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Rupert

Rupert stood at the bottom of the steps leading up to Rutledge Manor, staring out at the pale sandstone drive as his mother’s carriage rolled to a stop. He drew in a deep breath and started forward. A footman was already opening the door and pulling out the step. Another had a hand proffered, ready to assist the dowager down.

His mother appeared, a bundle of lace, frills, and flounces in an apricot gown, intricately embroidered and covered in brilliants. She stepped down, and a maid hurried over, fluffing out her skirts. She stood ramrod straight, chin tilted up with what looked very much like annoyance etched on her face. Until her gaze fell on him. Then a small smile broke free.

He stepped up to her and bowed over her extended hand bedecked in rings.

“Mother, I cannot begin to speak of the joy that overcame me at your letter announcing you would be visiting.” It was amazing how easily the words fell. He hadn’t even needed to think them. Almost as though they formed as a conditioned response. He hid the unease that thought gave him behind an over-bright smile.

“Oh, if only you knew what joy hearing that gives me. I feared…when you hadn’t responded to any of my letters…” Her smile faded, and her eyes welled. “I feared you had decided you didn’t need your dear mama any longer.”

Rupert stiffened, though he managed to keep his smile firmly in place. Her words hovered between them, and she watched him, waited. Waited for him to acknowledge them, to deny their truth. As he always had done. But what would have prompted him to provide reassurance in the past now coasted over his skin like an icy chill. He couldn’t deny it hadn’t been well done of him to ignore her letters. But there was something in her shrewd gaze that had his skin crawling.

“That could never happen,” he managed.

He stepped back, and her gaze traveled over him, assessing. The all-too-familiar weight of falling short of her expectations bore down on him. There was still a slight shadow of a bruise under his right eye. If she noticed—

She nodded approvingly, and he breathed out a quiet sigh, grateful to avoid the disappointment he’d been bracing himself for.

“You look well, Rupert. The picture of the next Lord Chancellor, or if I dare be so bold, the future Prime Minister.”

Rupert hummed noncommittally. He truly hoped not. Becoming Prime Minister was never his aspiration. He simply wanted a meaningful role in Parliament. But the last time he’d broached that topic, Mother had fallen ill for an entire month. God, it had been a nightmare. Father had just passed, and Rupert had truly believed he was on the brink of losing Mother, too. At this point, he couldn’t risk anything ill-affecting her health.

Her eyes narrowed. “You appear tired, or… Is that a bruise under your eye?” The only thing that gave away her alarm was the slight rise in her tone.

Bloody hell . “It is nothing of consequence, Mother. An unfortunate incident. Almost healed.”

Her thin lips pinched, her gaze darting around the drive. “Where is your wife, Rupert? She does not even deign to greet her mother-in-law? She is somehow behind that bruise of yours, no doubt. What kind of ill-mannered behavior is this?”

Rupert clenched his fingers, refusing to give in and pull at his cravat. He had hoped Franny would get her frustrations out during her ride and greet his mother with him. It had been a foolish hope. He’d known that long before two hours had passed and Franny had yet to return. Which meant him mediating between the two most important women in his life was going to be an even more difficult task.

“I had feared she wasn’t taking adequate care of you. But a bruise, Rupert? You have been harmed .”

Concern shimmered in her eyes, and he tried to breathe away the confusion warring with his insides. Her condemnation of Franny grated more than it once had. But she was worried about his welfare, and he couldn’t exactly fault her for caring for him.

His mother waited, delicate brows lifting infinitesimally higher at his prolonged silence. He drummed his fingers on his thigh. He needed to come up with a placating response that also didn’t lead to further disapproval of Franny. He was determined to find a way through his mother’s animosity toward his wife and his wife’s blatant disregard for propriety. He nearly laughed. Could there be a more impossible task?

The sound of hooves thudding against the drive drew his attention, and his gaze fell on Blaze trotting up the drive, stirrups flapping against his sides, tail swishing. Empty stirrups. Empty saddle. Rupert’s heart kicked up.

He turned to one of the footmen unloading his mother’s carriage. “What is the meaning of this?”

The footmen’s eyes widened, and he froze at Rupert’s harsh tone. “I-I do not know, my lord.”

