Page 62 of After the Abduction

And she couldn’t find him. She’d tried sending notes, saying that they needed to speak. He ignored them. When she sneaked out at night, he was nowhere to be found. Once she’d even approached his bedchamber, but he hadn’t been there.

That perturbed her more than she’d like. Although he sometimes showed up at meals, according to Rosalind, he must be spending the rest of his time elsewhere. At Foxglen, perhaps? Or with a friend?

She hadn’t thought of it until now, but he might have a mistress in town. He might be in another woman’s bedchamber at this very moment, fondling and kissing her and…

Tears welled in her eyes, and she wiped them away viciously. She didn’t care if he was! She didn’t! Never mind that after being in his pockets for two days, it felt odd to go a week without him. Never mind that lately she ate little and slept less. And when she did sleep, she had shocking, fantastical dreams: of rolling about naked in rose petals on the floor of the conservatory. Or ivy vines twining up her thighs, past her belly and over her breasts until suddenly they weren’t ivy at all, but plundering fingers and hot, caressing lips that woke her from her fevered state to find herself mashing her pillow in her arms.

Drat the wretch! It had taken her two years to banish him from her dreams, and now he thought he could creep in again when her back was turned. He had no right!

The door to her bedchamber banged open, startling her. She made a belated leap for her bed, but only landed sprawling across it as her sister entered.

“Not a very convincing sickbed performance,” Rosalind snapped. “It’s a good thing Griff is a gentleman and would never barge in here without knocking.”

Juliet sat up and scowled. “A pity that his wife doesn’t share his good breeding.”

“Indeed it is.” Not the least affronted, Rosalind plopped down on the end of the bed. “Lord, he’s driving me insane.”

“Is he?” Then at least she had company in her misery.

“Him and his bloody hot water. He grumbles about his bath. He grumbles about your being ‘sick.’ He grumbles about Lord Templemore’s absences from most of our meals, because he’s certain that any man who doesn’t dine with his guests is off somewhere plotting trouble.”

Griff was only half wrong. Sebastian was actually off somewhere avoiding trouble.

“He even grumbles about Mr. Pryce, who’s perfectly amiable, but who gained Griff’s enmity solely by being related to the ‘untrustworthy’ Lord Templemore. I’m beginning to think this was an awful idea.”

“Good. If I have to spend one more day in this bedchamber, lovely as it is, I shall go mad. It’s time for my miraculous recovery.”

“It is not! My courses would normally come next week, and I refuse to leave Shropshire until I see if any of this works. I may have to consult Winnie again.”

With a groan, Juliet dropped back against the pillows. “Then for goodness sake, find some way to get me out of this room for a while.” Find me a way to see Sebastian.

Rosalind smiled. “Actually, that’s why I’m here. I’ve persuaded Griff to go to town for the day. I said I wanted to shop. Lord knows there’s probably nothing much in Llanbrooke, but I told him I needed an outing, and he agreed. So we’re heading off as soon as I finish looking in on my poor ill sister.”

“What good does it do me if you go to town? The servants are everywhere, so I’m virtually a prisoner.”

Mischief glinted in Rosalind’s eyes. “I had the groom saddle a horse for Polly. I told him I needed my maid to ride over to Winnie’s cottage. But you can do it instead. Only you don’t have to go to Winnie’s—you can go where you please. Polly’s waiting for you with the horse at that side door to the orangery. You know the one?”

“I think so.” Her blood began to pound. Freedom!

“This time of day there’s no one on the backstairs on this wing. I’ve taken careful note of their movements. So you can slip out without being noticed.”

Leave it to Rosalind to spring her from prison. “Thank you,” Juliet said. “Another day of brushing dust out of the canopy fringe, and you’d have to cart me off to Bedlam.”

“Do be careful. The snow’s gone, but you don’t know the area, and—”

“For goodness sake, just go. Go! Enjoy your time with Griff. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure you will.” Rosalind stood and headed for the door. “One more thing. If you want company, you might ride to that quaint cottage we saw the other day. I believe that’s where Lord Templemore has gone to hide from Griff’s foul temper.”

Juliet sucked in a breath. Of course! She should have thought of it sooner. Where else but to his forge did Hephaestus retreat when besieged by enemies?

Then she caught Rosalind’s questioning glance, and the blood rose in her cheeks. “Why would I want Lord Templemore’s company? Or be so brazen as to seek him out?”

“I’m not saying to go alone, silly. Take Polly with you. But the man did promise to keep you busy while you were in seclusion, and from what I can see he’s reneged on his promise most abominably. Did the two of you argue?”

How much should she reveal? If Rosalind were to realize what she and Sebastian had been doing, she’d be locking the bedroom doors, not setting her free.

“Yes, we did argue. At Foxglen. And…er…he’s been avoiding me ever since.”