Chapter 26

Rhys spent a sleepless night barricaded in his study after he left Dani's chambers.

The picture of those forlorn blue eyes, bright with unshed tears, had been too much for him. So was the knowledge that she was right next door and wanting him. But he knew he couldn't have her. Already, he'd hurt her unbelievably and he'd been such a fool with those accusations. Dani was not deceitful and she would not have deceived him into marriage. She may have wanted it, yes, but he was sure now that it had never been her intention to fool him. 

Her poignantly sweet declarations of her love were testament to that and he had been a fool to not have seen it for what it was. Remorse swept through him, pricking his heart with guilt and shame. He had been despicable, an utter cad. He had watched as the sky lightened with a new day, dimmed by the cover of low clouds that were full with the promise of rain. A brisk wind carried a chill across the trees spread over the lawn of Falmouth and Rhys studied this all dispassionately, his only thought of the woman who could make him lose himself in her.

It was nearly mid-morning when Rhys witnessed his only carriage brought to the front of the castle drive and several footman laden it with trunks-

Dani's trunks.

She was leaving.

His heart ached.

Rhys couldn't blame her. He knew why she was leaving, why she had chosen to do so. He wasn't making life easy for her here at Falmouth, being married to a beast. It would be best for her to find some place to reside where she could be happy, where she could forget about him and continue with her life.

But, Rhys thought, after the previous evening there was the possibility that she could be with child- his child. Spasmodically, his hands clenched at the thought- his own son or daughter. It had never been a possibility up until now.

A family, people he could love and who loved him in return.

He shook the thoughts from his head, too painful to consider or even imagine. Dani was right to leave him. If there was a child... well, he would have to make a decision about that later. There was every possibility that she wasn't carrying his child, too.

At the soft knock at his door, Rhys unconsciously uttered the word, "Enter," but his eyes were fastened on the carriage from his window. He sensed her cross the threshold and felt the unease she brought into the study with her.

"I've come to inform you that I'm leaving," Dani told him anxiously and Rhys turned to her, noting that she was twisting the ribbons of her bonnet between clenched fingers held in front of her.

His heart gave an agonizing lurch, yearning to hold her in his arms, to bury his face in the delicious strands of hair that smelt like honey and all things pure. But he resisted the urge and contented himself just with the sight of her looking demure and unsure and beautiful in the middle of his study in one of those dresses that just didn't quite fit properly but looked endearing nonetheless.

When the silence drew itself out uncomfortably, Dani gave him a stern look and tilted her stubborn little chin up a notch. He longed to kiss it. "I see you've put the cloak back on," she noted, annoyed.

"Yes."

The bottom of her dress made a subtle and sudden movement and Rhys suspected that she had just stamped her foot in frustration, the impact muffled by the thick rug she was standing on. "Why are you being so ridiculous?" she hissed, throwing her hands in the air, the bonnet dangling wildly from her fingertips.

"I don't blame you for leaving, Danielle," he explained in a low voice.

"Why?" she demanded, giving him a dark look. "You should. You should be fighting to make this marriage work. Lord knows I have."

"I'll not hurt you again."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, that's just ridiculous," she muttered furiously and crossed her arms. "Fine, be like that. I'll be staying with Victoria until you come to your senses."

"It's going to rain," he pointed out, not sure why he did so but maybe just to keep her in his presence for a moment longer.

She gave him one of those disbelieving looks before turning on her heel and prancing out of the study. He didn't deny himself the torture of watching her go and did not divert his gaze from studying her form as she climbed into the carriage aided by a footman, the strong wind blowing the bonnet from her neatly coiffured head and tautening the material of her gown across her thighs and midriff.

He sighed dismally and reached for the brandy.

"Well," Grayson's voice drawled from the threshold of the study, "you've certainly botched things up this time, my lord."

"Shut up."

Within five minutes of having departed Falmouth Castle, the heavens opened and fat, relentless droplets of rain began to pummel Dani's carriage.

Moodily, she also detected a leak. Trust the earl of Falmouth to own such a contraption. It hadn't probably seen a single day of repair since its day of purchase.

