Prologue

Lucian paced up and down the room, sweat dripping down his back as he waited for news. He wanted to go find her, wanted to be a part of those searching in the dark but his broken arm and twisted shoulder prevented him from doing so. The surgeon had been sent for and yes, Lucian was in a good deal of pain, but all the same, he could not help but pace, desperate to hear that she was safe.

I still do not understand what happened.

He had been riding back to his estate, Strathmore Hall, with his betrothed, Lady Pearl, riding alongside him. He had been a little uncertain as to whether or not she ought to be doing so but she had been determined – something that had surprised him just a little though she always had been ready with her own opinion and the like. She had insisted on riding, despite the fact that the evening was already growing dark. Any protest that Lucian might have made faded when he had seen the smile on her face and the light in her eyes at the thought of spending that time with him. It had been the first time since their courtship and betrothal that she had shown such an interest and given, that Lucian had chosen to relent. There had been the concern about a chaperone, of course, but somehow, Lady Pearl had convinced her brother that nothing untoward would occur. Maybe it was because Lucian held such a high title or because they were already betrothed, he did not know, but there had been no protest made. How much he wished, now, that there had been! How much he hated himself for agreeing to her riding with him! Had he known that this would occur, had he imagined for even a moment that she might be lost to him, then he would never have accepted her request to ride.

“Your Grace.”

The door opened and Lucian turned quickly, only for the butler to usher in the surgeon.

“Is there any news?” Lucian demanded, as the surgeon walked directly towards him, gesturing for him to sit down as though he were a small child and not, in fact, the Duke of Strathmore. “I must know!”

“There is nothing, Your Grace.” The butler inclined his head in deference. “I will return the moment I hear anything; I assure you.”

“If you would sit down, Your Grace.”

Lucian threw up his hands. “How am I to sit down when my betrothed is missing?”

The surgeon lifted one eyebrow. “I am aware that you are in a great struggle of mind, Your Grace, but refusing to let me see your arm and your shoulder will do nothing other than injure you further.” The man was only a little older than Lucian but the sternness of his voice and the sharp glint in his eye made Lucian feel as though he was being berated by a father figure of some sort. “I understand that you wish to go in search of your betrothed but you will not be able to do so if I do not make certain that your arm and shoulder are not damaged beyond repair.”

“My arm is broken; I am sure of it.” Lucian gritted his teeth as he sat down, pain sparking through his fingers and wrist as the surgeon prodded it.

“A fracture, I think, which is just as well for a broken bone is a very serious matter, Your Grace.” The surgeon looked back at Lucian steadily. “This will be painful, but it is necessary.”

Lucian looked away. “Do what you must. My only thought is of her.” He said this with full determination, but all the same his whole body cried out in agony as the surgeon tugged this way and that, doing what he seemed to feel he had to, in order to improve the fracture. Squeezing his eyes closed and refusing to make a sound, Lucian sucked in a breath, only for the pain to lessen just a little.

“A sling, Your Grace.”

With practiced hands, the surgeon pulled out a length of cloth and fashioned it in a way which meant it could then loop around Lucian’s neck before carefully placing Lucian’s arm within it. His whole arm was throbbing with a deep and unrelenting agony but Lucian said nothing, resisting the urge to throw off the sling and tell the surgeon he needed no such thing. His mind was filled with thoughts of his betrothed, terrified that she would not be found, praying against his fear that she would be gone from him forever.

“Your shoulder?”

“Dislocated,” Lucian muttered, as the surgeons rose to his feet to, again, press and prod Lucian’s injury. “I dislocated it once before, when I was a child, so I knew what had to be done.”

“And you did it yourself?” The surgeon asked, sounding a little astonished. “There is no dislocation here that I can see.” With practiced fingers, the surgeon ran over Lucian’s shoulder, squeezing here and there as Lucian nodded but said nothing.

“And might I ask how these injuries came about? The only thing I have heard is that you came off your horse.”

“Yes, that is so.” Lucian swallowed tightly, his heart thumping furiously as he recalled it. “My betrothed and I were riding back to the estate from London, as we are only five miles from it.” He paused, his breath catching. “When we came to a break in the road, she teasingly told me that she would take the left path and I would take the right. I knew it well enough to know that it combines a short while later though I did tell her it was not a wise idea but she was already gone before I could finish speaking.” Pain struck him, hard. “I – I heard a scream and my horse, being spooked by the noise, threw me unexpectedly.”

The surgeon nodded slowly. “I see. Is your betrothed injured in some way? Do I need to go and see her also?”

“They cannot find her.” Lucian’s voice cracked as he looked away from the surgeon, finding his gaze a little too prying. “I went in search of her at first, of course, but all I could find was her horse.”

The surgeon’s eyebrows lifted.

“Eventually, I went in search of help,” Lucian continued, not quite certain why he was telling the surgeon all of this but finding the need to speak openly regardless. “I knew that she had to be nearby and I could not – cannot – understand where she might have gone or what could have happened to her. My close friend and neighbour, the Marquess of Radcliffe, came to organize the search and then demanded I return home to be cared for. It is because of him that I am here, though I fully intend to return back to the search the moment I am freed from you.”

