“Wherein sorrow and despair take hold.”

It was the early hours of the morning when Gabriel finally stirred himself to move. He looked up and saw with revulsion the destruction surrounding him. It felt like his guts had been sucked out of him. He was nothing but a hollow, dried-up husk. His father’s voice berated him, but he was too numb to even acknowledge it now. Seeing everything in such disorder was enough to make him want to retch, though, and he knew he had to put things straight.

Memories of another night came back to him in a rush as he bent to pick up the broken pieces. That, too, had been a night full violence and terror and regret. His stomach roiled and he moved quicker, feeling that the memories might go away if only he could tidy things and put everything back as it had been. His skin was clammy, everything slipping through his fingers, and a prickling sweat broke out over his flesh, and his breath came fast as his anxiety grew.

It was hard to get everything just right, as his hands were shaking and over and over, and he cursed himself for being so bloody weak. He picked up every broken shard, heedless that he’d cut himself until he bled over the pages of a book and he was forced to throw it in the bin, too, along with the evidence of his shocking lack of control. Those pieces seemed to burn as bright as a dozen candles despite the dim light of the room, and in the end, he was forced to take the bin downstairs to the kitchens and throw the entire thing in with the household refuse. He buried it under a mountain of food scraps, revolted by the filth on his hands but needing to bury the shame of it out of sight. He washed his hands over and over, but the sun was beginning to dawn before he was satisfied, and he hurried back to his study before the staff saw him and realised their master really had run mad at last.

Not that they didn’t already know it. If they hadn’t guessed it long since, then any doubts would have been put to rest by last night’s performance. At least he paid them well enough and they feared him badly enough to keep their bloody mouths shut. He did not need to worry about his humiliation becoming the next story in the gossip sheets. They simply wouldn’t dare. They knew too well what he was capable of. They knew he was a monster.

Gabriel closed the study door behind him and went to reach for the slate wolf’s head, pausing before his hand could close over it. She had given him that. He snatched his hand back and turned away from it. There was no she, no her, no woman. She had been the figment of a deranged mind, nothing more. He had seen what he’d wanted to see, not the truth. The truth was a grasping young woman who had hoped to get what she could from him, and had failed.

There was a small voice inside of him that protested, that reminded him of everything that young woman had said and done, but he stamped on it. He would not think of her. He would not.

He would go away. His property in France had sat empty for too long, and his affairs there had long since needed his attention. He would go away, and by the time he got back, the woman would be gone, probably long since married to some other rich, titled fool who had fallen for her lovely and all too willing charms.

The thought hit him in the gut like a fist, and he hauled in a breath. No. It was a lie, a mirage. She was not what he’d thought. She never had been. But he would endure. He would endure and he would have his revenge.

Perhaps you’ve had it already. That cold, hateful voice echoed in his mind. Even now she could be carrying your bastard. Wouldn’t that be a fitting end to this affair? If Winterbourne was forced to raised your bastard child. I might even feel proud of you.

Gabriel ran from the room, flinging open the door and running across the entrance hall, barely making it outside before he retched, heaving over and over as he began to shake.

No. No. Not that.

The idea that he might have given her a child was …

He leaned against the wall, watching as the sun rose on the horizon. It blurred as he blinked, the startling orange growing ever more vivid and colouring the dramatic clouds that had begun to gather, and hung low in the skies, promising storms would be coming soon.

He closed his eyes against the beauty of it, too full of pain to take any pleasure in anything anymore. He must get away from here. He must go now.

Before he proved to everyone just how weak and pathetic he really was.

***

Crecy saw Damerel house come into view with a surge of happiness and no little relief. It had been two days, two whole days since she had seen Gabriel. They had visited friends the day after her last visit, as she’d told him, but the weather had closed in and they had been forced to spend the night. Their hosts were so welcoming and delighted by their visit that it had been impossible to leave until after lunch the next day, and so any wistful ideas of visiting Gabriel had been taken from her.

She hoped he wouldn’t be too angry with her for breaking her word. Not that it had been her fault, and he needed to understand that, but she felt she had begun to understand the way in which Gabriel undermined himself, how he sabotaged any hopes for his own happiness. It stemmed from a lack of self-worth, that much she was certain of. No one had ever taken the time or the trouble to get to know him, to understand him, and so he believed himself not worth the attempt. It was why he trusted her so little, and why something like leaving him alone for an extra day would immediately be accompanied by dark thoughts and speculation about her motives. Still, she would cross that bridge when she got to it.

Leaving her horse with the groom, she hurried to the door, a little surprised that Gabriel hadn’t come out to meet her. Of course, he couldn’t have known that she was coming. With regret, she realised that he might not even be here. Perhaps he had business in town?

Her fears grew as Piper opened the door to her. There was sympathy in the old man’s eyes and a look that made her heart grow cold.

“Hallo, Piper, is … is Lord DeMorte not at home today?”

Piper’s face was grave as she walked into the house and he closed the front door.

“Would you come through to the parlour, Miss Holbrook?” he said, his voice so gentle that anxiety curled around her heart and began to squeeze.

“What is it, Piper?” she asked, following him into the parlour. To her surprise, the butler closed the door, and she realised that he was trying to keep the other staff from overhearing what he had to say.

“He’s gone, miss,” he said, such regret in his eyes that Crecy did not have the luxury of misunderstanding him.

Her breath caught and she sat down. A rush of cold seemed to cast over her in a wave and she clasped her hands together, finding them clammy. “Gone where?” she whispered.

