Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Edward paced the length of his study, his mind a whirlwind of worry and frustration. It had been days since Catherine’s disappearance, and he was no closer to finding her. Every lead, every possibility had turned up empty.

Where was she? Why had she left after the night they had shared? Surely, she did not believe him when he claimed that he felt nothing for her? Did she regret it? Questions and fear consumed him, and he sighed before running a hand through his already disheveled hair.

A soft knock at the door interrupted his brooding. “Enter,” he called, hoping against hope that it might be news of Catherine.

Instead, Isabella glided into the room, a stack of papers in her arms. “Darling,” she said, her voice syrupy sweet, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. We really must discuss the wedding arrangements.”

Edward suppressed a sigh. “Isabella, now is hardly the time. Catherine is still missing, and I—”

“Edward,” Isabella interrupted, her tone sharpening slightly, “I understand you’re concerned for your employee, but life must go on. We can’t put everything on hold for a governess who chose to run away.”

The words stung. Despite all that he had told her, despite their difference and despite the heartbreaking realization that they could never be together… it hurt to hear Catherine thought of as an employee. “She’s more than just an employee, Isabella,” he said quietly. “She’s... she’s family.”

Isabella’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “Family? Edward, darling, you barely know the girl. Now, about the guest list…”

But Edward was no longer listening. His mind had drifted to Catherine—her warm smile, her quick wit, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about books or history. How had she become so integral to his life in such a short time?

“Edward? Are you even listening to me?”

He blinked, focusing on Isabella’s irritated face. “I am sorry, Isabella. I’m afraid I’m not in the right frame of mind for wedding planning at the moment. Perhaps we could discuss this another time?”

Isabella’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded stiffly. “Of course. When you’ve... sorted out this governess situation.” She swept out of the room, leaving behind a faint scent of expensive perfume.

Edward sank into his chair, his head in his hands. How had everything become so complicated? He had thought marrying Isabella was the right thing to do — for his family name, for Emily, for the estate. But now...

A timid knock drew his attention. “Come in,” he called wearily.

Emily peeked around the door, her young face etched with concern. “Edward? Are you alright?”

He managed a weak smile for his sister’s benefit. “I’m fine, Em. Just... worried about Miss Winslow.”

Emily entered the study fully, perching on the edge of a chair. “I miss her too,” she said softly. “It’s not the same without her here.”

Edward’s heart clenched at the sadness in his sister’s voice. “I know, Em. I’m doing everything I can to find her.”

Emily was quiet for a moment, fidgeting with the hem of her dress. “Edward,” she began hesitantly, “don’t you think Lady Isabella is... well, rather grand for our quiet life here?”

Edward’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “I thought you liked Isabella. You seemed impressed by her the other night at dinner.”

“Oh, I am,” Emily said quickly. “She’s very glamorous and sophisticated. But...” She trailed off, biting her lip.

“But what, Em?”

“But she’s not Miss Winslow,” Emily finished in a rush. “Miss Winslow feels like... like family. Like she belongs here with us.”

Edward felt a lump form in his throat. “Emily,” he said gently, “you know Miss Winslow can’t really be family. She’s—”

“Why not?” Emily interrupted, a hint of defiance in her voice. “You’re the Earl of Wessex, Edward. You’ve rejected society for years. Why can’t you do what you want now?”

Edward was struck speechless by his sister’s words. Had he really become so bound by convention, by what he thought was expected of him?

“It’s not that simple, Em,” he said finally, though the words felt hollow even to his own ears.

Emily stood, her young face uncharacteristically serious. “Maybe it is, Edward. Maybe you’re just making it complicated.”

As she left the study, Edward found himself once again lost in thought. Emily’s words echoed in his mind, challenging everything he thought he knew about duty and happiness.

With a sudden burst of energy, Edward rose from his chair. He needed to try again, to search every possible place Catherine might be. And he knew where she’d want to go—despite the vehement denial from the Ashdown girls, he was certain she was there. This time, however, he would not be satisfied with a denial.

He wanted proof.

The ride to the Ashdown estate seemed to take an eternity. Edward’s mind raced with possibilities. What if Catherine was there after all? What would he say to her? And if she truly wasn’t... where else could she be?

As he approached the grand house, Edward felt dread filling his being. This could be his last chance to find Catherine before... before what? Before he lost his nerve, and settled for a life without the woman who had brought light back into his world?

Charlotte Ashdown answered the door herself, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight of him. “Lord Wessex,” she said, curtsying quickly. “This is... unexpected.”

“Miss Ashdown,” Edward said, trying to keep the desperation from his voice. “I apologize for the intrusion, but I must ask again—have you seen Miss Winslow?”

Charlotte’s face was a mask of polite concern. “I’m sorry, Lord Wessex, but as we told you before, we haven’t seen Miss Winslow.”

Edward studied her face, searching for any sign of deception. “Please,” he said softly. “If you know where she is, if she’s asked you to keep her whereabouts secret... I just need to know that she’s safe.”

Something flickered in Charlotte’s eyes… sympathy, perhaps? But she shook her head. “I’m sorry, My Lord. We truly don’t know where she is.”

Edward felt his last hope crumbling. But then, a thought struck him. “Miss Ashdown,” he said, his voice tight with barely contained emotion, “would you allow me to search your house? I know it’s an imposition, but I... I need to be certain.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened in shock. “Lord Wessex, surely you don’t think we are lying to you?”

“No, of course not,” Edward said quickly. “But if there’s even the slightest chance... please. I have to know.”

Charlotte hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Very well, My Lord. If it will set your mind at ease. Please, come in.”

As they entered the house, Sophia appeared at the top of the stairs. “Charlotte? Who was at the… oh! Lord Wessex!”

