Allan stepped back, uncertain what to do next.
He turned on the spot, madly, then stuffed his hand back into his pocket and pulled out Frederica’s letter again.
The way she had signed her name,Freddie,made his heart ache.
I was so sure she cared for me, too. That I was not the only one falling in love here. How could I be so completely wrong?
It seemed he hadn’t really known her at all. All this time, he thought he understood her and thought he was reading her expressions and the way she felt, but he was wrong.
“I need…” he muttered aloud.
“Yes, My Lord?” the butler said, stepping forward, clearly eager to be of assistance.
“I need… my horse.” He had to see Frederica again. He had to plead with her not to do this; he was a fool last night to even agree to the annulment in the first place. “If you would have it prepared, please, I must leave at once.”
* * *
Half an hour later, Allan was bolting through the streets of London. It was still so early in the morning that the sky was grey, and there were barely any people treading the roads. It was a good thing, for Allan rode like a madman, and had it been busier, he might have struggled not to have caused an accident in his haste.
He cut a corner by darting through Hyde Park then pushed on, shedding his tailcoat over his shoulder with the rain making his shirt and face damp, streaking them with droplets. When he reached Dorothy’s house, he was in a state though he didn’t care.
He leapt down from the horse, throwing the reins over the nearest fence he could find by their driveway and marching up to the door.
He knocked hard then stood back, his eyes darting between the windows in a mad search to see if Frederica was peering out at him from any of those windows.
The door was opened, not by a butler but by Stephen.
“Ah, good morning, Allan, what brings you…” Stephen halted, evidently having seen the state Allan was in. “What’s wrong?”
“Is she here?”
“Who?”
“Who do you think?” Allan burst past Stephen and into the house.
“What’s going on? Allan?” Stephen ran after him, the two of them shooting through the entrance hall and through the two nearest rooms. “Allan!”
Allan pushed open doors, searching each room, but he found each one as empty as the last.
“Care to tell me what is going on? Or do you intend to keep acting like a madman, so I have no choice but to believe you belong in Bedlam?”
Allan didn’t listen to the jest and just pushed on with Stephen constantly pursuing him. By the time he made it back to the entrance hall, Dorothy had appeared on the staircase. Their children must have still been asleep, for she stood there alone, yawning, until she saw him.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“My question exactly.” Stephen nodded, coming to a halt at the bottom of the steps. “Your brother seems intent on ignoring me.”
“Where is she?” Allan asked again.
“Who?” Stephen repeated his earlier question, but Dorothy didn’t ask anything so foolish. She looked straight at Allan.
“Where, Dorothy? Are you hiding her here?”
“Frederica is not here,” Dorothy said quietly, moving down the stairs to meet him.
“She hast to be!” Allan hissed. “If she’s not, then I must go to Gerard’s. She may have gone to Charlotte’s house.”
Before Allan could leave though, he found his arms were taken up by Stephen and Dorothy.