Dani sullenly studied the passing landscape that was as bleak as she felt, desolate and comparatively gothic. A brooding romantic would find plentiful inspiration from the melancholic scenery shrouded in dark and the hovering clouds laden with threat. It had been a last resort to leave Rhys, but she felt that she had very little option left to her. By leaving him, she was letting him know that it was up to him to fix this, to make this marriage work. She had done all she could, given him all that she had. It was under his directive now and all Dani could do was wait it out and pray that he did indeed come to his senses.

Her back ached with protest, the hard uncomfortable seats of the Ashcroft carriage biting into her spine. She would be immobile later because of this, another blame to lie at his door. Silly man.

Dani had been through a lot in her young years. For goodness sake, she'd toppled from a horse and nearly broke her back; she'd nursed an ailing mother, and she had emerged from all those

situations the better. With Rhys... well, the man was quickly becoming the most vexing thing she had ever dealt with before.

Harrumphing in a very unladylike manner, Dani pulled the book she had brought along to read and flipped it open in her lap just as the carriage gave a vicious lurch, tumbling her to the floor with a painful jolt. Her back convulsed with agony, jarring awkwardly against the unrelenting wooden edge of the bench.

"I say," she called, thumping on the wall to get the driver's attention, "is everything alright?"

The only answer that was forthcoming was a series of violent jerks before the coach veered sharply to the left and began to tilt. She was thrown against something hard, her back colliding against it with piercing agony, before blackness surrounded her and the pain abated.

It was late afternoon when Rhys received word that George Smith had called on him at Falmouth. Of foul-temperament and ill-disposition due to the increasing hours spent without Dani's presence at the castle, Rhys hardly felt compelled to converse with the authoritative old man but he couldn't very well refuse him an audience. After all, he was his wife's uncle and one of her only living relatives.

Grayson, unbelievably, showed George to Rhys's study and ushered the man inside. He ambled slowly towards the large, dark desk as he scrutinised all the various displays and shelves within the study with an experienced eye. When George finally reached Rhys's desk, he sniffed the air thoughtfully before announcing, "You're foxed."

"You're correct," Rhys retorted, finding his tongue decidedly thick nestled within his mouth. Definitely needed some more brandy to loosen it up. He reached for the decanter and shook it in George's direction. "May I offer?"

There was a look of stern disapproval on George's countenance having been a man never to turn to an alcoholic vice in all his life. It was there but an imperceptible moment before it disappeared and he relented with a wave of his hand. "You'd best pour yourself a glass," he told Rhys, "you're going to need it when you hear what I've got to say."

Rhys sloshed the amber liquid into the tumbler on his desk, missing much of the glass, before asking, "You've come to speak about Dani."

"Yes," George said slowly.

"You've come to tell me off."

George gave him a dark glance. "We can save that for later," he told him sharply. "Rhys, it is not your behaviour that brings me here today, which I am told has been quite deplorable and worthy of some form of reprimand. Regardless, that is not my reason for visiting."

Rhys swallowed a hefty amount of brandy and dropped the glass back onto the desk. "What exactly could be the problem then?"

George sighed shakily, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb as if quelling the stirrings of a headache. "There's been an accident," he began in a tense voice but before he could continue, Rhys had bolted from his chair and slammed his hands on the desk, all insobriety vanished from his demeanour.

"Danielle?" he growled harshly.

George paused and held out a hand to calm the man who was now clearly beyond all rational comprehension. "Now, bear in mind I haven't seen her since-"

"What happened?"

The raw agony in his voice caused George to go suddenly quiet, knowing well the sound of anguish and guilt in a man. He had, after all, been working with people who broke the law for most of his life. He was able to detect when they were sincere, when they were not to be trusted, and when they truly regretted an action that may have caused another person harm, be it a murder or an accident. Rhys Ashcroft sounded like that person.

"The carriage broke an axle," George explained. "Our only concern is her back-"

"Where?"

"The Sinclair's but be reasonable. I only received the missive a few-"

Georgedidn'tbother finishing his sentence. Rhys was already out of the study.