Page 24 of The Broken Marchioness (Lords of Inconvenience #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

A llan woke with a start. He could have sworn he had heard the distant neigh of a horse — maybe the clack of a carriage wheels — but then it was over, and he presumed it had only been in his imagination.

He ran his hands over his face, trying his best to dispel the awful nightmares which had plagued him all night. In those dreams, Frederica had truly left him. He’d arisen to find she was already gone, he had no chance of turning back the clock and stopping it, and he would have to approve the… annulment.

He slowly sat up, shifting his night shirt on his shoulders uncomfortably and placing his feet on the floor with a heavy sigh.

“She’ll be here,” he whispered to himself, needing to believe it, needing to know there was one last chance.

He pulled himself up from the bed to change. He didn’t bother ringing for his valet but changed himself, often stopping and staring down at the floor, thinking of the awful argument they’d had the night before. Words Frederica had uttered repeated in his mind, tormenting him.

“I do not love you, Allan. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

He had a feeling those words in particular would haunt him until his dying day. His breath caught in his throat, but he managed to level it out. He would not cry. He could not bear the thought of crying now.

He turned, determined to head for their adjoining door and speak to her when something caught his eye beneath the door. There was a thin slip of paper folded up neatly, and on the front, he read his name — Allan.

With sudden energy, Allan bolted toward it. He picked up the note and unfurled it, his eyes falling on Frederica’s cursive handwriting.

Dearest Allan, my husband,

He broke off momentarily. He could not remember Frederica ever actually referring to him as her husband before. It made his heart ache.

I hope someday you’ll come to understand why this was the best course of action. For believe me, it was. It is the only way I could be sure of your…

Allan noticed here she had scrawled out one word then written another with the first word completely illegible.

…happiness. That is what matters now, happiness.

I hope you will be happy, that you’ll live your free life as you were always meant to long before I returned to London and ended up trapping us in scandal.

You’re free of me now, Allan. You’re free to be the man you always wanted to be.

I will be gone when you read this, but take this as my final goodbye and my true wish for your happiness.

I hope we shall meet again someday.

Yours, Freddie

Allan didn’t dare breathe as he finished reading. The fleeting happiness he had felt at her signing her name with the very name he had given her was a wonderous thing, but it was gone in the next second. She’d already gone!

He had to be certain.

He reached for the door, only to find it locked. When it wouldn’t move, he stuffed the letter deep down into his pocket then rammed his shoulder into the door. It gave way easily, the door fracturing open around the lock.

He marched into the room, his head turning back and forth.

“Freddie?” he called out her name, searching for her, but the bed was neatly made from where the maid had already made it up again with no sign at all of Frederica ever having slept the night there.

He hurried toward the bureaus. He pulled open the closet, but that was empty as was the chest of drawers. The more places he searched, the more frantic he became. He even searched under the bed, looking desperately for some sign of an odd pair of shoes — any proof that Frederica had been there at all, but there was nothing.

Had he not lived it, it would have been easy to believe that Frederica had never been here at all.

“Mrs. Long?” the words burst from him.

He strode out of the room, practically sprinting all the way to the staircase and down the steps.

“Mrs. Long?” he called again.

She was not the only one to come. The butler appeared too as did Miss Lucy, Frederica’s maid. They halted in the entrance hall, having just run up the servants’ stairwell.

“My Lord?” Mrs. Long asked, her pallor pale. “What is it? What is wrong?”

“She’s gone!?” He never lost his temper with his staff — it was just not something he did — but he couldn’t keep control of himself now. “When? When did she go? Where did she go?”

“She left first thing,” Lucy answered when Mrs. Long hesitated. “We prepared the carriage, and she left.”

“Where? Where did the carriage go?” Allan asked, jumping down the last of the steps to note that Lucy hung her head, coloring pink.

She knows.

“We do not know.” Mrs. Long held her head high. “I am sorry, My Lord. Truly, I am. I wish she had not wanted to go, but it was what she wanted.”

Allan stepped back, uncertain what to do next.

He turned on the spot, madly, then stuffed his hand back into his pocket and pulled out Frederica’s letter again.

The way she had signed her name, Freddie, made his heart ache.

I was so sure she cared for me, too. That I was not the only one falling in love here. How could I be so completely wrong?

It seemed he hadn’t really known her at all. All this time, he thought he understood her and thought he was reading her expressions and the way she felt, but he was wrong.

“I need…” he muttered aloud.

“Yes, My Lord?” the butler said, stepping forward, clearly eager to be of assistance.

“I need… my horse.” He had to see Frederica again. He had to plead with her not to do this; he was a fool last night to even agree to the annulment in the first place. “If you would have it prepared, please, I must leave at once.”

* * *

Half an hour later, Allan was bolting through the streets of London. It was still so early in the morning that the sky was grey, and there were barely any people treading the roads. It was a good thing, for Allan rode like a madman, and had it been busier, he might have struggled not to have caused an accident in his haste.

