Chapter 27

The Missing Woman

Edwin tried to focus on some of his business accounts. He looked at the numbers in his ledgers, trying to make sense of them, but they all blurred together. Before coming to the study, he had lain awake and was unable to sleep. He wished he had not been so stubborn and had taken Beatrice to his bed.

He sighed and pushed the documents aside. The single candle on the desk flickered, casting a long shadow on his face.

He could not think about the future until he could see the future, and with the scandal circling about London, the future was as blurred as the numbers in his ledgers. All he had to do was prove that Miss Jennings was behind it and then bring her to justice.

No, all I need to do is to take my wife into my arms.

He got up from his desk. He could not concentrate, and that was because all he could think about was Beatrice. He blew out the candle and went straight back to his room. Before approaching the connecting door, he checked that his shirt was neat, and then he knocked on the door.

There was no answer, so he knocked again, a little louder this time. Still, there was no answer. When he knocked for a third time and still got no answer, he worried that something was wrong.

He tentatively opened the door, looking into the darkness.

“Beatrice?” he whispered.

He wished he had brought the candle from his study.

“Beatrice?” he repeated, louder this time.

Still, no answer.

A bad feeling grew in the pit of his stomach. He did not believe she could sleep this soundly, and that could only mean that she had been taken ill. He went to her bed, not calling her name a third time. He leaned down and reached for her.

What he found—or rather did not find—surprised him. He flung back the covers to see that the bed was empty, even in the darkness.

It calmed him momentarily. She was not sick in bed, and nothing bad had happened to her. Yet, she was not in bed, and that brought back his worry. She had come to him before bed and he had rejected her, and now she had disappeared to somewhere else in the manor.

The Duke glanced around the room, just in case she was sitting in the chair or standing by the window, but he didn’t see her. He left the room and made his way through the manor.

He did not know where she had gone, but certain places made sense. She might have gone to the kitchen if she craved something in the middle of the night, or perhaps to the library to read, or to the sitting room to relax.

He did not like that his wife was up alone during the night, but he would find her and comfort her. He wished she had come to his study when she could not sleep.

Edwin did not find his wife in the kitchen, library, or sitting room, nor any of the hallways and corridors in between. He found himself in the empty drawing room, with the intent to go back to her room in case she had retired there.

It was then that he heard someone try to get into the manor through the backdoor.

His mind immediately went to Agnes, and a horrible thought came to his mind. She had ordered someone to come to his estate and take Beatrice from him, just as she thought Beatrice had taken him from her.

Edwin ran to the backdoor. It was not someone entering the manor—they must already have gotten to Beatrice, and now they were leaving with her. He would not let it happen, and once he stopped it, he knew he would be able to trace it back to Agnes, and their problems would be over.

When he got to the door, the handle turned. Edwin pressed himself against the wall so that when the door was opened, he would not be seen. The door swung toward him, and he used his hands to slow it slightly at the end so that it would not hit him.

The intruder pushed the door shut. His eyes widened, and he stifled a cry when he saw Edwin behind him. The Duke grabbed him by the neck and pushed him back against the wall with a thud.

“Who are you!” the Duke demanded.

He pulled back the hood, only to be met with a most surprising sight. There was no man before him, but his wife in men’s clothes. He quickly unhanded her and took a step back.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “Were you running away?”

“What? No!” Beatrice cried.

“And why are you dressed—” Realization dawned on him. They had spoken of it previously. “You snuck out into town, didn’t you?”

“I-I did it for us,” Beatrice stammered out.

“What?” the Duke asked, confounded by the whole thing. “What are you talking about?”

“I know someone whose sister works for Miss Jennings. I thought that if I could find some proof that she was the one who published that article, we could unmask her, and all our problems would go away.”

“I told you I would take care of it,” the Duke gritted out. “I told you I would take care of it, but you obviously don’t trust me at all.”

“No, that is not fair,” Beatrice complained. “I do trust you, and I know you are trying to fix this, but why can’t I help?”

“Why can’t you help?” the Duke scoffed, his blood boiling. “Because this is not helping, is it? And you snuck out! If you wanted to help, you should have told me first, and we could have spoken about it.”

When she had told him about sneaking out in men’s clothing, he had found it amusing. Now that she was doing it while married to him, and with trouble brewing around them, he found it reckless and foolish.

“You would not have let me go out by myself,” Beatrice argued.

“No, I would not have,” the Duke agreed. “It was foolish of you.”

“So, now I am a fool?”

“I didn’t say that. Don’t twist my words, Beatrice. You are not a fool, but you have acted like a fool. I was worried sick when I went to your room and thought something had happened to you. Then I worried you had been kidnapped. Now, I find out you were out alone in London, in the middle of the night. You are a duchess now! If someone had discovered that, they could have kidnapped you and held you for ransom. Or, they could have taken you to have their way with you. And someone is out to get you. Do you really want to be walking around London at night, alone? If something had happened to you, I might never have seen you again. It is a small mercy you were not seen by someone.”

“I…”

The Duke was trying to contain his anger. Between the danger she was already in and the danger she had put herself in, anything could have happened. He was trying to deal with the problem as discreetly as possible, and she could have ruined it all.

“Please tell me you were not seen,” he begged, barely containing himself.

“I… I don’t know,” Beatrice admitted. “There was a moment when I thought someone was watching me, but no one followed me—I am sure of that. I am fine, I promise.”

“You are imprudent and foolhardy,” the Duke snapped. “My goodness, I can’t look at you right now. I assume you were headed to your room? Well, on your way!”

“You don’t have to treat me like a child!” Beatrice shouted.

“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t act like one!” the Duke shouted back.

They stared each other down, both of them angry.

Beatrice was the first to back down. She scoffed and then stormed past him to go up to her room.

She had been a fool, but so had he. He had fooled himself into thinking love might be a good thing. He had been wrong. Love, patience, care, and generosity were all weaknesses. He had thought there was something special between them, but how could there be when they were so different? How could he be with a woman who was so reckless and stubborn?

Edwin took a deep breath and checked the door before he went back upstairs.

When he got to his room, there was silence on the other side of the door. He hoped it would stay that way.