Page 41 of A Widow for the Earl (The Gentlemen’s Club #5)
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
F our days? Is that all?
Vincent stood on the terrace, a glass of brandy in hand, watching the sun set over the sprawling gardens of Grayling House.
The last of the summer roses would soon wilt and fade, the blooms retreating in preparation for winter, the verdant landscape becoming stark and barren.
He should have been savoring the lingering beauty, but instead his heart felt empty, his eyes unable to enjoy the sight.
The staff had been pleased to see him, and his mother had been overjoyed, but it was not the home he had left. It felt foreign to him, everything familiar becoming strange.
It is an adjustment, that is all. I will settle again soon enough.
Indeed, he could just convince himself that it was merely the absence of Prudence that made the house so odd. She never allowed the manor to be silent, and she was far away from its hallways and rooms, safely situated with their aunt.
“It is a beautiful evening,” a soft voice said, casting him out of his grim reverie.
He turned to find his mother approaching, a cup of medicinal tea cradled between her hands. She was dressed for bed, the hem of a nightdress poking out beneath the quilted fabric of her housecoat; her hair loose, making her look younger for a moment.
“I thought you had retired for the night,” he said stiffly, for there was nowhere to hide the glass of brandy in his hand.
She stepped out onto the terrace in her slippers. “I was restless, so I came to find you.” She sighed. “Now, I can see why I was restless. I have never slept well when one of my children is troubled.”
“You must not have slept for most of the past twenty years, then,” he replied with a half-smile. “I am not troubled, Mother. I am just enjoying the sunset.”
She shook her head, sitting down on one of the iron lawn chairs that scattered the terrace.
“You have not been yourself since you returned. I know you think I do not notice anything except gossip and gowns and silly things, but I notice my children more than you all think.” She paused.
“Is it Prudence? Is that what worries you?”
Since his return, he had told the truth about the near-miss of a scandal, expecting Julianna to wail and shriek about the horror of it. It had jarred him somewhat when she had merely shrugged, unsurprised, and said, “Well, at least it was averted”.
“Her letter arrived this afternoon,” he replied. “There is nothing to worry about. She is where she should be, for the time being.”
Julianna turned her gaze toward the dying sun, sipping her tea tentatively.
“I am so very sorry that you have carried so much for this family,” she said in a faraway voice.
“You have such sturdy shoulders that I have never stopped to consider the… sheer weight of it all. You have kept my girls safe, you have kept me safe, and I am sorry that it fell to you.”
“There is no need for that, Mother,” he said uncomfortably, a lump forming in his throat. “It was my duty from the moment I was born; it just fell to me a little earlier than expected. But I am not sorry that I was able to keep you all safe and secure.”
Julianna shook her head slowly. “You did more than anyone should have had to do. I knew something of our diminished fortune, but I had no notion of how bad it was until you began to fix it. I know you kept it from me, but I do notice more than you think.” She glanced up at him.
“And then I see you now, and wonder how much more it took from you than even I realized.”
“It took nothing from me, Mother,” he insisted. “It shaped me. It made me who I am. It gave me knowledge and resourcefulness and talents that I would not have had otherwise, and I get the privilege of knowing that you—all of you—will always be taken care of. That is worth everything to me.”
His mother pulled the collar of her housecoat a little tighter against the chill of the evening.
“But who will take care of you? When you build something, when you restore something, you are supposed to then be able to enjoy the fruits of your labor. I do not want you to delay your own life anymore, Vincent.”
“Where is this coming from?” he asked, bewildered.
In all the years since he had been the head of the household, he had never known her to talk like this. Not to him, anyway.
“I have had time to think about a great many things in your absence,” she replied.
“And when Prudence left too, and I was here alone, it made me face a few truths that I have been avoiding.
I know I have relied too heavily upon you, my dear boy, and I know how much you have sacrificed for this family.
I do not want you to sacrifice any more.
I do not want you to deny yourself your future, and your wants, anymore.
“But, most of all,” she added quietly, “I want to thank you. I realized while you were gone that I have never thanked you properly, and I am sorry for that.”
Vincent shifted awkwardly, taking a sip of his brandy just to give himself something to do. He could handle his mother’s tantrums and dramas and requests, but he did not know how to contend with this version of her, contrite and quiet.
“I give you permission to be free now,” she murmured. “You do not have to dedicate your life to us anymore. Find what you want. Find what your heart wants. Leave Prudence to me; it is the least that I can do.”
