Wolfsgate (45 page)

“Lord Graven?” Georgina stood in the parlor of her family home, her face flushed, her eyes blinking up at him. “Welcome. Please sit….”

“Where is she?” he breathed.

“Pardon?”

“Justine, where has she gone?”

“Gone?”

“Is she here?”

“No, she’s not here.”

“You must know something. You must have helped her.”

“Helped her?”

“Tell me.”

Her dark eyebrows drew together. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand. Justine is gone?”

“There’s no sign of her, she’s taken clothes, left her jewelry behind, even her wedding ring.”

“Are you certain?”

“Are you certain you know nothing?” His ragged voice boomed.

Georgina’s hands curled into fists at her side. “It cannot be!”

“I wouldn’t be here now if it were not true!” he shot back through gritted teeth.

“She said nothing to me. She seemed happy at the party, even though somewhat distracted. I assumed it was nerves, excitement, fatigue.”

“She’s sent no message to you, no—”

“No, nothing. I will come with you.”

“Stay here. Perhaps she will contact you or come herself.”

Georgina’s large brown eyes tightened. “Have you done or said something to upset her?”

He gave the girl a hard stare. “I would never do anything to harm or frighten my wife, Miss Georgina. I only want her home safe with me.”

Georgina clasped her hands together. “She has said nothing to me to indicate that she was even considering such a thing. If she had I would have dissuaded her, you can be sure of it.”

Charles Montclair entered the room. “Graven? What are you doing here?”

“Lady Justine is missing,” said Georgina quietly.

“Missing?” Charles turned to Brandon who only dragged his teeth across his lips in an effort to contain himself.

“Have you seen her or spoken to her since the tea, Mr. Montclare?” asked Georgina.

“No. We only spoke that once with you, then later when we took our leave.”

“Yes.” Georgina glanced up at Brandon’s hard features. “Lord Graven, in such a dramatic instance, if she has chosen to leave, would she not turn to her stepbrother?”

“No.”

“Your estate manager? She has told me that—”

“I have seen him, he is searching for her himself.”

Georgina wiped a hand across her brow. “I must confess, I know of no other acquaintance of Lady Justine’s whom she would trust in such an instance. She is friendly with several of your tenants, though, is she not?”

Brandon exhaled. “Yes. Yes. There is a tenant. There is one in particular.”

She knew that howl.

It was not the wind, it was him.

He was here.

Here for me.

“Yes. Yes, do come.”

There was a slight glow of light before her in the twilight. She tried to raised her hand, but her arm would not comply with her wishes. The light only dimmed, paled. His gold eyes shone but for an instant, making her heart throb. His cry filled the air again, breaking over her, taking her breath away.

I am with you.

The gold flickered and vanished.

“Stay.”

Only white filled her vision.

“Don’t leave me.”

White…

Only white.

Brandon galloped over the hard frozen ground towards the tenants’ cottages. There was only one other person. Only one. She had trusted him years ago. She trusted him still. He saw it in both of them every time they were in each other’s presence. It was quiet, easy between them, but it was palpable, unmistakable.

Martin.

She could trust Martin to help her leave. Maybe they had left together. Maybe he’d been right all along and the world truly was a mad, mad place, and he was cursed to live in it, resurrected or no.

The drifts of endless white snow in the dark sparkled at him from the light of the moon. Knight cut through the eerie quiet of the frozen woods bringing him closer to the tenants’ cottages. She could still be there, before heading off somewhere early the following morning. Beads of sweat prickled along his spine. He barely notice the drifts of white his horse plowed through. An icy net stretched over his chest pulling tight.

“Let me not be too late. Let me find her.”

Knight pulled on his reins giving a subtle tug of his head to the side. Brandon’s eyes focused before him instinctively, his back stiffened as he listened, his legs firm against his horse. Another animal was about. A heavy whisper, a shuffling movement, crunching in the snow. All his senses tuned to every flick of—

Knight whinnied and pulled again. Brandon’s fingers tightened against the reins. Two eyes glowed in the distance, a luminous yellow gold. His heart pumped wildly in his chest.

The eyes disappeared, and he heard the creature shifting warily in the snow, appraising him. Was it…

Brandon took in a deep breath, and the vision manifested before him, but it was no apparition, it was real. Persephone. Alone, bare in the snow, watching him and Knight, bobbing her head, her thick black mane whipping in the wind. Her neigh shuddered through the air.

He slid off his horse and approached her slowly. “Here, girl. That’s it.” The horse snorted at him, shook its head from side to side, its eyes wide. She didn’t seem relieved to have been found, only agitated. What was she doing out here alone and with no saddle? Persephone snorted, her hooves crunching in the icy snow. She stamped back a few steps then trotted to a grove of ice-laden trees in the distance. “What is it, girl?” He plodded after her.

That’s when he saw it.

A mound of black lay like a large immoveable stone under the frozen branches. Persephone snorted and neighed, bobbing her head over the black stone.

