My Dangerous Duke (The Twisted Dukes #2)

Chapter 21

“ E leanor? Darling?” Penelope called as she opened the door to the armory.

After her own sister turned her away, Eleanor had been residing with Penelope and Rhysand for less than a week now but she still refused to talk about Xander.

Inside, the armory of Penelope and Rhysand’s home, Eleanor did not turn away from her target. Instead, she chucked another dagger toward the center. From behind her, she felt Penelope’s eyes on her. Her friend was no doubt worried. She had wanted Eleanor to talk immediately, but when she had first arrived, she could not do so without her voice quaking. Now, though, her pain had turned to anger, and that was something she could deal with.

“How are you feeling?” Penelope asked tentatively. “Are you- are you ready to talk?”

“Yes.” She grit out, picking up another blade, her eyes full of enraged focus. “I knew it could not be real and I fell for it anyway!”

When she had first arrived, Penelope and even Rhysand had corralled her into their parlor, plying her with food and drink and questions. Eleanor had not been able to take it; not ready to just sit and stew, she requested to retire. Once she was shown to her guest room, however, she found herself with nothing to do but pace the floor and contemplate what baubles she could smash without hurting her friends’ feelings.

In her growing frustration, she had flung open the window and screamed with all her might; the rage pouring from her throat. It was then Rhysand had a servant sent up to her, urging her to take her frustrations out in his armory. She had been reluctant at first, thinking that she would be made to box like Xander- a sport she did not much care for. But instead, Rhysand and Penelope met her by the target. After a quick tutorial on how to throw, Eleanor quickly discovered that not only did the exercise make her feel better physically, but it also untangled the utter mess in her mind.

She hurled the knife again, but this one did not stick. Instead, it clanged sideways into the knives already stuck into the board and brought them all clattering to the ground. A servant, who had been standing well off to the right, walked to the board and began to collect them.

“Eleanor, honey, come have a seat,” Penny implored, heading toward their makeshift tea table, “You have been throwing for hours today. You need to eat something and give your arms a rest.”

“Do not call me honey,” Eleanor implored, sounding more emotional than angry for the first time since she had arrived as she whirled toward Penny. “He called me that.”

Eleanor’s voice broke as she let out the four words, and Penelope was by her side in an instant. She tightly wrapped her in her arms, and though she was thankful Eleanor accepted her hug, she wished her friend would just cry already.

In her friend’s arms, Eleanor felt the rest of her resolve wane. The tears she had choked back since leaving Larsen finally welled their way to the surface and ripped through her eyes and throat with a vengeance. Her first sob felt like a shot to her chest as she finally released it, and she felt herself sag into Penny’s embrace.

“Damn him,” she whispered at first, feeling the tears flood down her cheeks. Then, as she pulled away from Penny’s hug and turned away she screamed “Damn them both!”

It was not just Xander’s fault she was in such a predicament; though his betrayal somehow hurt far worse. It was her father’s too. If he did not need to be better than anyone else, she would have never been put in such a position. She could have married for love. She could have been truly happy- not whatever facade Xander had given her.

This was all just business from the start.

Eleanor had thought- for a moment, that he truly was falling in love with her. That she was falling in love with him. She had built a fantasy about whatever scheme that tied them together; where it would just fade away one day and they would just be together.

She had been wrong. Very wrong.

Disgusted with how her body heaved its sorrow, Eleanor worked to reign her tears back in. She buried her pain deep, covering it with her rage, and drew in deep, heavy breaths as she went back to the dart board. As he had so many times already, the servant had collected the knives she had thrown and placed them neatly back on her table.

“Darling, wait, do you not want to talk some more?” Penny asked, stilling Eleanor’s hand before she could pick up her first knife. “You were starting to open up.”

Eleanor looked over at her, her eyes full of raw emotion, and Penny’s look of worry disappeared.

“Right then,” Penny agreed, lifting her hand away from Eleanor’s.

Eleanor picked up the knife, palmed it, then took her aim. As the tip buried itself into the top center of the board, Penny began to clap behind her.

“Good throw, darling!” Penny praised eagerly. “That’s it, let him have it!”

“She is not here, Your Grace,” Victor Langley stated, sounding almost bored with Xander’s line of questioning.

Rage pooled in Xander’s heart and he clenched his fists. It would not do to just go around throwing punches and he knew it. At least, not anymore.

“Have you heard from her?” Xander asked, his tone tight and short. “She has been gone for a few days now and I have not received any word.”