Piper hesitated, and then his face softened. “France, I believe.”

Crecy swallowed. The urge to burst into tears was so strong that it was almost overwhelming, but she would not embarrass the poor butler with such a scene. He had always been kind to her, and it wasn’t like she hadn’t known the risks.

“Do … do you have an address?”

Piper shook his head. “His lordship has always been cagey about his property abroad. I believe he considered it wise to have a bolt hole that no one else knew of, in case …” He hesitated and Crecy nodded.

“I understand, Piper, you need not explain.” She knew well enough that Gabriel played many dangerous games. If things went awry, it would be just like him to have a safe place to retreat to. “Is there anyone who might have the address? Someone he trusts, perhaps?” The idea that he might trust anyone at all was slim but she had to ask.

Piper looked torn for a moment, loyalty to his master warring against his desire to help her. In the end, he sat down, his voice confiding as he leaned towards her.

“His man of business, he has an office in Bath, but …”

Crecy snorted and shook her head. “Yes, I can imagine the likelihood of him giving out Lord DeMorte’s address to a single female of my ilk.” She looked down at her feet, knowing she could not hear the answer to her next question and hold back her tears if Piper was nice to her.

“Did he say when he would be back?” There was at least a little hope that he had gone to cool off and would be back in a week or so, but her hopes were short lived as Piper shook his head.

“No, miss, but … I was given to believe he would not be back before the summer.”

“Oh.” Crecy concentrated on breathing. It seemed a remarkably hard thing to do. The idea that she would need to keep on doing it, keep on forcing herself to breathe in and out for six months, at least, before she would have the opportunity to even try and explain. It was too painful to contemplate. “Why?”

Piper was quiet for a long moment and she looked up, wondering if he was angry with her for asking.

“A man came to him. Lord DeMorte had charged him with … discovering who it was that his cousin, the marquess, had recently married.”

Crecy gasped, knowing that this was all the explanation that she needed. She covered her mouth with her hand, trying so hard to hold on to her dignity, but a tear over-spilled despite her best efforts, and was quickly followed by another.

“I’m afraid that the information came from Lady Scranford,” Piper continued, his voice grave.

“Oh, no.” Crecy didn’t need him to say more. Lady Scranford had hated her on sight, and things had gotten progressively worse over the period of time they’d been guests at Longwold. The woman had hoped to get Winterbourne herself, and had embarrassed herself in the attempt. When Belle had succeeded where she had failed … well, that the woman held a grudge would be to put it mildly. Crecy could only imagine the story that had been given to Gabriel, but she doubted it was flattering, and that she and Belle and been painted as unscrupulous fortune hunters, she had no doubt at all. “This is my own stupid fault,” she said, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. “I should have told him myself, I should have explained. I meant to, you see,” she said, looking up at Piper, who ought to be revolted and scandalised by her, but who only seemed to be compassionate of her plight. “I was going to yesterday, only …” She blushed, then, wondering what Piper knew. He hadn’t treated her any differently when she had come downstairs after … after. But she didn’t doubt that he had guessed she had been compromised. “Only it had been such a perfect day, and … and I was afraid,” she admitted. “I was frightened he wouldn’t believe me, and I thought, if I could only have a day or two more to convince him of my feelings …”

She buried her head in her hands and was surprised a moment later when Piper moved closer to her, laying a fatherly hand on her shoulder.

“Perhaps … perhaps it’s for the best, miss,” he said, his voice grave but full of kindness. “I’ve known his lordship since he was twelve years old, and … well, I’ve tried to guide him, to … to be something of a father figure, I suppose, but … Well, I never did succeed, put it that way.” The old man shook his head and gave her a sad smile. “Perhaps if I’d known him before his parents did what they did, but he’d been alone in this blasted house two years before I got here, and I don’t think anyone had really done anything more than feed and clothe him, and make sure he was educated befitting his station. I don’t think he’d had a kind word from anyone before I got here, and by then, well he was aloof, to put it mildly.”

Crecy cried harder, shaking her head. It wasn’t for the best. It couldn’t be. Hearing everything she had always suspected put into words was heartbreaking. To know that Gabriel was now more alone than ever, and believed that she had lied to him for nothing more than avarice … She couldn’t bear it. With her best efforts, she had struggled to convince him of her loyalty, of her love for him, but with someone pouring such poison in his ears … she didn’t stand a chance.

“May I write him a letter, please, Piper?”

“Of course, miss,” he said, getting to his feet again. “Only, I know his lordship spent some time informing all of his business associates that he would be away for several months, and that they should correspond via his man of business. Usually, he would send someone every few weeks to collect any mail and deliver it to him, but … in the circumstances …”

Crecy nodded, but she had to take every possible chance to reach him.

“Well, surely he’ll send someone sooner or later?” she said, trying to smile and appear hopeful so that Piper wouldn’t keep on looking like he was worried to death for her. She was strong, she knew that. She had always been single-minded and determined, and now she must be strong for both her and Gabriel. Sooner or later, she would see him again, and when she did … She drew in a breath and composed herself before tears overwhelmed her again.

“I shall bring you pen and paper, Miss Holbrook.”

“Oh, no, Piper, I know I ought not ask you, but … but may I write it in his study? I …” She let out a breath and gave him a smile that she knew must look pathetic, indeed. “I know it’s foolish of me, but … I would like to sit in his study, just for a moment.”

Piper gave her a smile of such understanding that it was nearly her undoing, but he nodded. “Come along then, miss. I’ll take you there.”