Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (Scandalous Seasons #2)(80)

He paced the front steps of Redbrooke’s property, all the while considering the servant’s words. The man had alluded to the fact that Christopher surely knew where Sophie had run off to.

Surely she’d returned home to her mother and brother. Christopher bounded down the stairs and climbed astride his mount. “Let’s go find my wife, girl.”

Late that evening, he arrived in London. His valet would have cringed at the state of Christopher’s rumpled attire and unshaven face. Somewhere in his journeys, he’d lost the tie at the base of his neck, and his hair now hung, ragged and wind-whipped about his shoulders.

He pounded on the door until the butler, Ralston pulled it open.

Christopher stormed inside. “I’m looking for my wife.”

Ralston blinked. “My lord?”

“Ralston, what is…?” The Viscount Redbrooke froze at the top of the landing and frowned down at Christopher. “That will be all, Ralston.” The servant shuffled off, leaving Christopher staring up at the viscount. “A bit late for a social visit, Waxham.”

Christopher climbed the stairs. “Where is she?”

His brother-in-law blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“My wife. Where is she?”

The viscount ran an assessing gaze over Christopher’s unkempt figure. “Christ, you lost my sister.”

“She’s not here.” The energy seemed to slip from Christopher’s body. He slid down onto the top step and stared unseeing down the long stairs to the foyer below.

Redbrooke settled a hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t we retire to my office?”

Christopher allowed the other man to help him to his feet and usher him to his office.

All the while his mind spun.

Sophie had left Redbrooke’s countryseat…but where had she gone? His hands curled into fists as he imagined her traveling, on her own. Christ, anything could happen. He’d driven her to this. He’d…

“You look like you need a drink,” Redbrooke murmured, when they reached his office. He poured a tall glass of brandy and held it out to Christopher.

“No.” He needed to be clearheaded. Spirits would only cloud his thoughts.

“Drink it,” Redbrooke insisted, pressing the glass into Christopher’s fingers. He jerked his chin at the brandy. “Drink.”

Christopher took a long swallow and set the glass down with a loud thump on a nearby table .

“Now, tell me what the hell happened.”

“She’s not here?” Christopher tried again, praying that the other man had merely been protecting Sophie, that she was in fact here.

“No.”

Christopher sank into the nearest seat and buried his head in his hands. She was gone and he didn’t have a bloody clue where she was, or how to win back her love and trust. Instead, he sat here drinking brandy with her brother.

“Waxham?”

Christopher raised his head. “She overheard my father. Said something to the effect of me wedding her for her dowry.”

Redbrooke folded his arms at his chest. “And didn’t you?”

“I never cared about Sophie’s money.”

The viscount’s eyes narrowed as if skeptical of Christopher’s claim.

Redbrooke, just like Sophie, deserved the truth. Christopher spoke, sharing everything with the other man.

When he finished, Redbrooke remained silent for a long while, and then, “I don’t know where she is.”

All the hope Christopher carried in his breast died. “I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused your sister. Sorry I ruined any possible match between her and Mallen.” Sophie would have been far-better off with the duke than with him.

Redbrooke waved off the apology. “My mother longed for the match between Sophie and Mallen. I just wanted her to be happy.” He must have seen the shock in Christopher’s eyes for he shrugged. “I’m not a total bastard. I’ve had several offers for her hand since she made her come out. None of them would have made her a good husband.”

Hell, who knew? All these years, Christopher had taken Redbrooke as a pompous, condescending ass, more interested in his status and wealth than anything else. It turned out the other man did value something more than his image. Sweet Sophie.

“Do you have any idea where she might have gone?”

Redbrooke caught his jaw between his thumb and forefinger, rubbing it while he considered Christopher’s question. “Sophie has always been rather lonely. Never had many friends and…”

Christopher’s heart stopped, and then sped up double-time. He spun around, racing for the door.

“Where are you going, Waxham?” Redbrooke called.

“To get my wife.”

Redbrooke grinned. “You know where she’s gone?”

Christopher paused, his hand on the door-handle. He couldn’t be certain, but he had the first, real hopeful suspicion since he’d discovered her missing. “I believe I do.”

“Well, then let me offer you the use of my carriage. And you look like hell. Why don’t you rest for the evening and tomorrow…?”

“No. The use of another horse will, however, be appreciated.”

Redbrooke gave him a long look. “Very well. And, Waxham?” He called when Christopher stepped outside the door.