Page 65 of His Temporary Duchess

“I’ve changed my mind. I’m going after my wife.”

“But—” Another crack of thunder shook the walls of the manor. “The storm. You would be better waiting until morning.”

“If I do that, it might be too late.” He had not ever had a chance to regain something he had lost before. When his parents had died, there had been no coming back from it. When his old butler had left his service, unwilling to be connected with such scandal, there had been nothing Sebastian could say. Even Lydia—heavens, even Lydia. He had begged her then, asked her to give him time. He could have done nothing to win her back.

Even now, her pursuit of him—it was not for his sake. She could have done so any time over the past six years. No. She had done so after she learned of his marriage and thought she could win him over.

He hurried into the driving rain, brushing his hair back from his face. The stable smelled of fresh straw and leather and horses as he stepped inside, striking a match and lighting a candle.

“Come, boy,” he crooned to his gelding, Silver, who watched him with suspicious eyes, his gray coat gleaming in the light. But despite Sebastian having disturbed the horse’s slumber, he came willingly enough, allowing himself to be tacked and saddled. Sebastian did it all without the assistance of the groom, whom he had no wish to wake, and he swung into the saddle.

“Now we fly,” he said, directing Silver at the stable door. They cantered free, leaving the stable block behind. The rain whipped into his face and lightning split the sky. The world felt as though it had come free from its usual restraint, wild and untamed. Clouds blocked even the dim light from the moon, and Sebastian did not care to go faster than a trot along the roads until he came to the outskirts of London. There, he loosened the reins and gave his animal leave to surge forward.

For long moments, he knew nothing but the rain on his face, the chill against his leather-covered fingers, and the knot in his chest. But as he thundered onward, other memories emerged. There had been a storm like this the night his parents had passed.

Lightning. Rain. Rumbling thunder. Darkness that seemed so complete, it bled into his vision. He could taste the fear his younger self had felt. The despair. His hands slackened on the reins, and he sucked in a breath.

This was just how everything had been the day everything went wrong.

If he thought back, he could track every pain in his life back to that singular moment. The loss of his parents had spurred a series of events that had split his life open. With Eleanor’s help, he had begun to stitch himself back together, but now he remembered the trauma, rocking through his body, stiffening him. The terror felt alien, unsettling, as though it belonged to a different man from the one he could become—but he could do nothing to prevent it from moving through his body.

A sound burst from beside him, a man shouting into the storm. A flare of light.

His horse reared, whinnying, and Sebastian lost his grip on the reins.

The ground rushed to meet him.

His last thought was of Eleanor.

“Come away from the window, dearest,” Olivia murmured, taking hold of Eleanor’s arm.

“The storm.” Eleanor stroked Scrunch, the unsettling stone in the pit of her stomach making her feel as though something was wrong. By now, Sebastian must have found her note. Shewondered what he was feeling. Whether he felt even some hurt, or just relief that she had finally freed him from the bonds of matrimony.

She sucked in an unsteady breath. “The rain is coming down so strong now.”

Olivia glanced into her face, her brows drawing together. Although her friend usually had plenty to say, she had said very little since Eleanor had arrived unexpectedly, a single trunk in the carriage and the information that she was leaving her husband.

At first, she had attempted to persuade Eleanor to return, but when Eleanor had refused, she had instead promised a room for as long as Eleanor wanted. Her mother, too, seeing nothing more than a Duchess’s friendship, had agreed without any hint of irritation.

Eleanor told no one else that she was leaving Sebastian. If the news of that got out—

Well, she could not bear to bring him any shame or humiliation. He had too much pride for that.

She rested her hand against the windowpane. “And it’s so cold outside.”

“No one will be outside in this,” Olivia said, tugging gently at her elbow. “It’s late. Come to bed and everything will seem better in the morning.”

Eleanor shook her head, swallowing hard. “I very much doubt it.”

“I think that—”

“Please, Olivia. I know you mean well, but I can’t bear you telling me that he cares for me after all. I saw that list.” She swallowed past her thick throat, fighting back the tears that seemed so close to the surface now. “He acted on so many of the items on it. If I hadn’t been so foolish, so desperate to cling to a marriage neither of us wanted, I might have seen his intentions for what they were.”

Olivia pressed her lips together. “I think you’re mistaken, Ella. Lawks, I say the way he looked at you every time you were together—he couldn’t keep his eyes from you. That’s not a man who suffers from indifference. You know at the beginning he was coming to court one of your sisters, but he chose you instead.”

“For what reason?”

“Perhaps you ought to ask him yourself,” Olivia said gently. “All this conjecture—you have yet to speak with him.”