He cut a corner by darting through Hyde Park then pushed on, shedding his tailcoat over his shoulder with the rain making his shirt and face damp, streaking them with droplets. When he reached Dorothy’s house, he was in a state though he didn’t care.

He leapt down from the horse, throwing the reins over the nearest fence he could find by their driveway and marching up to the door.

He knocked hard then stood back, his eyes darting between the windows in a mad search to see if Frederica was peering out at him from any of those windows.

The door was opened, not by a butler but by Stephen.

“Ah, good morning, Allan, what brings you…” Stephen halted, evidently having seen the state Allan was in. “What’s wrong?”

“Is she here?”

“Who?”

“Who do you think?” Allan burst past Stephen and into the house.

“What’s going on? Allan?” Stephen ran after him, the two of them shooting through the entrance hall and through the two nearest rooms. “Allan!”

Allan pushed open doors, searching each room, but he found each one as empty as the last.

“Care to tell me what is going on? Or do you intend to keep acting like a madman, so I have no choice but to believe you belong in Bedlam?”

Allan didn’t listen to the jest and just pushed on with Stephen constantly pursuing him. By the time he made it back to the entrance hall, Dorothy had appeared on the staircase. Their children must have still been asleep, for she stood there alone, yawning, until she saw him.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“My question exactly.” Stephen nodded, coming to a halt at the bottom of the steps. “Your brother seems intent on ignoring me.”

“Where is she?” Allan asked again.

“Who?” Stephen repeated his earlier question, but Dorothy didn’t ask anything so foolish. She looked straight at Allan.

“Where, Dorothy? Are you hiding her here?”

“Frederica is not here,” Dorothy said quietly, moving down the stairs to meet him.

“She hast to be!” Allan hissed. “If she’s not, then I must go to Gerard’s. She may have gone to Charlotte’s house.”

Before Allan could leave though, he found his arms were taken up by Stephen and Dorothy.

“What are you doing? Let go of me!” Allan protested, finding himself dragged back into the parlor. “Well, I would expect it of Stephen, but God, Dorothy, you are strangely strong.”

“Why, thank you,” she said with false modesty then helped Stephen thrust him into a chair. “Are you going to explain why Frederica has left you? That is what has happened, isn’t it? She’s gone.”

“Yes, she’s gone,” Allan added quickly, his breathing heavy. He tried to get out of the chair again, but Dorothy blocked his way, keeping him still. For some reason, it was much more of a persuasion to have Dorothy blocking him than it was Stephen, for Stephen would be simpler to brush by.

“Gone?” Stephen repeated in shock. “But the two of you…” He trailed off, shaking his head then started again. “I know things haven’t been easy between you, but had they truly got so bad that she needed to run.”

“I don’t know!” Allan said loudly, unable to keep his anger and fears inside. “I thought we were making progress. I thought she understood that I…” He was the one to stop now.

I was falling in love with her.

He now knew what people meant when they talked about a broken heart. It was this deadening feeling in his chest. He felt nauseous too, even dizzy. His whole body had shut down because of heartbreak.

“I have to find her,” Allan said hurriedly. “I have to talk to her in the light of day, push aside our argument from last night.”

“What was the argument about?”

“She had been out for hours.” Allan waved his hand at the idea. “She received some sort of letter then she left. She said she’d be back for dinner, and she didn’t come back. Clearly, she is hiding things from me. So, I confronted her when she returned. She said…”

Allan couldn’t look at Stephen or Dorothy as he said these words. He chose to look down at the floor instead. “She said she didn’t love me, she didn’t want to be there anymore, and she asked for an annulment.”

“An annulment?” Dorothy covered her mouth in shock. Even Stephen dropped down to the chair beside Allan, apparently unable to find anything to say. “Are you sure that’s what she said?”

“Of course, I’m bloody sure,” Allan snapped, watching as Dorothy looked irked at his tone though she didn’t protest. “It’s what she said. I thought she might have come here. She left in the early hours of the morning.”

Dorothy took a third seat in the room. Much like Allan, she now avoided looking any of the rest of them in the eye though she seemed to be staring more into the distance in deep thought.

“This isn’t right,” she murmured eventually. “This isn’t like Frederica.”

“What do you mean?” Stephen asked, holding onto the calmest tone of the lot of them.

“Running away seems exactly like her, doesn’t it?” Allan reminded his sister, earning a dark glare for his words.

“No, I mean going to meet someone. Leaving the house for hours without explanation and then… asking for an annulment.” She shifted in her seat. “She and I once talked about annulments.”

“Why?” Stephen asked in sudden panic.