Edward nodded in greeting, his eyes already scanning the entryway for any sign of Catherine. “Miss Sophia,” he said distractedly. “I hope you’ll forgive the intrusion.”

Charlotte quickly explained the situation to her sister, whose eyes grew round with surprise. “Of course,” Sophia said, her voice slightly higher than usual. “We have nothing to hide. Please, feel free to look around.”

Edward moved through the house methodically, his heart pounding with each new room. The maid behind him was a silence presence, save for the gasps she let out when he yanked open every door where a woman could possibly hide. The drawing room, the library, the conservatory—all devoid of any trace of Catherine. With each empty space, he felt his hope dimming.

As they climbed the stairs to the second floor, Edward couldn’t help but notice the sisters exchanging worried glances. Were they concerned about his mental state? Or was there something they were hiding?

The guest rooms were as empty as the rest of the house. No sign of Catherine’s presence, no hint that she had ever been there. Edward felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him as he realized the futility of his search.

“I... I apologize,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I shouldn’t have doubted your word. I just... I had to be sure.”

Charlotte’s expression softened. “We understand, Lord Wessex. You’re worried about her. We all are.”

Sophia stepped forward, her young face earnest. “My Lord,” she said hesitantly, “forgive me if I’m speaking out of turn, but... you love her, don’t you? Miss Winslow, I mean.”

Edward felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. “I... that’s not... I’m engaged to Lady Isabella,” he stammered.

The sisters exchanged a knowing look. “With all due respect, My Lord,” Charlotte said gently, “that’s not what Sophia asked.”

Edward closed his eyes, feeling the weight of his conflicted emotions pressing down on him. “It doesn’t matter,” he said quietly. “Catherine is gone, and I... I have responsibilities. Duties.”

“But what about your heart?” Sophia asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Edward had no answer for that. He thanked the Ashdown sisters for their patience and understanding, then made his way back to his waiting carriage. As he settled into the plush seat, he felt more lost than ever.

The ride back to Wessex Manor seemed interminable. Edward’s mind replayed every moment with Catherine—their heated arguments, their shared laughter, the stolen glances and lingering touches. How had he not realized sooner what she meant to him?

As the carriage pulled up to the manor, Edward saw Isabella waiting on the front steps. Her golden hair gleamed in the afternoon sun, her dress a vision of silk and lace. She was everything a nobleman’s wife should be—beautiful, refined, well-connected.

And yet, as Edward looked at her, he felt nothing but a dull ache in his chest.

“Darling,” Isabella called, her voice carrying across the gravel drive. “Where have you been? We have so much to discuss about the wedding.”

Edward climbed out of the carriage slowly, feeling as though he were moving through molasses. “Isabella,” he said, his voice sounding strange to his own ears. “I... I’m sorry, I’m not feeling well. Perhaps we could postpone our discussion?”

Isabella’s perfect smile faltered slightly. “Of course, darling. Are you alright? Shall I call for the physician?”

Edward shook his head. “No, no. I just need some rest. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

As he made his way to his study, Edward’s mind whirled with conflicting thoughts. He wanted nothing more than to call off the engagement, to go searching for Catherine again. But his mother’s voice echoed in his head, reminding him of duty and responsibility.

“A good match strengthens the family, Edward,” she had always said. “It’s not just about love, but about securing the future of Wessex.”

He sank into his chair, burying his face in his hands. Catherine was gone, possibly never to return. And even if she did, could he really throw away everything—his family’s expectations, his duty to the estate—for love?

A soft knock at the door roused him from his thoughts. “Come in,” he called, half-expecting Isabella to have followed him.

Instead, Emily peeked around the door, her young face etched with concern. “Edward? Are you really not feeling well?”

Edward sighed, gesturing for his sister to enter. “I’m fine, Em. Just... tired.”

Emily approached cautiously, studying his face. “You went looking for Miss Winslow again, didn’t you?”

He nodded, unable to hide the truth from his perceptive sister. “I did. But she wasn’t there. I don’t know where else to look.”

Emily’s face fell. “Oh, Edward. I’m so sorry. I miss her too, you know.”

“I know you do, Em.” Edward reached out and squeezed her hand. “But we... we have to move forward. The wedding plans—”

“Do you really want to marry Lady Isabella?” Emily interrupted, her voice small but determined.

Edward was taken aback by the directness of her question. “I... it’s what’s expected, Em. What Mother would have wanted. A good match for the family.”

Emily shook her head. “But is it what you want? Because I don’t think it is. I think you want Miss Winslow.”

“Emily,” Edward said, his voice strained. “It’s not that simple. Catherine is gone, and even if she weren’t... there are expectations, responsibilities.”

“But you’re the Earl,” Emily insisted. “Can’t you change those expectations? Haven’t you already, by keeping us isolated for so long?”

Edward felt a surge of emotions—frustration, longing, fear. “I don’t know, Em. I just don’t know anymore.”

Emily leaned in and hugged him tightly. “I think you do know, Edward. You’re just afraid to admit it.”

As Emily left the study, Edward turned to gaze out the window. The grounds of Wessex Manor stretched out before him, beautiful and familiar. This was his heritage, his responsibility. Could he really risk it all for… love?

But then Catherine’s face flashed in his mind—her bright smile, her sparkling eyes, the way she challenged him and made him feel truly alive for the first time in years.

Edward closed his eyes, feeling torn between duty and desire. He couldn’t call off the wedding, not yet. Not while Catherine was still missing, not while the future was so uncertain. But he couldn’t deny the truth in his heart either.

Where on earth was she? And what was he meant to do?

As night fell over Wessex Manor, Edward remained in his study, caught between the life he was expected to live and the one his heart longed for. The wedding plans loomed before him like a sentence, while the memory of Catherine haunted his every thought.