The Duke of Defiance (The Untouchables #5)(76)

At last, he spoke, his voice dark and brittle. “You broke Evie’s heart.”

Emotion pushed up through Jo’s chest, and her eyes burned as tears formed. She didn’t want to lose her composure here. Not now, not with Bran. “Unfortunately, I think our selfishness brought about many casualties, and now we have to live with the consequences.” She stepped around him, giving him a wide berth. “I’ll send for my things.” And then she left, going straight downstairs and out the door into a bleak future.



Bran stared at the empty doorway. Agitated, he threw off his coat and untied his cravat. What a blasted mess.

When he’d told Jo that she’d broken Evie’s heart, he’d really meant his. He loved her far more than he realized as he considered a future without her in it. He would make her his countess, but she’d refused him, citing her inability to have children.

Which could be a valid reason. Or not.

He didn’t care. He wanted her any way he could have her. Yes, he wanted children. Yes, he felt a duty to provide an heir. But when all accounts were settled, he wanted her most of all.

A small, horrid voice in the back of his head called him Bran the Defiant—still putting what he wanted before everyone else. Maybe, but it was what Evie wanted too, he was sure of it. But was it what Jo wanted? He thought so, but he couldn’t be certain.

There was only one way to find out.

First, however, he needed to talk to Evie, to soothe her.

He went down to her bedchamber, but she wasn’t there. Puzzled, he went in search of Mrs. Poole, who was in her room, up on the same floor as the nursery.

“Have you seen Evie?” he asked.

Mrs. Poole shook her head. “I haven’t, my lord. I left her with Mrs. Shaw. Perhaps they’ve gone for a walk?”

Almost certainly not, since he’d heard Evie tell Jo that she hated her. He winced at the memory. “I’ll ask Bucket. Thank you.”

The nurse’s brow furrowed. “Please let me know if aught is amiss.”

“Of course.” He hurried downstairs, out of breath, when he reached Bucket’s office in the basement.

“Bucket, have you seen Evie?”

“No, my lord.”

“What about Mrs. Shaw?”

“She left a short while ago.” Bucket looked as if he wanted to say more, but was uncertain if he should.

“If you have something of import to share, please do so,” Bran urged.

“Mrs. Shaw seemed rather distraught. She was, however, alone.”

Growing worried, Bran paced for a moment. “I need to find Evie. Ask the staff to search the house immediately.”

He went back up to the ground floor just as Mrs. Poole came down the stairs. “My lord,” she said. “Do you think Evie went to Becky’s? I don’t know why she would, but it’s not terribly far to walk and it is a rather nice day.”

It wasn’t far, and they’d walked there several times, typically only using the coach in inclement weather. Plus, he knew Jo was there, and if by some chance Evie had gone after her… It made more sense that she was still in the house—he hoped.

He joined the search, but a quarter hour later, Bucket informed him that every room had been searched. Evie wasn’t there.

Bran dashed to the mews and had a groom saddle his horse in record time. He arrived at the Kendals’ a short while later and tore up the steps to the door. Abbott admitted him.

“Where is Mrs. Shaw?”

“In the drawing room, my lord,” Abbott answered, but Bran was already halfway up the stairs by the time he finished the sentence.

He burst into the drawing room. Huddled together on the settee were Jo and her sister. “Where’s Evie?” he blurted.

Jo blinked at him and straightened. “What do you mean? She’s not here.”

He swore and ran his hand through his hair. “She’s not at home either.”

The duchess rose from the settee, her face pale. “Let’s try to remain calm. She was upset, yes?”

Jo stood with her, her eyes red and her cheeks flushed. “Yes. This is all my fault.”

Bran wanted to agree, but that would help nothing. And really, he was just as much to blame. They’d created a terrible situation where Evie was the one who would suffer for their actions. He’d invited Jo into his home and treated her like a treasured member of the family, like his countess, for heaven’s sake. Of course Evie felt as though they were a family and that their family had just been split in two.

“I’ll be right back.” The duchess hurried from the room.

“I’m so sorry,” Jo said, her voice ravaged from crying. “I handled that very poorly. I didn’t know what else to do.” She clasped her hands in front of herself and lowered her head to stare at them.

He stared at her as emotions careened through him—anger, fear, love. “I don’t care if you’re barren.”

Her head snapped up. “What did you say?”

“I don’t care if you’re barren. I love you. I can’t bear a future without you. Please don’t leave us.”

Before Jo could answer, the duchess came back into the room with Becky. “Tell them what you told me,” she said sternly.

Becky, looking rather stubborn, pouted for a moment. “I might know where she is. But I’m not supposed to tell.”