Chapter 20

Abigail was soaked to the bone and shivering.

Perhaps running from the Hall into a storm wearing nothing but a silk evening gown hadn’t been the cleverest of ideas.

But she hadn’t been thinking clearly.

All she had wanted, desperately needed, in fact, was space from Robert.

She had told him that she loved him. And he had thrown her out.

The rejection stung, but that wasn’t what hurt the most.

No, the sharp, twisting pain was her heart breaking into a million pieces, she was sure. For not only did he not say the words back, but Abigail knew now that he never would.

She hadn’t believed him when he had said he was incapable of love.

But she believed him now.

Believed him because when she’d looked into his stormy grey eyes, all she’d seen was desolation and coldness. No trace of love, or warmth, or even humanity had lurked in their depths.

And that was what she’d run from.

Now she was out in a raging storm, scared and freezing, and regretting her flight.

She shielded her eyes from the driving rain as best she could, whilst the howling wind battered her from all sides.

It was too dark to see clearly, so Abigail couldn’t be sure where she even was on the grounds, and the sporadic flashes of lightning weren’t much help.

Deciding to head back the way she’d come and just hide in her rooms until they were to travel tomorrow, Abigail turned to trek back to the house.

She didn’t want to see Robert again.

She didn’t really believe he’d killed his sister…did she?

No, of course not!

Besides, James had said there’d been a childhood tragedy. Which meant that whatever had befallen Robert’s sister had happened when he’d been a child himself.

Despite her anger, and even despite her better judgment, Abigail felt a pang of sympathy for Robert.

What sort of terrible burden had the man been carrying for all these years?

Was it any wonder that he was so closed off from the world?

Abigail drew to a stop as her confusing thoughts bombarded her.

What had she come to? Worrying about Robert in the middle of a raging storm. It was ridiculous, even for her.

Her mother had always said her impetuous behaviour would land her in trouble. And it looked as though she had been right.

In the midst of her despair, the sound of thundering water caught Abigail’s attention.

It had been impossible to hear anything above the wind and thunder up until now, but it seemed as though the storm was starting to die down a little. Even the rain was easing up, making other sounds easier to hear.

Abigail turned toward the sound and began to make her way toward it. It was still too dark to see clearly, but her eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to make out the shapes and shadows around her.

The river!

She had come as far as the river and as she inched closer, she could see that the storm had swelled the water, making it seem close to bursting its banks.

The river that she’d wanted to see yet hadn’t ever come to.

That she saw from the corner window in her bedchamber and was always curious about.

The river that had for some reason caused such an explosive reaction from Robert.

Abigail walked closer still, until she came to a tree whose branches hung over the teeming water.

She leaned against the trunk and sank slowly to the sodden riverbank.

She was already cold and soaking. Her dress was already ruined. And she was too exhausted, mentally and physically, to do anything other than sit on the riverbank and cry.

The wind picked up again, and the rain began to lash heavier than ever. The storm hadn’t abated then, it had tricked her into thinking it was softening.

Well, the storm and the man who’d stolen her heart had that in common.

Robert’s uneasiness grew steadily toward full-scale panic, but he refused to give the emotion any chance to overwhelm him. Instead, brutally pushing it aside.

They’d looked everywhere in the house.

Even the duchess had been roused from her sleep, though they’d known there was no way Abby had would have gone into that particular bedchamber.

But then, where the hell was she?

“What do we do?” He turned toward James, desperation in his voice.

James looked worried sick, which didn’t help Robert’s panic.

“I don’t know. She—perhaps she just refuses to see you?”

Robert didn’t think Abigail was the type to hide away and pretend not to be in the house.

She was far too courageous for that.

But then, she’d never been treated so abominably, he was sure.

“Bring Miss Langton’s maid to us, again,” James called to a waiting footman before facing Robert again.

“We’ll tell the maid that we just want to know Abby is all right. If she doesn’t want to—Robert! Where are you going?”

Robert ignored James’s surprised shout as he bolted from the room.

He couldn’t stand idly by while Abigail’s maid shook and stammered in front of him again, barely getting a word out.

If Abigail was hiding in her room, then he needed to apologise. He wouldn’t bother her. If she truly wanted to be left alone then he would respect that.

But, God, he needed to say sorry. He needed to see that she was there.

