hadn't seen her since she withdrew from London to the estate her late husband had gifted her in Scotland.

"He hated me so much that he wanted me to get as far away from him as possible," she used to say when they discussed her moving there, but they knew her words held no heat, as the two were madly in love with each other, which then turned into a friendship before his passing.

"Yes, I am sure she would love to have us as well," Margaret replied, happy to see that Helen was gradually returning to her cheerful self. "She had sent several invitations over the past year, but between the Season and everything else that happened over this year, it thoroughly escaped my notice. I think that this is as good a time as any to set out on an adventure," she said, intoning the last word theatrically.

Helen chuckled in response.

Margaret smiled back in happiness. Maybe there was hope still of getting cheerful Helen back. Hopefully, by the time they returned, the rock-headed Duke who married her sister would have come to his senses.

* * *

Alexander had felt the profound pain of loss once when he had lost his mother, and it became clear to him that he was alone in the world despite having several family members. When his father had died and his stepfamily had abandoned him, rather than feeling a sense of loss, he had felt relief to be free of their tyranny.

But the feeling he experienced this time felt even worse than that long-forgotten feeling of loss. It felt like a limb had been cut off from his body, the wound fresh and unhealing. It had taken days of him being completely distracted and unproductive for him to accept the truth. He, the Fifth Duke of Blackhill, nicknamed the Ruthless Duke, was in fact missing his wife.

He missed her presence, her laughter and bright aura that enlivened the cold walls of the Blackhill castle, and her enthusiasm and mischievous smile. He missed the feeling of her skin beneath his fingers and her haunting scent and the taste of her lips. He was addicted to Helen, and he was finding it difficult to recover from the withdrawal.

Since the day she had left, he had become unable to perform his duties. Reading and replying to correspondence had become a daunting task he avoided with everything in him. Any sound of carriages around his estate had him hurrying to the window just in case she had decided to return home.

He downed whisky in the hopes of dulling the pain in his chest, but it only made matters, since he woke up in the morning with even worse pain and a splitting headache. He was a mess and wondered how on earth he had survived without her because it seemed now that he had gotten the taste of what it felt like to have her in his life—he could no longer live without her.

He didn't need anyone else to confirm what he knew. He loved her, and she loved him, and it was that love that he'd been too scared to see that had led to her leaving him behind. His little wife was selfless in that manner. She'd have left him just to keep herself from suffocating him with her feelings.

That should have felt surprising, but it felt relieving to admit it to himself. He suspected he had started the free fall of love the moment he had gone to the Ludlow house to ask for her hand in marriage and seen the spitfire she truly was, and every day with her only fanned the flames of that love.

It was little wonder he had become scared with the increasing intensity of his feelings. The more he fell for her, the more he became vulnerable, and for someone who had lived behind emotional walls most of his life, it was a scary thing to be so exposed. So, he had pretended that he felt nothing, hoping he could suppress such feelings to death. He had allowed Helen to leave him, and now he was miserable.

It was quite clear to him that he had to go back to Helen and tell her about the love in his heart and beg her to return to him, as she was the only thing he needed to feel the peace he'd secretly longed for all his life. No longer would he suffer just to appease his ego.

Helen had stolen his heart one heart-stopping smile at a time, so it was foolish to pretend he was still in possession of it. He was going to confess to her and perhaps persuade her to give him her heart again in return.

Having made the decision, he felt more energized than he had in a while, and he was preparing to head to the Honeyfield townhouse when a knock sounded at the door. When he answered, the door opened to reveal his butler.

His butler looked around at the mess that was his study without batting an eyelid, but then butlers were renowned for their perfect composure.

"Lord Nathaniel Osbourne to see you, Your Grace."

At that name, Alexander's hopes, which were taking a positive turn, fell back to the pit of his stomach.

What the hell could he possibly want now?

Squaring his shoulders, he answered his butler. "Show him in."

Nathaniel walked in, dressed fully in a way that identified him as one of Society's dandies. He always made sure he followed the times and trends whenever he was in London, regardless of the availability of money. It seemed with his family, it was just as they said: someone else's money was much easier to spend.