Brandon’s heart tore through his chest. He ran, fell on his knees, his hands clawing over the motionless figure, digging into the icy woolen fabric, pulling at the cold softness underneath. The full mass of hair fell over his arm, and the breath caught in his lungs. His hand went to her cold face, his shaky fingers brushing over her icy lips.

The wind rushed through the trees leaving a howl behind. Chunks of snow fell on her lifeless body, and he brushed them away savagely like a creature possessed, preserving its most cherished…

He exploded.

“Justine!”

“Lady Graven’s condition is serious. She has a broken arm, several broken ribs, and there are bruises all over her back and legs. I cannot rule out the possibility of serious injury to her back. Fortunately, you were careful in moving her to the Shaw’s cottage in their cart and not on your horse, but I cannot yet be exact as to the severity of her injuries.”

“Why has she not woken up yet?” Brandon’s voice was lifeless, his eyes locked on Justine’s still form tucked in Mrs. Shaw’s bed.

“That is another point of concern. If her head knocked against that tree or a frozen rock on the ground hidden by the snow, she may have an internal injury in the head. There is some swelling, but it is not over a large area, thankfully. Neither her neck nor her spine broke, and that in itself is a miracle. There is something else, my lord.” Dr. Langham tilted his head at Brandon and moved deeper into the room, further away from the tenants hovering in the Shaw’s small doorway.

Brandon’s weary eyes stung with a thousand needle-pricking pains. His legs filled with molten lead as he followed the doctor. He held his breath and leaned his hands on the back of a chair bracing himself. “Tell me. Be done with it.”

“Lady Graven is with child.”

That molten lead now poured through him incinerating every nerve ending in his body. Words were impossible.

“There was some bleeding,” Dr. Langham continued.

“Bleeding?”

“Yes, but I cannot be sure if it is enough to constitute alarm. We can only wait and see. I am sorry. Pray she awakens. Pray for that,” the doctor said. “I will give Mrs. Shaw instruction as to her care. This is most important, sir—Lady Graven must not be moved. Do not under any circumstances, attempt to take her back to Wolfsgate. She must remain here in this bed until she awakens and we know better what her injuries are. Do you understand?”

Brandon nodded. His hand shot out and gripped the doctor’s arm. Dr. Langham’s gaze met his. “A child?” Brandon rasped.

Langham put his hand over Brandon’s, a slight smile curved the edges of his thin lips. “Yes, my boy. A child.”

Brandon sank into the rickety chair by his wife’s bedside. Her face was pale, her body unbelievably still except for a gentle inhalation and exhalation of breath. Her broken left arm was bound, her slender fingers peeking through the binding. Brandon touched the quilted blanket at her chest, his shaky hand traveling down to her belly and resting there.

“A child,” he whispered. The word sounded foreign to his ears as he released it from his lips. Had she known? Deep inside he was thrilled, wild with joy, but he bound that joy tightly with thick iron chains and shoved the weighty mass down into the dark pit of his being. He let the numbness overtake him once more. Yes, only that for now. Otherwise, he would fly into an explosive rage or shatter into a million pieces, he wasn’t sure which.

His beautiful Justine hovered between life and death in a musty dark room in a tenant’s cottage. He covered his eyes with his cold hands as the raw truth seeped through him. The door creaked open, and his body flinched.

“Pardon, your Lordship, I’ve brought you some fresh tea,” came Mrs. Shaw’s careful voice. “Martin’s here, sir. He has something to tell ye. Says it’s urgent.”

Heat charged through his body.
Martin?

The woman came to his side. “Sir?”

Gripping his cane, Brandon jerked up from the chair. “Have the boys brought the extra wood from Wolfsgate for your fires?”

“They have, sir.” The older woman clasped her hands together. “I’ll keep her warm, don’t you fret now. I won’t leave my lady alone. Doctor’s told me all I need to do. If there’s any change in her, I’ll send for ye. Lizzie is on her way, as well.”

With a final glance at his sleeping wife, Brandon quit the room. The ache in his knee shot through his thigh and grimacing he leaned on the damned cane. He closed the door behind him, and his tight gaze leveled on Martin.

He hated that Martin was doing anything for Justine.

He hated him.

Martin’s posture was stiff, his lips pressed together.

“How dare you even show your face here. How dare you!” Brandon’s voice thundered. “Was she coming to you?”

Martin’s eyes flared. “What are on about?” He glared at him, raising his chin. “I’m here, sir, ‘cause I found her saddle. It’s been cut.”

Brandon froze. “Cut?”

“And a pin were inserted to weigh down on the horse, more like so’ her ladyship wouldn’t be able to control the animal. Found the wound on the horse to match.” Martin’s hands tensed at his sides as he took a step closer toward Brandon. “Simms is gone. He must’ve been ready and waiting in the stables and saddled the horse for her ladyship. I wasn’t there, was I?”

A muscle in Brandon’s jaw pulsed.

Martin held out a crumpled paper. “I found this in the stable.” Brandon snatched it. His eyes poured over a badly scribbled note insisting Lady Graven come to a tenant’s cottage to see to an ill baby.