Finally reaching the door to Abby’s bedchamber, Robert knocked gently at first, then pounded his fist against the wood, panic making his limited patience wafer-thin.

“Abby?” he called, uncaring of the audience he had amassed.

James, the dowager, and even the footman who’d been sent to find Abby’s maid were all watching him, each looking alarmed.

The door opened, and Robert’s knees nearly gave out with relief.

But it wasn’t Abigail standing there. It was her terrified-looking maid, yet again.

“Is she here?” he demanded, knowing that he sounded every inch the imperious duke.

“N-no, your grace,” the maid stuttered. “Tis like I said earlier, Miss Langton hasn’t been back since before dinner.”

Without another word, Robert slipped past the girl and into the bedchamber, ignoring his mother’s cries of disapproval.

Abby had to be in here. She just had to be.

The alternative was that she was missing. Because of him.

His eyes darted around the room, taking in the truth of the maid’s words.

Bed made, night rail laid out, fire crackling in the hearth. But no Abigail.

“Robert, really, you cannot come into a lady’s bedchamber.”

“Any sign of her?”

His mother’s and James’s questions demanded his attention, but Robert ignored them both as his panic threatened to consume him.

He turned from them to look unseeingly out the windows.

The storm outside appeared to be dying down, but the one ravaging him on the inside was kicking up stronger than ever.

She couldn’t have gone outside in the storm, could she? Surely, she wouldn’t endanger herself like that.

A crack of lightning illuminated the grounds, and Robert caught sight of the merest flash of sky blue. A colour that didn’t belong outside in the world of greys, and blacks, and shadows.

He pressed his hands against the windowpane, his eyes desperately scanning the grounds below.

The river was visible from here, looking as monstrous as it had the night Gina had died.

Robert’s palms grew sweaty, his heart racing.

No. Surely not. Surely the fates wouldn’t be so cruel as to have led Abigail to the place of his darkest nightmares.

“Did you see that?”

His voice sounded haggard, spent.

“What?” James rushed to his side. “What did you see?”

Rather than answer, Robert’s entire focus remained on the landscape outside.

Had he imagined it?

A crack of lightning lit up the sky again.

There!

That flash of blue again.

It was Abigail. It had to be.

And she was headed straight for the river.

Fear, unlike any he’d experienced since his childhood, slammed into Robert and without another thought for James or anything else, Robert turned on his heel and ran from the room.

His mind raced and roiled with tumultuous thoughts.

Abigail was outside in a storm, alone. And she was at the one place Robert had vowed he’d never go.

But how could he not go back there? When he knew that was where she was.

He heard the shouts behind him; James and his mother calling to him and calling out instructions to servants as they chased after him.

Yet nothing was going to slow him down. Nothing was going to stop him.

He had to get to Abigail.

Robert burst through the conservatory doors that were closest to the river, and immediately he was soaked to the bone.

Abigail would catch her death of cold in this.

She didn’t have a dinner jacket to offer at least some protection. Or the better part of a bottle of brandy sloshing around her insides to keep her warm.

Has it really only been an hour ago I’d been unable to string a sentence together? Robert thought distractedly. He’d never felt so sober in his life.

Determined to get to Abigail, to get her inside and safe, Robert pushed through the driving rain and violent wind.

But as he got closer to the riverbank, another insidious fear began to slither through Robert’s veins.

A sinister and old one, one that had never released him from its clutches. It had always been there inside him, dormant save for the control it had over his life, forcing him into isolation, forcing him to push away anyone he’d ever loved.

Now, though, it was coursing through him, filling him with the same blind panic that had made him stand frozen on the riverbank for those few, life-changing seconds all those years ago.

He was close enough now to hear the thunderous water of the river. It was almost as loud as his thumping heart.

Another flash of lightning, and there she was, huddled by the same tree that Gina had fallen from.

Oh, God.

“Abby!” he managed to shout, even as panic clawed at his throat and stole the breath from his lungs.

But she’d heard.

He watched as her head lifted and turned toward him.

Watched as she scrambled to her feet.

Though he couldn’t hear her voice, he watched her mouth open in surprise then form his name.

And he watched as the muddy riverbank gave away to the riotous waters, and Abigail slipped and fell toward the river.