The Duke's Perfect Wife

“Ian likes to be alone sometimes,” Beth said. “He doesn’t like crowds.”

“We aren’t a crowd,” Hart snapped. “We’re family. You should have told me at once that he’d gone.”

At the note in Hart’s voice, Eleanor looked up from kissing the two babies. Hart’s hands were clenched in his gloves, his jaw tight. He had a right to be worried after the shooting by the Parliament buildings, but his alarm seemed to go beyond that.

“I didn’t know,” Beth said. “Ian’s gotten better about telling me when he’s going on one of his long walks, but he was already up and out when I woke this morning.”

“And you didn’t bother to tell me,” Hart repeated.

“You were at Hungerford all morning, sending telegrams to London,” Beth said. “And I did not think it was any of your business.”

Hart went still at her words, and his look turned dangerous. Beth lifted her chin and met his gaze.

Eleanor understood perfectly well why Beth hadn’t mentioned Ian’s absence to Hart. Hart had the habit of walking into his brothers’ houses and attempting to take over their lives. Sometimes Ian felt the need to slip away, out from under Hart’s heavy-handedness. Cameron and Mac could shout at Hart when they grew angry at his interfering, but Ian’s defense was to disappear. Ian sometimes needed to be alone, to find rest from his overwhelming family before he faced them again. Eleanor had heard about the battle Beth had fought with Hart to let Ian live as he needed.

Beth spoke calmly. “I’ve been married to Ian for nearly three years now, and I know what he does. A stay in London always unnerves him, you know that. I imagine he went out today to enjoy not having people surrounding him. He’ll return when he’s ready.”

Hart tried to pin Beth with his stare, but Jamie squirmed to get down from Beth’s arms, and Beth turned her full attention to her son. Hart’s jaw went tighter as Beth blatantly ignored him, and he turned and strode out of the house. Two of the dogs broke free and followed him.

Eleanor caught up to Hart in the drive. She dodged in front of him to make him stop, and Ruby and Ben roamed around them, tails moving.

“I know you’re worried about the shooting,” she said. “But Ian’s not a fool. He’s more careful than you are, in many ways. I telegraphed Ainsley about the incident in case you didn’t bother telling anybody, so Ian would have known to take precaution. I’m certain he only went fishing. You know how he loves to fish.”

The terrible worry did not leave Hart’s eyes. “He does. Says the water calms him.” He scanned the empty fields. “I’m going to look for him.”

He started to walk on, but Eleanor got in front of him again. “I believe you are the one in the most danger, Hart Mackenzie. Whoever it was shot at you.”

“I won’t go alone. I have my own men, and Cameron employs a horde.”

“Ian will be distressed if a horde comes upon him,” Eleanor pointed out.

“Better he’s distressed than dead.”

Hart’s words were quiet, but Eleanor read profound fear in his eyes. She knew he’d never admit to that fear outside of being tortured, but Hart was deeply afraid, and Eleanor knew why.

Protection of Ian had been Hart’s driving force for three decades. Eleanor had first seen that drive when Hart had taken Eleanor to meet Ian in the asylum. She remembered Hart questioning and bullying the doctors about Ian’s care, his routine, his accommodations. Whatever Hart Mackenzie had done for the last thirty years of his life, good or ill, he’d done most of it for Ian.

Eleanor touched Hart’s chest, feeling his heart hammering beneath her palm. “I do agree with you, Hart. If people are shooting, then you need to keep an eye on Ian. But even so, we must be calm. We’ll find him.”

His focus switched sharply to her, anything but calm. “There is no we. You need to stay here.”

“I can help look, you know. We all can.”

“No.” The word was fierce. “Finding Ian will be difficult enough. I do not want to have to scour the countryside for you and all my sisters-in-law at the same time. If Ian returns on his own, I need you here to help Beth keep him home.”

“You mean you don’t want me underfoot.”

“I don’t. You’ll distract me. I can’t afford to be distracted just now.”

“I distract you. How flattering.”

Hart leaned to her. “Which means I’m having difficulty thinking of anything but you. That is your fault. You seduced me like the siren you are. Now stay here and let me look for my brother.”

He needed to search, Eleanor saw that. Ian would be annoyed at Hart when Hart interrupted his fishing trip, but Ian knew how to put Hart in his place. The world thought that the “slow” Ian obeyed Hart, but the family knew differently.

“Godspeed,” Eleanor said softly.

Hart cupped her cheek and brushed a sudden, hot kiss to her lips. Then he strode away from her and made for the paddocks, where the huge forms of his brother Cameron and Cameron’s equally tall son, Daniel, waited for him.

Hart knew that Beth and Eleanor were right—in all likelihood, Ian had gone off on one of his rambles to collect himself before the rest of the family arrived. Ian had difficulty responding to people, or at least understanding how they wanted him to respond to them.

Ian said what he thought, not the expected or polite thing. From brutal experience, he’d learned to keep quiet and withdraw when he was with too many people, but sometimes he had to turn his back on the world altogether until he felt better able to cope with it.