Once he poked his head through the door, his nostrils flared, and his face contorted in disgust. Alexander didn't blame him. He had most likely been hit by the odor of alcohol and the state of disarray the study was in.

"You look like hell," Nathaniel said, walking towards the desk where his brother sat.

Alexander shrugged. He did feel like a mess. "To what do I owe the displeasure of your visit?"

"Ha ha, Brother. You're always so happy to see me."

At Alexander's raised eyebrow, Nathaniel sighed. "You're no fun," he complained. "I came to thank you on Mother's and Sophia's behalf for attending the wedding. I have always thought you were not the familial man, but you proved me wrong."

"Please elaborate," Alexander said sarcastically.

"Why, I don't think you needed to send your wife all the way to Scotland just to punish her for her outburst at the wedding breakfast," Nathaniel answered so honestly that Alexander was confused. "Thank you for standing up for your family."

"Scotland?" Alexander asked, confused.

Could he have treated Helen so badly that she had decided to leave London entirely just to avoid him?

"From the look on your face, I think it is safe to assume that you know nothing of your wife's flight. It seems like your wife discovered your cold, calculating tendencies and decided to run for her life. I would have done the same if I were her."

Hooking a foot into a chair, Nathanial pulled it to himself and sat. "You have always been the architect of your problems, and it seems you have successfully sent your wife, the one person who tolerated your bad behavior, away. I guess she could always find better men in the Highlands. I have heard that the men who live there are virile and quite protective of their females. I do see the appeal," he continued with a taunting smile.

At that, Alexander's vision turned red, and he slammed a hand heavily on the oak desk, causing Nathaniel to jump in fright. Then, drawing himself to his full height, he placed both hands on the desk, making sure to crowd Nathaniel.

Dropping his voice to a menacing growl, he spat, "You know nothing about me, Nathaniel."

"Oh, I believe I know plenty," his brother answered, glaring. "You kicked us out of our family castle the second Father died and then put us on a measly monthly allowance as though we weren't even related. Is that something family does?"

"I never kicked you out. Your mother took you all and left, and your allowance is what my father stipulated before his demise."

"You're lying!" Nathaniel spat angrily. "Mother said?—"

"Your mother is the liar here," Alexander growled. "It is I who has been unfairly treated all this while, and that is worthy of an apology."

"You're lying," Nathaniel said again, although his voice shook as though he didn't know what he believed.

"And I would warn you to tame your tongue where my wife is concerned. The next time I hear you so much as breathe her name wrongly, I will cut off your allowance faster than you can blink."

"You cannot—" Nathaniel protested.

"I can, and I will. Believe me." Alexander gave a dark chuckle. "I will not warn you anymore." Then rising to his full height, he gestured to the door. "I would appreciate it if you took your leave. I have some urgent matters to attend to, but first, you have a cottage Father assigned to you outside of London. Sell it to me, and I'll pay you double its worth."

Nathaniel's frown deepened as he considered the offer. "All right."

Alexander brought up the document that had been sitting in his drawer for a while. He'd been maintaining the cottage since he discovered its presence and had made plans to purchase it from his brother, who would be so desperate for money that he wouldn't care to know the actual cost of the property.

Nathaniel signed reluctantly and then stood up to leave, walking out of the room with a sullen look on his face. Alexander knew there would definitely be a long conversation between him and his mother, but there were some truths that needed to be told.

Once Alexander heard Nathaniel's carriage leave the castle grounds, he sent for his man of affairs and gave instructions for him to handle all the work he wouldn't be around for, as he'd be taking time off to spend with his wife.

"Your Grace, don't you want to—" the man said, indicating his state of undress.

"I do not have the time."

It took a lot of work to make Alexander relatively presentable, considering that he had neglected his appearance for quite some time, but the man with his incredible grooming skills had Alexander looking his best in record time. All that work was lost when he mounted his horse as if the devil was on his heels and raced to the Honeyfield townhouse. He was sincerely hoping Nathaniel had been lying about his wife's journey.