Xander knew that he should have never let her leave that day Richard ruined everything. He should have stayed his anger, followed her, and explained that he had fallen in love with her. The problem was, he had not realized such a thing until after she had left him. Now, he was a in fury trying to find her and bring her back.

“I have not,” Victor replied in his bored tone, “Which is a blessing. It seems whatever Eleanor touches is destroyed. Even if you are done with her, I do not want her back in my home.”

Victor waved to his butler to shut the door before Xander could snarl back his reply. His entire body vibrated and begged to slam his fists against the door. But it would not do, and he knew it. The only thing he could do was go on to her sister’s house, in hopes that she was there.

“Your Grace?”

Xander looked wearily up at his valet, and the man’s shoulders sagged. He did not have to say anything for him to understand; Eleanor was not there.

“You will find her, Your Grace,” Jared insisted, letting loose his defeated posture. “I am sure of it.”

“I do not know where else to look,” Xander confessed, pressing his knuckles to his lips as he peered out the carriage window.

He had been everywhere. To her sister’s, to Lady Cordelia’s, Lady Marina’s- even to his grandmother’s house in Bath. He had spoken with Rhysand at the club and the man said he had not seen her. If she was not with them or her family, where could she be?

For a moment, his thoughts briefly flitted to Patrick Hislop. She had affection for the man that was plain, but would she trust him enough to run to? A dark, possessive feeling took over Xander as he thought of Eleanor running to him for protection. Protection from you, you bastard, his conscience seethed. Xander winced inwardly and pulled himself out of thought.

“Have you checked up on Patrick Hislop?” Xander asked Jared.

Jared nodded.

“Our investigator says he left for Ireland two days before Her Grace left and has yet to return,” Jared informed him. “He was able to speak with some of the servants and they have confirmed that no lady of any sort has been to the house for months.”

Xander settled slightly, relieved to hear the information. He would still check on the house personally tomorrow, though, to be sure.

“Pardon, Your Grace,” Jared said as they neared home.

He had not said a word in hours. Neither of them had.

Xander dragged his eyes to the man and saw that his faithful valet looked just as downtrodden as he felt.

“I have never seen you this way,” Jared went on, bowing his head humbly. “It is not my business, but it is most worrying, Your Grace. If there is anything else I can do to help. Anything at all, please tell me.”

Though their relationship could and would never be familial, Xander felt a surge of appreciation for Jared. He was a faithful valet, always had been, and he was grateful for his help more so now than ever.

“I am going to go into the house on the chance that she has returned,” Xander replied, “But if you could get the driver to gather some fresh horses and then head into town, it would be most helpful. Check around the market, the shops. Listen for any gossip that might lead us to her.”

“It is done,” Jared replied solemnly, opening the carriage door for his master.

Inside the manor, Xander paced through the rooms one by one. Mrs. Gaines insisted that Eleanor had not returned home during his absence, but he needed to check for himself. The house was vast, with well over twenty-five rooms. But he checked them all, his heart sinking every time he found each one lacking her presence.

He had been wrong, so wrong about wanting to get out of their marriage. He should have given them a chance. Should have given her a chance. He should not have fought what his mind, body, and heart were telling him. But he had, and now she was gone.

I only hope she is safe. If anything were to happen to her, I…

As Xander’s mood grew darker, so did the weather outside. Strong winds were starting to gust against the great house, making the windows creak as thunder and lightning shook the earth. Xander looked wearily to the hallway windows as he closed the door to the final room- empty, like the rest of them. Another flash of lightning lit up the sky then, and as it did so, heavy raindrops began to splatter against the panes.

The sound of the raindrops ricocheted in his ears loudly, maddeningly. Thunk, thunk, thunk. Gone, gone, gone. She was gone.

“Your Grace!” Mrs. Gaines shouted from the end of the hall, giving him a fright.

“Heaven’s, Mrs. Gaines,” he snapped, whirling on her. “What are you trying to do? Give me a coronary?”

“Apologies, Your Grace, but it is Jared!” Mrs. Gaines exclaimed, waddling toward him as fast as she could.

Xander’s heart pulsed in his ears as he strode toward her.

“He has just sent a rider from town,” Mrs. Gaines went on, thankfully not making him wait any longer, “There was a maid from the Huxton Residence there that claimed that our duchess has been staying there.”

Relief rushed through Xander’s veins, but it was quickly replaced with fury and betrayal. Rhysand had lied to him. They were not really friends, and he knew that. But he had lied. A sin he would surely be punished for that later. For now, though, he had to focus on Eleanor and beg for her forgiveness.