“Calm yourself, husband,” Dorothy rolled her eyes. “Like I’d ever want to be separated from you.” The flirtatious gaze that passed between them made Allan’s gut coil in jealousy. “I mean that she and I once talked about it just in terms of if we could ever do it. If we’d consider an annulment to be valid or not. Frederica had said outright that she didn’t think she would ever ask for an annulment. As far as she was concerned, a vow made in church was a vow until the day she died.”

Allan froze.

That’s what she said?

When he raised his head enough to look at Dorothy enquiringly, she firmly nodded, emphasizing the matter.

“It’s what she said, Allan. I don’t believe that same woman would ask you for an annulment. I thought she was happy with you.”

“Some happiness,” Allan muttered distractedly.

Clearly, she wasn’t happy, was she? Despite my best efforts to make her so.

Dorothy stood and started to pace. She was restless, her hands fidgeting constantly.

“Who was the letter from?” Stephen asked calmly.

“What?” Allan replied, not following as he thought of the letter from Frederica in his pocket.

“You said she received a letter from someone and then left shortly afterwards. Who was it from?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I didn’t see the letter. I only saw the red wax from a seal.” He couldn’t utter the deepest fear lodged inside of him — that maybe it was a lover who had written to her, and she had gone to meet him.

Dorothy abruptly stopped, turning to face Allan.

“What did she say when she left? Did she give you a reason for leaving?”

Allan didn’t want to do it. He wanted to keep that letter private, but Dorothy was one of Frederica’s closest friends. If he stood a better chance of understanding Frederica’s letter, then Dorothy would be the way.

Reluctantly, he delved his hand into his pocket and pulled it out, handing it swiftly to Dorothy. She took hold of it, unfurled it, her eyes shooting down the page as she returned to her pacing.

“What do you make of it?” Allan whispered.

“This crossed out word. What does that say?”

“I can’t make it out.” Dorothy moved toward her window and held up the letter, trying to decipher it. “I can’t tell.”

“Let me try.” Stephen stood and took the letter from her, holding it even higher to the light. His eyes widened a little. “It’s ‘safety’.”

“What?” Allan jerked.

“It is the only way I could be sure of your safety.” Stephen read the line as it was initially intended. “That’s what she first wrote before she changed it.”

No one said anything for a minute. Allan and Dorothy both just stared at each other blankly then something clicked into place in Allan’s mind.

“When Frederica came back to London, she kept asking me how you were, Dorothy. She seemed most set on ascertaining that you were well and healthy,” Allan explained slowly.

“Wait! She thought Dorothy was in danger?” Stephen asked, now reading the rest of the letter.

“Perhaps she did.” Allan stood. Now that he was beginning to see that there could be more to this, he couldn’t possibly remain still. “And now, for some reason, she thinks I am in danger too? How could that be?”

“Perhaps whoever sent that letter to her,” Dorothy said slowly. “Maybe she thinks they are a dangerous person. Someone who could hurt those she cares about around her.”

“That’s ridiculous. Why would she go and meet someone alone that she’s afraid of?” Allan asked.

“Allan, clearly you have never had cause to be frightened of anyone.” Dorothy shook her head fervently. “Fear isn’t logical. If she’s afraid of us getting hurt, then she might want to go alone if she thinks it would protect us.”

“So, who would be threatening you two?” Stephen asked. “What good would it do them by threatening the two of you?”

Allan stepped back as something else slotted into place.

“She came back from that meeting and spoke of annulment. She’d said nothing about it before that meeting. Maybe that’s what they asked for? Maybe they wanted the end of our marriage.” Allan moved in a sudden sharp circle as other things aligned in his mind.

He thought of Frederica’s parents, of the man they had tried to force her into marrying, of the very man whom Frederica had told him she was frightened. Who else would threaten Frederica into doing what he wanted her to? Who else would insist on Frederica ending her marriage?

“Dorothy.” Allan turned back around to face her. “The man who Frederica’s parents were trying to force her into marrying. Do you know who he is?”

“You don’t know?” she baulked. “Frederica never told you?”

“No, she didn’t!”

“I imagine she wanted to try and forget that part of her life,” Stephen muttered dejectedly, shaking his head. “There was a time when everyone in London knew about that scandal.”

“Well, I was on the continent, wasn’t I?” Allan said impatiently. “Would one of you just do me a favor and tell me who has been pursuing my wife and trying to make her marry him?”

Stephen sighed and looked to Dorothy, clearly feeling it was more her place than his to reveal this particular secret.

“It’s Morgan Blackwood, the Viscount Wetherington.”

Allan felt his blood run cold. He’d seen Lord Wetherington with Frederica. He’d even witnessed the fear in her. Allan had intercepted their conversation, taking Frederica away to dance. He’d done all of this, seen it firsthand, and still not realized that it was Lord Wetherington who had tried to force Frederica into marriage.

“She could be with him,” Allan muttered darkly. If all of this was because of Wetherington’s threats, then it was possible Frederica had gone to him now. “I have to find him.”