Vincent frowned at the sunset, where pink-tinged clouds scudded across a hazy purple sky. It was so beautiful it did not look real, making him wonder, with all seriousness, whether he was dreaming. There could be no other explanation for his mother’s sudden change of behavior.
Perhaps, I am still at Wycliffe, with Beatrice, and I have just dozed off for a moment…
“I have my plan, Mother,” he replied. “Once all my sisters are wed, I will find a calm and obedient wife to be my Countess.”
And I shall pity the poor woman, for not a day will go by where I will not think of Beatrice, where my heart will not ache for her.
Julianna puffed out a breath. “But that is so much less than you deserve, Vincent. You deserve more than a strict plan that you made so many years ago.” She hesitated, as if she knew her son might not like what she had to say next.
“I suppose,” she continued, “seeing Isolde and Teresa so in love, and loved so deeply in return, I have hopes of you finding the same. Not just whoever fits the picture of what you think your wife should be, but someone you love , madly and wholly.”
You would not be saying that if you knew who had my heart.
He did not tell her that such a woman already existed, or that he missed that woman so much that it physically hurt. He did not tell her that the past four days had been filled with the memory of kissing that woman, holding that woman close, imagining a future that would never be.
Indeed, he did not have the chance to say anything at all, as the butler came running through the drawing room, skidding to a halt on the terrace. And he was not alone, Duncan running in a second behind him.
“My lord, I tried to explain to His Grace that you were busy, but—” the butler tried to say, but Duncan cut him off.
“Beatrice has been taken,” he said, his eyes wild with worry and at least one sleepless night.
The shock struck Vincent so hard that he almost dropped his glass. “What?”
“Her driver came to us early this morning,” Duncan replied, sweeping a stressed hand through his hair. “He said that Beatrice asked to be let out by the chapel and told him to continue on to the house. He did, though he stayed in the driveway to ensure she returned safely.
“It was before dawn, perhaps four o’clock in the morning.
He thought nothing of it, for she visited the chapel often, at all hours of the day and night.
” He took a breath. “Ten minutes or so, after he had left her, he heard her scream. He was already turning the carriage around, heading for her, when he saw her run out onto the driveway. She was being pursued.”
Vincent realized he had stopped breathing.
“A man caught her,” Duncan continued. “He dragged her to his horse and rode off with her. The driver gave chase, following her—by all accounts—for many, many miles. I suspect he would have followed to the ends of the earth, but the kidnapper crossed a river, and the driver could not pursue any further. The carriage would not have made it, according to him, and I believe him.”
Vincent heard everything that Duncan said as if the man possessed a thousand voices, all screaming directly into his skull.
He thought of how scared she must be, long before he considered who might have done this.
He thought of what the kidnapper meant to do with her, and his blood began to boil, simmering with the heat of pure panic.
I cannot lose her. I cannot.
He cursed himself inwardly for ever leaving her side.
All this time, he had been so focused on his duty to his family that he had not realized he had been given another duty: to make sure no harm ever befell the woman he loved.
He had been too stubborn to confess; instead, abandoning her because he was afraid of loving her, afraid for what it might mean for his own life.
Now, he could not have cared less if her curse did kill him. At least he would have had the chance to love her, and maybe be loved by her in return.
“But the driver did manage to see who took her,” Duncan concluded, wearing the same deadly expression that Vincent had no doubt was upon his face too.
Vincent clenched his free hand into a fist. “Who?”
“I will tell you once we are on our way,” Duncan replied. “There is no time to waste; she is already hours ahead of us, but I came here first because I hoped you would help. You have connections and, whether you like it or not, she is your responsibility.”
Julianna raised her hand, frowning. “We are not talking about Beatrice Johnson, are we?”
“Yes,” Vincent replied to Duncan, his heart thundering, “she is my responsibility. I should never have left her there alone.”
And when I find you, my love, I will never leave you alone again.
“If I do not find her, Valery will never forgive me,” Duncan said, as if Vincent needed any further motivation.
Vincent nodded, setting down his brandy glass. “Never mind your wife. I will never forgive myself.”
He took off running, not bothering to cut through the house but making his way around the outside of the manor. He did not stop until he reached the stables, saddling his horse faster than he had ever saddled a horse before.
I am coming to you, Beatrice. Just… stay alive until then, I beg of you.
It did not take long until he was riding out to the driveway, where Duncan was waiting for him, sat astride his dark stallion. They did not even speak, just giving a nod to one another, as they urged their horses into a gallop, kicking up a cloud of dust as they hurtled off in search of Beatrice.