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“Home, I suppose.”

The coachman hesitated. “Where’s home? The townhouse or the big house?”

Stephen momentarily closed his eyes. “Do you know, I haven’t the faintest idea.”

CHAPTER 28

“Gone?” Beatrice echoed. “When?”

Theodosia wrung her hands—a nervous gesture Beatrice had never seen her make before.

“He came home briefly last night,” she said, swallowing hard. “His things were already packed up, and he had them sent straight to the townhouse and followed immediately.”

Beatrice swallowed hard.

The morning was bright but cloudy, a perfect day to while away the hours until it was time to go to the theater in the evening. Stephen was meant to escort both Beatrice and his mother, but Beatrice had a feeling that they would be going alone.

A lump formed in her throat. “I see,” she managed.

It seemed pointless to try and maintain her composure, since she was not fooling anybody. Not herself, and certainly not Theodosia.

While the older woman was now the Dowager Duchess of Blackwood, the servants were still loyal to her. No doubt Theodosia would have heard about Beatrice’s order to pack her husband’s things.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have done it. Perhaps I should have… Oh, I don’t know. I don’t know what I should have done.

She felt drained, like a wet rag wrung out again and again until it was limp and useless.

“Did you see him? Before he left?” she ventured.

Theodosia nibbled on her lower lip and eventually nodded. “Yes, briefly. I would not have, except that he sent Mouse to fetch me. He wanted to say goodbye, he said.”

He said goodbye to you, but not to me.

Beatrice swallowed again.

“I tried to tell him to speak to you, too,” Theodosia added. “I tried my best to convince him. He wouldn’t tell me a thing, and it was so very late. Perhaps if I hadn’t been so tired, I might have convinced him to…”

“This is not your fault, Theodosia. Please, don’t think that I blame you in the slightest,” Beatrice said quickly. “This is between Stephen and myself. Neither of us would expect you to take sides, or accept any sort of blame.”

Theodosia sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “I just thought… I thought for a while that something was developing between you. I was so happy. You’re the finest daughter-in-law a mother could want, and what mother does not want her son to be happy? I hoped for the best, but it seems that it is not meant to be.”

“No, I think not,” Beatrice answered brusquely. “It hardly matters, I think. He always intended to go to the townhouse.”

She turned to go, but Theodosia spoke again.

“He said he had left something for you in the study. I have no idea what.”

Beatrice paused, frowning. “Something for me?”

Theodosia shrugged helplessly. “He would not say what. My son is far too stubborn, but I believe you know that already.”

Beatrice certainly did. She left without another word.

Breakfast was set out in the dining room, but Beatrice had no appetite.

Despite her best efforts, she hoped, faintly, that thesomethingleft for her in the study might be Stephen himself. It was a foolish notion, the sort of thing one would read in a novel with a swooning heroine and a handsome hero.

Her hopes were dashed at once, of course. The study was empty. A fire burned in the grate, since a fire was kindled there every morning for Stephen.