Page 64 of His Temporary Duchess

“I have to go,” Sebastian said shortly, shrugging his coat back on. Mud be damned.

“Do you have an idea of where she departed to?”

“No, but I—” He stopped, the weight of what had happened crashing into him with finality. Eleanor, the woman who had promised to remain by his side forevermore, hadlefthim.

She had abandoned him when he needed her the most, just when he realized he loved her. And perhaps he had not told her, had not made it plain enough, but hehad, damn it. He had loved her, and now once again he was left to pick up the pieces of his heartbreak.

“I will see if she left any clues as to her whereabouts,” he said shortly.

“Very good, sir.”

Sebastian made his way to his study, knowing, somehow, that he would find a letter there. Knowing that if she wanted to leave a message for him, she would do so there. In the room she had invaded with her presence.

Sure enough, the letter lay on the desk. He broke into it, hands shaking, and read it through. Then again. Again. His eyes glazed.

She was gone. Eleanor had gone and she had left him behind.

The pain in his chest might be enough to kill him. He had thought once that his broken heart might prove to be the death of him, but this could not compare. Whatever love he had felt for Lydia had been childish infatuation, nothing more. A desire, so desperate inside him he ached with it, to be loved and accepted.

Eleanor had made him feel that way, more so than anyone else in his life. More so, even, than Lydia. His parents were a distant blur; all that remained of them in his head was his mother’s soft voice and his father’s merry smile. Mostly, he remembered their stiff bodies, the way their faces had twisted in death.

Now, when he thought of Eleanor, he would think of this moment, in his dim study, covered in mud as his life broke apart once more.

She was gone and had promised he would never see her again. And all because he had not wanted to marry her when theyfirst married? She had long known that. Sheknewhe pushed everyone else away. And until now, he had thought she was the one person that he might never succeed in doing so with.

How could he bear this?

He took out a brandy bottle from the sideboard and poured a new glass. But this space was filled with her and the memory of her. He needed to find somewhere else, but where could he go that he would not think of her?

There was nowhere, and so he went reluctantly to the library, sitting in the armchair he had always sat in, and began to drink.

It was midnight by the time Sebastian finally stumbled back upstairs. At first, he went into his bedchamber, peering into the gloom. Memories hung here, of course. The memorable time she had come to him in nothing but a nightgown.

But those memories were not enough.

“Damn it,” he mumbled, slurring his words as he tried the door into her bedchamber. Unlocked, of course.

Everything was just as she had left it, gilded in the flickering light of his candle. He put it down on a small table as he inhaled her scent. Just hours ago, she had been here. Just last night, they had slept together in that bed.

Such sentimental thoughts. He could not hold them back. The way she laughed in the early morning sunlight. The freckles she had that no one else had ever seen. The heat in her eyes when she looked at him. The hunger. The softness. All gone.

For a moment, he swayed on his feet, unsure if he should return to his bed. But the lure of memory proved too strong, and he approached the bed with clumsy footsteps. Angry in his inebriation, but mostly hurt. In six years, she was the first person he had trusted, and she had abandoned him.

No, that wasn’t quite right. She had believed that he would be happier without her. Such a foolish assumption when she was the only person left he needed in his life like he needed air to breathe.

Thunder rolled outside the window. Lightning illuminated the room, and with it came a bolt of clarity. She had gone, yes, but love had been written in every line of her letter.

Surely there was more. All this time, she had fought for him, even when she could have been near certain there was nothing worth fighting for. Yet, he would flounder at his first obstacle in doing the same for her?

No. If he did nothing now, he would lose her forever.

He could not let that happen. Would not. Even if it might mean running to his own demise. Heneededto know. For their sake, if not his.

There was only one place he could think of that she would flee to now.Olivia. She wouldn’t go to her stepmother. All he needed to do was find her before she moved on. There was time. Then he could find her and explain—oh, there was so much to explain. Why he felt the way he did, why he found it so hard to trust, and why he needed her in his life more than he had ever needed anyone.

“Peters,” he called as he hurried back down the stairs. “Where is he? Damn it, I’ll do it myself.”

“Your Grace?” a footman called from behind him, roused but half asleep. “What’s going on?”