Haunted Hearts

24

The clock in Rufus's study was chiming the first stroke of midnight when he arrived home. The house was dark and eerily silent as he trudged up the stairs, bone-weary and aching from his long day in the carriage—just as he'd hoped.

After their passionate night proved his self-control was in tatters, Rufus knew locking himself in his study like he'd done the day before wouldn't be enough to keep him away from Elphi.

So, he'd slipped out of bed and dressed before dawn, telling himself there were several cases he needed to follow up on, and now was the perfect time to get an early start on a long day of traveling.

However, deep down, he knew he was escaping.

And most of the day, Rufus enjoyed the solitude, lost himself in his work, and focused on problems other than his own. But every once in a while, thoughts of Elphi shattered his carefully constructed concentration, and he'd have to fight the temptation to return home with all possible haste.

It was a mentally exhausting cycle that tested him to his limits, and now that he stood outside his bedroom door, moments away from seeing Elphi, Rufus was relieved he hadn't given in earlier.

Because while he'd missed her, despite trying his damndest not to, his plan of being hours away all day long served its purpose in making him too tired to want to do anything other than sleep once getting home.

Rufus closed his eyes and grunted in relief, then cringed as he turned the squeaky knob. He froze, straining his ears for any sign the noise had awakened Elphi. When none came, he tiptoed into the darkened room and undressed.

He took extra care setting his boots on the floor, trying to be as quiet as possible, and held his breath as he slowly pulled his side of the covers back and crawled into bed, cringing with every creak it made. But still, Elphi didn't stir.

A frown creased his brow as a sense of unease prickled down his spine. Rufus's heart thumped madly against his ribs, his stomach clenched with dread, and his hands trembled as he rolled onto his side and reached across the mattress for her.

Only to encounter nothing but cold sheets.

Bursting from the bed, he scrambled to light the bedside lamp and tore the curtains back to reveal it was empty.

Rufus muttered an expletive and threw on his dressing-gown, hurried and lit a candlestick, then dashed out of his room and up the flight of stairs to Rouse's quarters. He took a deep breath, striving to keep his panic under control as he lifted his fist and knocked on the door. "Rouse?"

Nothing.

Rufus knocked harder and raised his voice, "Rouse?"

Silence, and then the floorboards creaked, followed shortly after by a bleary-eyed Rouse opening the door in his nightshirt. "Good evening, My Lord—"

"Where is my wife?" Rufus asked, unable to keep the alarm from his voice.

"Harwood Hall... Her Ladyship joined Lord Matson there for breakfast."

Rufus frowned. "Breakfast was seventeen hours ago. She should be home and sound asleep by now."

"Yes, My Lord," Rouse quickly agreed, nodding his head, "except, Her Ladyship took a valise with her as well."

Blood rushed in Rufus's ears, his stomach fell to his toes, and it suddenly became difficult to breathe. "Did you inform her that I would be back later tonight?"

"I did, My Lord."

And yet she still left. The poignancy of the thought hit Rufus like a brutal kick to the chest and nearly felled him to his knees on the spot.