Chapter Forty-Two

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Later That Night, The Duke of Grovemont’s Study

L ucian paced in front of the windows with Oliver nipping at his heels. A movement outside the window caught his eye, and he moved over to look outside. Was that Southbury’s coach?

There was one sharp rap on the door before it opened and Southbury entered the room.

Lucian frowned. What was his brother-in-law doing here? The truth was that Lucian had been about to pay a call on his friend. Or more correctly, on his wife at his friend’s house.

He’d been preparing his speech all night. He knew he couldn’t just show up and ask Gemma to forgive him or give him another chance without some truly spectacular groveling on his part. He’d been practicing all afternoon. He’d nearly asked Mrs. Howard to give him some ideas.

But now Southbury was here, and his friend looked harried. Had he come to tell Lucian that his sister wanted a divorce? He already knew that. Hell, the whole town knew it because of the papers.

Had Southbury come to discuss the details of the divorce? If so, Lucian would have to explain to him that he intended to win back his wife. He would do whatever he had to. If only Gemma would give him one more chance. Southbury would see reason in that.

Hopefully .

Lucian shook his head. “If you’ve come to tell me?—”

Southbury didn’t let him finish. Instead, he tossed a folded piece of vellum onto the desk. Lucian glanced at it. It was a handwritten note.

“I don’t understand,” Lucian said.

“The note is from my sister saying she’s gone to the countryside,” Southbury explained.

Lucian arched a brow. “So? She’s not with you?” Surprising, but if Gemma wasn’t with him, why was Southbury here?

Southbury hunched over the desk, bracing the knuckles of one hand atop it and pointing at the note with the other. “No, she’s not with me, and there’s a problem with this note.”

Apprehension licked at Lucian’s gut. Damn it. His gut was never wrong. Something bad had happened. “What is it?”

“In this note, Gemma goes on and on about how she cannot wait to get to the countryside because she likes it so much. Fresh air. Trees. It’s practically a poem to the countryside.”

Fuck . Lucian briefly closed his eyes. “Gemma hates the countryside.”

Southbury nodded. “Precisely. Which means?—”

“Something is wrong,” Lucian finished for him, expelling his breath.

“When is the last time you saw her?” Southbury asked.

“She went shopping earlier today. She left a note telling me she was leaving me. I assume you’ve seen the paper.”

“Yes, and this note came not an hour ago. Both seemed odd. Gemma never mentioned a divorce to me. The last time I saw the two of you, you appeared to be happy. And there’s no way she would leave Oliver.”

Lucian glanced at the little brown puppy, who had jumped up on the leather couch near the window and was moving his head back and forth, watching the two men speak as if they were playing a game of battledore and shuttlecock.

Lucian cursed under his breath. Of course, she wouldn’t leave Oliver. He should have realized the moment he’d heard she was gone that Oliver would have been with her had she truly decided to leave. At the time, Lucian had been too blinded by his own stubborn pride to think of it.

He didn’t relish admitting to his brother-in-law that his wife had wanted a divorce, but now there was something about the note she’d left him that didn’t make sense.

Southbury narrowed his eyes. “Do you still have the note she left you?”

“Wait here.” Lucian left the room. By the time he made it to the staircase in the foyer, he was so worried that he took the stairs two at a time. He’d assumed Gemma was with her brother and been so sure of it that he hadn’t even bothered to confirm it. But now that Southbury was here…the sick feeling that had begun in Lucian’s middle earlier was spreading throughout his body, making him numb with fear. Dear God. What if he’d made a mistake? What if Gemma hadn’t left on her own accord? There could only be one reason Southbury wanted to see the note Gemma had left for Lucian.

He pushed open the door to his bedchamber and made his way to the fireplace with ground-devouring strides. The note was still there. Thank God. He’d never been more relieved to have missed a toss in his life. He grabbed the small ball of vellum lying off to the side and hurried back down to the study, smoothing it out along the way.

Once he re-entered the room, he strode over and pushed the piece of paper onto the desk in front of his brother-in-law.

Southbury studied the scrap for a few moments. “This isn’t her handwriting.”

Lucian cursed under his breath. He wouldn’t know his wife’s handwriting because he’d never written her. God damn it. “You’re certain?”

“Positive. She must be in trouble.” Southbury shook his head and narrowed his eyes. “But who would do something to her?”

Lucian’s hands curled into tight fists. “ I know who .”