“Sanderson!” he bellowed.

“Goodness, Rupert. Calm yourself. What is this, bellowing like a heathen?”

Rupert bit back a less than pleasant retort and turned toward the manor, where Sanderson was already hurrying down the steps. His butler stopped in front of Rupert, his gaze darting to Blaze, and panic shot through Rupert at the worry reflected in his usually stoic butler’s eyes.

“Why is Blaze trotting about, saddled, without a groom in sight?”

“My lord,” Sanderson said, his voice low. “Her Ladyship set off for a ride with Blaze just over two hours ago.” He glanced again at Blaze. “The grooms would never allow Blaze to roam freely, let alone saddled.”

Rupert’s heart sank to the depths of a cold, bottomless ocean. “Have my horse saddled immediately.”

Sanderson nodded. “Straight away, my lord.”

“Oh heavens, do not be silly, Rupert. Sanderson, you will do no such thing.”

Rupert spun on his heel to face his mother, his lips pressed painfully tight, not trusting himself to speak. He lifted his brows in silent question.

She blinked up at him with wide eyes. “Darling, son. You cannot abandon your poor mama upon her arrival. Send out a search party, as any great lord would wont to do. That is a servant’s responsibility, not something you should bother yourself with.”

Aggravation ate at his insides. He didn’t want to send out a bloody search party. He wanted to go search for his wife himself.

She directed her attention to his butler. “Sanderson, please gather whoever our best riders are to search for Lady Rutledge. Do not forget to look up when searching. You are as likely to find her in a tree as you are on the ground.” She turned to Rupert. “I see now why she wasn’t here to greet me.”

Fury simmered just underneath the surface, but years of habituation had him somehow modulating his tone. Barely. “You overstep, Mother,” he said stiffly.

Something flashed across her face, there and gone so fast Rupert hadn’t time to register what it could possibly have meant. Then she shrank in on herself, and she took a small step away from him. “I see,” she said in a small voice.

And now Rupert felt like the biggest bloody cad. He wasn’t sure if emotions could slay a man, but he was one more riotous feeling away from his brain simply exploding.

He turned to Sanderson. “Arrange a search party. I want the entire estate, every inch, searched for Lady Rutledge. And I want word sent to the tenant village as well. Alert the Doherty’s immediately.”

Sanderson dipped a quick nod and strode back inside.

Rupert prayed for patience and turned back to his mother. She smiled at him approvingly, and he clenched his teeth. He gently tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and led her up the steps to the mammoth entry of Rutledge Manor. “I believe it prudent I assist in the search, Mother,” he explained calmly. “I want to, regardless of the fact that we have able-bodied servants.”

Her smile faltered, but then it softened, and she patted his arm gently. “My kind boy. Do not fret. I am sure Lady Rutledge is just fine. I’m proud of the dedicated husband you are becoming, but let us be level-headed about this, darling. You are letting your emotions rule you instead of logic. She most likely didn’t tie up her horse properly while she partook in some improper adventure or another. Are you truly going to desert me for such triviality? I’m sure she’ll be storming into the Manor at any moment, covered in muck or mud or what have you.”

He let out a controlled breath even as he frowned. Had she always tucked insults away like that—hidden amongst her praises and compliments? He couldn’t deny the truth in her statement; he shouldn’t jump right to panic. And, Lord, he hoped she was correct, and it was only a matter of Blaze having wandered off while Franny decided to go for a swim or skip stones by the river. But he wouldn’t breathe easily until he knew.

“I will get you settled, Mother, and then I will join the search party.

Her features tightened, but she nodded. “I understand you must do what you feel is best.” Even if I disagree . The sentiment was so loud she didn’t need to say it.

“Now, while this display of concern may be admirable, I do hope you remember to practice better restraint in public company. It is a sign of poor breeding to be so transparent in one’s emotions, especially regarding one’s wife.”

He wondered if she would think it was poor breeding if he tipped his head back and roared his frustration into the heavens.

She chuckled. “Goodness, you almost had me believing you had formed a tendre for your wife. How unfashionable that would be.”

In that case, Rupert was very unfashionable.

And he didn’t give a bloody damn.