Page 33 of A Duchess in Ten Days (Icy Dukes #2)

Before she could retreat to a corner to cry alone, a strong hand gripped her arm, yanking her away from the bustling crowd. Her breath caught in her throat, panic surging through her, but before she could react, something covered her mouth.

The sounds of the crowd faded as the hand that held her guided her into a more secluded part of the street. Lavinia's heart pounded in her chest, her pulse racing as she struggled against the sudden restraint.

David's voice called out in the distance, faint and muffled. "Lavinia, where are you going?"

She tried to scream, to call out to him, but the hand covering her mouth was firm, forcing her into silence. Lavinia's chest heaved, her thoughts racing as she struggled to break free, but the grip on her arm remained unyielding.

Just as she thought she might collapse from the tension, the hand lifted from her mouth, and she turned to face her captor, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and confusion.

Before she could speak, he placed a cloth over her nose and in an instant, everywhere went dark.

"So, you have decided? You're going to let her go?"

The days following Lavinia's departure were the longest Andrew had ever endured.

He had not slept a wink since the night she went away.

His thoughts were a constant barrage of guilt, regret, and longing.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face.

..her tear-streaked cheeks, the way her eyes had pleaded for a future that he could not offer.

He couldn't bring himself to eat. The bottles of alcohol in his study grew emptier by the day.

They were a temporary escape from the crushing weight of his reality.

Every night, when he had too much to drink, he would retreat to the room where his father's painting loomed over him, and they would have their usual battles.

The furious arguments with the silent portrait, the scorn he could never express when his father had been alive, now pouring out in bitterness.

But nothing helped. No amount of alcohol, no screaming at the portrait, could drown out the hollow ache in his chest.

It was on one of those days, when the hours seemed to drag on endlessly, that Solomon found him. He hadn't been told anything about Lavinia leaving, but it wasn't hard to guess. Andrew's pale face, bloodshot eyes, and the mess of unkempt hair were a clear sign that something was very wrong.

But somehow, he managed to get Andrew to freshen up.

It had taken him over an hour to get him to agree to leave his bed and take a nice bath.

It had also taken Andrew another hour to agree to leave the bathtub.

If it were up to him, he would have sat there all day, drinking and contemplating whether to bury his head under the water until the bubbles stopped.

"Do I have a choice?" Andrew asked Solomon. They were seated in the study, in front of the fireplace. "You have heard all that I have said. It's the wise choice."

"It's a stupid choice," Solomon mumbled. Andrew wasn't surprised. Solomon wasn't one to mince words.

"I don't know much about love," Solomon continued. "But I don't think you're doing it right. Why is the best option here to let her go? To annul the marriage?"

Andrew exhaled heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. His temples throbbed from lack of sleep, the effects of too much brandy, and the relentless thoughts that refused to quiet. He stared into the fire, watching the embers crackle and spit as though they might have an answer for him.

"It's not about what I want," he muttered. "It's about what's right. I should have told her from the start."

"Then why didn't you?" Solomon asked.

Andrew didn't need to think of his answer. "I guess...this place felt like a home with her in it. It wasn't as...lonely as it used to be. I was being selfish."

"Now, you feel bad about being selfish?" he asked.

Andrew nodded. "I have told her what I want. I want to have a life with her. Just the two of us. Until we breathe our last breath. But I cannot expect her to just accept a reality that she despises."

Solomon leaned forward. "I am not sure I understand. What are you so terrified of?"

"I am not terrified of anything," he answered firmly.

"I am not scared of raising children. That is not what this is.

I might not know what it takes to be a good father, but the only reason I am standing by this decision is because I refuse to go back on my promise.

The house of Cornelius Haskett will end with me. It must."

Solomon studied him for a long moment. Then, with a sigh, he shook his head. "So, this is about vengeance, then?"

Andrew's jaw tightened. "Call it what you will."

"Andrew." Solomon's voice was quiet. "You are punishing a dead man, and in doing so, you are punishing yourself. And Lavinia."

