“Which way to the stable?” Evan demanded. Alexander sighed and pointed but he could say nothing as Evan was already moving, striding toward the stables. As he approached, he saw a stable boy hovering nearby, looking sheepish and afraid.
“Your… Your Grace….” He stammered, surprising Evan for he hadn’t expected the stable boy to know who he was. He’d hardly ever been here after all.
“Which way did she go?” Evan demanded, his tone sharp enough to send the boy stumbling over his words. “My wife?”
“T-toward the east wood, Your Grace,” the boy stammered. “She rode fast—said not to follow her.”
Evan’s gut churned as he vaulted onto his own mount, which had been brought around from the front of the house. His hands tightening on the reins as he spurred the horse into a gallop. The wind tore at his coat and whipped against his face as he rode, his mind a whirl of panic and regret. She wasn’t a good rider and the sky hung low with clouds – indicating another downpour, if not perhaps another storm.
The hours had stretched on agonizingly since Emma had ridden away, each passing minute thick with dread. The daylight was fading fast, casting long shadows across the gravel drive. Evan's heart grew heavier by the moment—something was amiss. It was unlike Emma to stay out for so long, particularly as night approached. Standing in the courtyard of Alexander’s estate, he clenched the reins of his horse so tightly his knuckles were ashen. Beside him, Alexander barked commands to the servants, his expression grim as he coordinated their search.
Evan had already dispatched Jonathan, Harry, and Edwin, summoning them to assist, but no word had come back. They had not found her. The air, heavy with anxiety, seemed to stretch on endlessly.
Emma's sisters, Arabella and Hanna, stood near the doorway, their faces as pale as ghosts. Arabella was quiet, her lips drawn tight with worry, but it was Hanna who stepped forward, her fiery spirit impossible to contain.
“This is your doing,” she spat, her voice seething with accusation as she pointed at Evan. “Emma ran because of you.”
Evan’s heart skipped a beat, the words catching him off guard. He drew in a sharp breath, his pulse quickening. “What do you mean?” he asked, the question escaping more urgently than he intended. Had Alexander told his sisters about the letter?
Hanna did not flinch. “I saw you, Evan. At Vauxhall Gardens, several days ago. You were with another woman.” Her voice trembled, thick with both fury and the raw pain of betrayal. “Itold Emma about it. She deserved to know and now she’s run away because of you.”
The words struck Evan like a sudden blow, the horror sinking into him as though he had been struck senseless. His thoughts reeled, and an understanding slowly dawned.
But amid the flood of guilt, his mind flashed back to that night. Rose. For of course, it had been Rose. There was no other woman he kept company with but Emma and Rose.
Evan’s voice was low but firm. “You’re right. I was with another woman.” Gasps sounded from the gathered crowd, and Hanna’s expression turned triumphant, though tinged with pain. “But it’s not what you think,” Evan continued, his gaze steady on hers. “I will explain everything—every detail—once Emma is safe. Right now, that is all that matters.”
Hanna’s glare softened, and after a long pause, she gave a curt nod. “Fine. Find her.”
Evan turned back to his horse, his resolve hardening. He swung into the saddle as the men mounted their own steeds. “We’ll spread out,” he ordered. “Search every likely place she might go. Check the woods, the streams, anywhere she could be seeking solitude. Even if you know a place was already searched, so again. The first party might have missed her. I might have. Make haste.”
As the party divided, Evan took a path that led toward the old monastery on the edge of the estate. The place was steeped inhistory and quiet serenity, a refuge he and Emma had visited before.
She wouldn’t go there, would she?
It seemed improbable—it had been a place of tentative joy for them, not a sanctuary for heartbreak. But something tugged at him, a whisper of intuition that he couldn’t ignore.
The trail to the monastery was overgrown, the path winding through dense thickets and underbrush. The setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and crimson, the light slipping away faster than he liked. The trees cast shifting shadows across his path, heightening his unease.
Suddenly, a horse emerged from the trees ahead, galloping toward him riderless. Evan’s heart seized. It was the gray gelding, its reins trailing and its eyes wild with panic.
“No,” he breathed, his pulse spiking.
Without hesitation, he spurred his horse forward, his mind racing with dread. The thought of Emma lying injured—or worse—sent a wave of anguish crashing over him.
The monastery came into view, its crumbling stone walls framed by ivy and overgrowth. He spotted her then—a figure crumpled on the ground near the entrance. His heart stopped as he dismounted, stumbling toward her.
“Emma!” he cried, falling to his knees beside her.
Her form was limp, her hair spilling across her face, a deep gash on her forehead staining her pale skin with blood. She was unconscious, her breaths faint but steady. Relief warred with terror as he gently touched her cheek, his fingers trembling. “Emma, please,” he whispered. “Please, open your eyes.”
She didn’t stir. Evan’s chest tightened as he assessed her injuries—a bruise blooming on her temple, scrapes on her hands. It was clear she had fallen from the horse, likely thrown in its panic.
He gathered her into his arms, cradling her against his chest as he rose to his feet. Her head lolled against him, her body heavier than usual in his arms. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice breaking. “This is my fault. All of it.”
The ride back to Alexander’s estate was a blur of desperation. Evan rode with one arm wrapped securely around Emma, his other hand guiding the horse with single-minded determination. He didn’t stop, didn’t think—his only goal was to get her to safety.
When he arrived, the household erupted into chaos. Arabella and Hanna ran forward, their faces etched with horror as they saw Emma’s still form. Servants rushed to prepare a room, and a doctor was summoned with all possible haste.
