with her. For the first time since his return, she had remained in his bed. She had fallen asleep in his arms.
What had gone wrong?
“I am given to understand that her ladyship was intent upon returning to London,” Denning offered hesitantly.
London.
Good God. Everything within Jack went cold. Because he knew precisely what she would be seeking in London: Sidmouth.
The coldness turned to numbness.
Nell had chosen Sidmouth over him.
After everything that had passed between them. After all they had shared—the passion, the emotion, the confessions.
Bloody, fucking hell.
No. He refused to believe it. Mayhap she had returned to London to part ways with Sidmouth at last. Long overdue, that.
“Has her ladyship left me a note?” he asked at last, surprised at the false calm in his voice.
To hear himself speak, he would never know he was on the verge of losing his bloody mind.
Nellie, why would you do this to me? To us?
Denning cleared his throat. “I would be more than happy to inquire on your lordship’s behalf.”
To hell with having a shave.
To hell with everything and anything save claiming his woman and finding out why the devil she had left him.
“Please,” he agreed with a nod. “Do so, Denning.”
With a bow, his valet took his leave.
Jack was alone again. Alone with his thoughts, with his worries, all his fears. He told himself there would be a note as he stalked the length of his chamber. Then he stalked back down once more and told himself there would be none, that her leaving him was the ultimate answer, more explanatory than any words could ever be.
He paced his chamber thrice, the door connecting his chamber to the marchioness’s apartments looming like a siren.
“Curse it,” he grumbled at last, out of patience.
He threw open the door and stalked into her chamber. The room still smelled of her. Exotic florals and Nell. The bed was neatly made, the entire chamber tidy and organized, almost as if she had never been there.
But she had been there.
And she was lodged painfully, firmly within his heart just as she had always been.
He prowled her chamber, looking for signs of her, searching for a note. At last, just when he had been about to give up, he saw a folded scrap of paper on her writing desk bearing his name in her extravagant script.
Jack.
He scooped it up and unfolded it in one fluid motion, desperate for the words within. Hoping for answers.
Jack,
I am returning to London. I beg your forgiveness for foregoing the fortnight I promised you. I cannot think with you in residence. Therefore, I am returning to a place where I may have a clear head to make my decision. Pray do not follow me. I need to make this choice on my own.
Yours,
N.
The letter left him with more questions than answers. He crumpled it in his fist unthinkingly.
To hell with her request not to follow her. What did she expect, that he would sit about and calmly wait for Sidmouth to take his woman from him? The devil he would. Nell was his wife, and he meant to fight for her. To keep her.
To love her forever.
She would make the decision. The only decision. The only choice there was—their marriage, their love. Did he not see how desperately and completely his heart was hers, forever?
Still gripping the letter, he stalked back into his chamber to find Denning awaiting him with a solemn countenance.
“There was no note, my lord,” he said.
“I found the damned note myself,” he growled. “We are returning to London at once, Denning. See everything prepared if you please.”
Denning frowned. “A shave, my lord? Breakfast?”
He shook his head. “I will not be requiring anything but a carriage. I need to be in London as soon as possible.”
“Of course,” agreed his faithful valet with a bow. “I shall see to it at once, my lord.”
“Thank you,” he managed.
The note in his hand seemed to scorch his flesh. But the pain in his heart was far worse. He could not bear to believe he was losing her. That she had actually abandoned him after last night. They had been closer than they had ever been. She had spent the entire night in his arms.
And then she had risen in the morning and skulked out of his chamber like a thief filching the family silver, taking his heart with her.
Still, he had to believe they had a chance. Her every reaction to him since his return had given him hope. This latest retreat was a sign,