When he got to the Honeyfield townhouse, he knocked, and the old butler he recognized from the few times visiting Helen opened the door, but instead of a smile, the man was giving him a look of disgust usually reserved for scum scraped from under his shoe.

Alexander guessed he deserved that after his horrible treatment of Helen.

"Is the Viscount in?" he asked with as much dignity as he could muster, considering his appearance.

"Yes, Your Grace." The butler bowed, remembering his manners. "He is in his study."

"Please announce my presence to him."

Alexander was ushered in quickly and led to the salon, where everything had started. He was bombarded by images of the things that had happened between him and Helen in this room. He could almost feel the rage coming off her in waves, and he smiled at the fact they'd come a long way from then.

In a few minutes, the butler returned to usher him to the Viscount's study. Alexander knocked, and at the Viscount's answer, he walked in. The Viscount made to stand up, but Alexander waved him off.

"No need to stand on my account—we are family, after all."

The Viscount shot him a disbelieving glance. Alexander couldn't quite settle down, so he paced the study, feeling the cool weight of the Viscount's stare on him.

"I came to see my wife," he said, turning suddenly to meet the Viscount's eyes.

"The Duchess is not here, Your Grace."

"Then where is she?"

"I believe she went with her sister to visit their grandmother. They left about an hour ago, in fact," the Viscount answered flatly, a thread of anger in his voice.

"Where?" Alexander asked quietly

"Scotland."

It seemed Nathaniel was right, but then Alexander was ready to chase his wife to the ends of the earth. He was going to get her back no matter what happened. He loved her too much to just let her go.

"But I can't let you go to her," the Viscount said, rising from his seat. "Not after how much you hurt her."

"My Lord, you are mistaken. I?—"

"I gave you my shining star of a daughter, and she came back to me a wilted flower. Now you are back for her? I cannot allow that."

"I didn't leave her. She left me," Alexander explained, his feet itching to be on his way to bring his wife back to their home.

The more he was delayed here, the further she was sure to have gone.

"For good reason, I'm sure," the Viscount spat. "Do not think I do not know the rumors about you. You must have hurt my daughter in some way for her to?—"

"I am sick and tired of the ton and their silly talk. I have never once done any of the things they'd accused me of, yet those foolish things hang over me like a dark cloud," Alexander yelled as his hands shook with rage. "I have lived under that cloud since I was a boy, and now I'm a man, and you all expect me to continue? Do you all never seek to know the truth? Helen was right in telling me to speak up because I keep letting the real villains get away with all the evil they've perpetrated, but no more. I'm going to find my wife and tell her I love her, and so help me God, if you try to stop me…"

The Viscount looked taken aback and then broke into a smile. "Give me a moment, and I'll procure a map of the route they're taking."

"All right." Alexander nodded in surprise.

Helen's family, like her, were odd, and it seemed it was the same with their staff, as they shot him looks with proud smiles on their faces. They all seemed to appreciate brutal honesty above all else, and he didn't know how to deal with that.

He'd lost her once by not being honest about how he felt about her, and when he finally found her, he wouldn't make that foolish mistake again.

"Here you go, Your Grace," her father announced, stepping back into the study. "I'll suggest you use one of our finest stallions, as you've run yours ragged in your ride here. I already told my groomsman to saddle him for you."

Alexander laughed and nodded. "I thank you for your kindness."

"I am very happy to see you so in love with my daughter." The Viscount gave a watery smile. "I pray you two have a long, happy life together."

I pray so too.

ButAlexander said nothing as he stepped outside and mounted the horse.

He started his journey down the path and then nudged the horse into a speed that surprised him. It seemed his father-in-law had a good eye for horses. A new deal popped up in his mind, but he pushed it down his list of things to do later.

His primary concern now was finding his wife. After riding for hours, he spotted the carriage bearing her family's seal jostling terribly along the road. Speeding past them, he pulled up near the front, startling the horse and carriage driver.

He heard two feminine squeals from inside the carriage and hoped he hadn't badly hurt them.

"Identify yourself!" the carriage driver yelled.

"You have something of mine in that carriage, and I want it back," Alexander announced.

Indeed, Helen was his, and he'd be damned if he let her go again.