A sigh came from the surgeon’s lips. “It might be highwaymen or robbers, Your Grace.”

“Robbers?” A chill ran across Lucian’s skin. “Near my estate?”

The surgeon nodded, his gaze going across Lucian’s arm and shoulder, as though to make certain that what he had done would be good enough. “I am afraid so, Your Grace. I have heard that there are many prowling around these days, though I do not know why they have stopped here.”

Lucian closed his eyes, a dreadful shaking suddenly overpowering his whole body. Whether it was shock or the sudden realization that his betrothed might now be caught up by robbers, defenseless against their strength, he did not know but he could not stop it.

“Your Grace,” the surgeon continued, now sounding a little more urgent as though he had realized what his words had done and now regretted them. “I am sure that I am quite wrong, however. There is no reason why a highwayman would stop the lady rather than the gentleman – or why they would stop only the lady. I am sure that –”

A knock at the door stopped the man’s words and Lucian flung himself out of his seat, barreling across the room and pulling open the door, breathing hard as he gazed into the face of the butler. “Yes?”

“Lord Radcliffe, Your Grace.” The butler stepped to one side. “And Mr. Grant, the gamekeeper.”

Lucian grasped Lord Radcliffe’s hand the moment his friend stepped in. “Radcliffe,” he breathed, looking into his friend’s face, searching for answers. “Thank you for all you have done. Is there any news?”

Lord Radcliffe’s grey eyes seemed darker now, shadows flickering there. “My friend,” he said, quietly, “you should sit down, I think.”

Lucian closed his eyes tightly, understanding now while there was news, it could not be good. “Tell me, Radcliffe. Tell me now.”

His friend hesitated, then sighed. “We found a ribbon tangled in some branches,” he said, speaking quietly and slowly. “And a shoe.”

Hearing this, Lucian’s eyes sprang open. “A shoe? Where?”

Lord Radcliffe took in a long breath, shaking his head as he did so, his eyes squeezing closed. “At the cliffs.”

Lucian sucked in a breath, his head spinning, his heart pounding as he swallowed hard, over and over again. One hand went to Lord Radcliffe’s shoulder, gripping there as he tried to steady himself, but his friend merely guided him to a seat rather than letting him linger. Somehow, Lucian found himself sitting in his overstuffed chair with a glass of brandy in his hand, a coldness creeping into his very bones as he stared blankly ahead.

The cliffs were near his estate, a place where he had often walked or taken a ride on the days he wanted to be out in the clean, crisp air of the sea. They were steep, however, and filled with dangers and thus, he had always kept himself back from them for there was nothing but death waiting at the bottom.

Death which, it seemed, had now taken his betrothed.

“I am sorry, Your Grace.” The surgeon’s voice seemed to come from very far away as Lucian lifted his gaze to stare back at the man, seeing how he shook his head. “I shall excuse myself now and give you the time you require. Mayhap I shall leave a little laudanum with your butler, should your require it.”

Lucian could not say yes or no, such was the weight in his heart. He let out a breath and felt his chest aching, his eyes now burning hot. His breathing grew quicker now, more ragged as he tried to take in what his friend was saying, accepting the reality that he would never see Lady Pearl again. There had not been any great love between them but that sensation had begun to take hold of Lucian of late, though he could not have spoken for her. To lose her now, when his heart had only just begun to take a hold of her and clasp her to himself, was truly devastating.

And it is all my fault.

“It is not your fault.”

Lucian’s head jerked up, not realizing that he had spoken aloud.

“You encouraged her not to ride with you,” his friend said, gently though there was a twist of firmness through his voice. “Her brother agreed to let her do so, despite the dangers of which every traveler is aware. You cannot blame yourself for this.”

Lucian’s throat ached as he spoke, his voice rough and grating. “I should never have permitted her. It was my affection for her which made me weak – and now, some dreadful accident has occurred and she is lost to the sea… forever.” Closing his eyes, he fought the tears which burned there, just as guilt struck hard at his soul. “I have been weak and foolish and she has paid the price.”

“It was not your fault,” his friend said again, all the more firmly. “No doubt some dark and dangerous men were lying in wait, saw their opportunity and took from her what they could. I do not know if their intention was to do as they did in the end but all the same, none of this responsibility lies with you.”

Lucian shook his head again, refusing to believe it. “No. I will take the blame for this,” he said, heavily, his shoulders rounding as he dropped his head. “I do not know why I have escaped and she had to be the one who suffered, but I would give anything, do anything, to take her place.”

“Do not say that,” Lord Radcliffe began, but Lucian closed his eyes, threw back his brandy and then cut through the air between them both with one hand, silencing his friend.

“I will not be persuaded,” he said, a little throatily still. “I am to blame. I will accept that without hesitation and nothing you can say or do, my friend, will ever change my belief in that.”