Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (Scandalous Seasons #2)(79)

“It can’t be,” he whispered.

But the empty room spoke to the truth.

Christopher folded his arms upon the top of the vanity, burying his head into his hands. A shudder wracked his frame. Then another. And another.

In all his worst imaginings, he’d never believed Sophie would leave. The ache of losing her greater than any physical pain he’d ever endured. Her leaving indicated that whatever she’d felt for him was dead.

He rose on unsteady legs. His jaw hardened. He could sit there and wallow in pity and self-defeat. Or he could go after his wife, find her, and convince her of his love.

Christopher stormed from the room, his calls for his horse thundered down the hall.

The butler met him in the foyer with Christopher’s cloak and hat. “I took the liberty of having your mount readied a short while ago,” he said.

Christopher asked as Barker assisted him into his cloak. “When did she leave?”

“Lady Waxham took the carriage nearly four hours prior.”

He jammed his beaver hat atop his head. His heart stopped. “Four hours,” he repeated, his voice flat. Christ, she could be anywhere.

“I also took the liberty of speaking with the driver. He informed me that Lady Waxham traveled to the Viscount Redbrooke’s properties.”

Of course!

Christopher folded the old family servant in a tight hug, then rapidly released him. “Well, done, Barker!”

“Will there be anything else, my lord?” Barker’s tone sounded as bored as if he’d just sat through a tedious Sunday sermon and not just been embraced by the Earl of Waxham.

“I’m increasing your wages. Again.”

Barker bowed. “Very well, my lord,” he pulled the door open. “I suggest you bring Lady Waxham home as quick as possible.”

Christopher grinned, and rushed outside, the first real stirrings of hope filled him. “I intend to.”

He mounted his mare and nudged her forward, galloping toward Redbrooke’s estate.

Only a few miles separated their lands, but the moments stretched on into an endless pattern of time. It allowed him to consider what he’d say to his wife. If he needed to plead with her to return, he would so humble himself. His pride, his happiness, his very life, meant nothing unless she was in it.

His horse, Intrepid, thundered down Redbrooke’s drive. Christopher tugged on the reins, and the mare kicked up a sea of dust and gravel.

Jumping from the horse, Christopher raced up Redbrooke’s front steps. He pounded on the front door with a single-minded intensity, cursing when silence met his efforts.

Christopher considered storming the front door, but imagined Redbrooke wouldn’t take kindly to the violation of his property.

At last, the butler, an aged servant Christopher recognized from his youth, pulled the door open. He peered down his nose at Waxham. “May I help you, my lord?”

Christopher didn’t wait for admittance. Instead, he shoved past the butler and turned a circle about the foyer. “I’m looking for Lady Waxham.”

The butler didn’t move from his post at the opened door. “Have you misplaced your wife?”

“She’s not a material object. She…” Christopher snapped his mouth closed. He’d not debate this point with the angry servant. “Will you tell her I’m here?”

The butler tilted his head a small angle. “I would. That is, if Lady Waxham were here.”

Christopher’s heart skipped a beat. “She’s not here.” His mouth suddenly dry.

“No. She’s not.”

“I don’t believe you.”

A beleaguered sigh escaped the older man. “My apologies. But she’s not here.”

Christopher cursed. He glanced up the long, spiraling staircase, and briefly considered invading the house and hunting room by room for Sophie. But he suspected his search would turn up naught.

His heart would know if she was here…and the cold, emptiness spoke as testament to the servant’s pronouncement.

He took a steadying breath. “My driver delivered her here.”

“Did he?”

Christopher’s brows dipped. “He did. So at some point, my wife was here.”

“Well, she is not here now, my lord,” he added as a seeming afterthought. The butler motioned to the door. “Now, if you will.” The meaning was clear. The butler wanted him gone from the property.

Desolation swept throughout him, and he fought to keep from staggering under the weight of it. Sophie had gone and he didn’t have a bloody clue as to where she could be.

The butler cleared his throat.

“Thank you for your time,” Christopher murmured and took his leave. He stuck his foot in the door, just as the servant made to close it in his face. “For what it is worth, I love my wife.”

The butler frowned. His brow screwed upright, and he appeared to take pity on Christopher. “I suspect if you really consider it, my lord, you know where she is.” He dangled that very subtle clue, and then closed the door.

Christopher spun on his heel and peered out at the lake in the distance, which separated the two families’ estates. God, had it really only been yesterday that he’d pushed Sophie upon the swing? Who could have imagined that one’s life could unravel so completely in so short a time?