"I know this. Lavinia deserves someone who can give her everything she wants. I cannot. So, I am willing to put my feelings aside, and let her make the decision that is best for her."

The door to Andrew's study burst open with such force that it slammed against the wall, causing both Andrew and Solomon to jerk in response. David stood there, breathless, his cravat slightly askew, and his face red with exertion.

Andrew barely had time to react before David pointed a finger at him, his voice like a blade slicing through the tense air. "You and I have unfinished business, Hargrave," he growled, his fury barely contained. "And I swear, you will face me for it."

Andrew rose to his feet. "David, I understand why you might be upset."

"We will deal with that later. That is not why I came all this way," David said, stepping into the room. "My sister is missing.

Andrew's entire body went still. A slow, creeping dread curled in his stomach. "Your sister? My wife?"

David exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if trying to steady himself. "She was taken, Andrew. Someone grabbed her. I saw it."

The words sent ice through Andrew's veins.

David continued, his voice urgent. "Somebody took her near the park. One moment she was there, and the next she was gone. I tried to reach her but there were too many people. I saw a hand clamp over her mouth, and then—" He swallowed hard. "Then she was gone."

For a moment, Andrew couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. His mind refused to process the words, as if denying them would make them untrue. But then his pulse roared in his ears, and something inside him snapped.

The glass in his hand shattered, his grip too tight, but he didn't even flinch at the sharp sting of pain. He moved forward, eyes blazing. "Where?" he demanded.

David took a step back. "Near Hyde Park."

"Did you see who took her?" he questioned.

"I did not," David answered. "I came here to ask you if you made any enemies recently. Lavinia has none, so this might have something to do with you."

Andrew began to pace. "No one comes to mind."

David exhaled sharply. "Think harder, Andrew. Someone must have had a reason to take her."

Andrew's jaw tightened as he continued pacing. His mind raced through every encounter, every grudge, every potential threat that lurked in the shadows of his past. But nothing...until suddenly, the answer struck him like a blow to the chest.

He stopped abruptly. His eyes darkened with realization.

"At the Grandbury ball...someone was watching us dance," Andrew noted. "It was a man..."

"A man was watching you?" Solomon asked, stepping forward.

Andrew clicked his fingers. "Robert. It's Robert."

David straightened. "You think it was Robert?"

Andrew nodded. "It makes sense. He wouldn't have shown himself outright, not after all this time. But he would have watched. Waited." His jaw clenched. "And now he's taken her."

He should have known. After exposing him for the wretched, cruel man he was, Andrew should have guessed that Robert would not slink away into the shadows without seeking revenge. A man like that did not forget. A man like that did not forgive.

His fists curled so tightly his knuckles cracked. He was so angry that he ignored the throbbing pain in his hand from the cut inflicted by the glass he had shattered. His blood pounded with unrelenting rage, but beneath it, threading through every violent thought, was an even sharper emotion.

Fear.

Had Robert hurt her? Was she crying out for help, waiting for someone to come for her? Was she afraid, alone, wondering if he would even bother to find her?

Andrew felt cold all of a sudden. The thought nearly brought him to his knees.

He exhaled sharply, lifting his gaze. "We leave now," he ordered, his voice like steel.

"To where? I think we should alert the constables, so they are out looking for Robert," Solomon suggested.

"I did that before coming here," David said. "But now that we have a name, I'll go back and get them to start looking for Robert specifically."

"I'll go to Robert's estate," Andrew said. "You said Hyde Park was where she was taken from? He doesn't live that far from the park. My guess is, he took her to his estate. David, meet me there with the constables."

Andrew made to leave, but then he paused. "The sooner you get there, David, the better," he said. "Because if you don't come fast enough with the constables, you'll only find a dead viscount when you arrive."

Without waiting for a response, he hurried out of the study. All he could think about were the different ways to kill a man. Because if Robert had laid a single hand on his wife, Andrew would make sure the bastard never touched another soul again.