The Duke Goes Down (The Duke Hunt #1) by Sophie Jordan

Her shoulders squared. “Don’t be ridiculous. Contrary to what you believe, I am not the reason for everything that is wrong in your life.” She cut a hand almost wildly through the air. “I thought you had changed, but you haven’t. You’re still that hard-hearted spoiled boy who laughed at me and said terrible things, who thought himself above everyone else in the world.”

He released a hot breath. “Perhaps I was that lad once, but you’ve seen to it that I’m not. I’m quite aware of my life’s limitations. If I marry someone, it will be someone who doesn’t live to torment me. Someone who won’t lie. Someone with integrity.”

“Ha!” She hopped from bed, whipping the coverlet around her body—her shapely body that he could still recall perfectly in his mind’s eye. “Oh, let us be honest. Whomever you find, you shall torment her, too. You will be miserable and so will she. Whatever woman you marry shall be attached to a man”—she gestured wildly at him—“who will spend his life mourning for what he lost. You will never be happy.”

A long spell of silence followed this declaration. Her chest rose and fell on heavy breaths.

“Perhaps,” he allowed, his gaze locked on her lovely face—the sight of which only made him ache, for multiple reasons he could not examine closely right now when he was already in such turmoil. “And I have you to thank for that. Do I not?”

She’d ripped his heart out and didn’t even realize it.

Without waiting for her to answer, he turned from her and took his exit the same way he had entered, through the window.

Climbing down the trellis, he thought he heard the sound of her choked sob floating above him.





Chapter Twenty-Three




Perry did not return home—or rather, to his mother’s home.

He knew it would be impossible to go there without talking to someone, either to his mother or Thurman. Any time he was in the house, they seemed to find him. He could be hiding in a mouse’s den, and they would find him.

They had interrogation down to an art form, and that was the very last thing he was in the mood for.

So he walked.

He walked the countryside as the sun lit up the morning sky. He crossed through pastures and fields, jumping fences. He walked through woods as morning faded to afternoon and the sun grew warmer on his skin.

He walked aimlessly, thinking over the letter he had discovered, thinking over the words he had said to her. The words she had said to him. He thought of her attempt to apologize and her insistence that she had accidentally outed him.

He thought about all the things.

Gradually he realized it could have been as she said. She could have made an innocent inquiry that led to the revelation of his birth.

Did it really matter?

Whatever the case, it was the truth.

How could he blame her for the truth, for the reality of his life?

He only knew that moments before he read that letter he had been blissfully happy, in love with the woman beside him and planning a future with her.

And then he had wrecked that.

He wanted to feel blissful again. He wanted love.

Sighing, he dragged a hand through his hair, realizing it could be too late for that now. He’d been an arse and had quite perhaps pushed her away forever.

A terrible hollowness spread through his chest.

Perry glanced around, taking measure of his location with sudden awareness. He’d walked far, his feet following a familiar path, for he stood on a familiar hill overlooking the familiar sight of Penning Hall.

His feet had carried him here involuntarily. He looked down at the grand mausoleum with its stone face and countless windows. The vast green grounds. The burbling fountain with its swans. And he felt nothing.

No ache. No loss or sense of longing.

“Mr. Butler,” a voice called. “Good day.”

Turning, he spotted his former housekeeper walking toward him. “Miss Lockhart,” he greeted. “Good day.”

She stopped beside him and looked from him to the panorama of the grand house she so diligently maintained. “Lovely view,” she remarked.

“Indeed, it is.”

Miss Lockhart was relatively young. Not much older than himself. She was certainly young for her position, but she had seemed a natural fit for the role. She grew up at Penning Hall, at the skirts of her aunt, the former housekeeper. When her aunt had expired ten years ago, she had temporarily stepped into the position, but she quickly proved herself in his father’s eyes. What started out as a temporary arrangement became permanent.

He felt her thoughtful stare on the side of his face. “We all miss you,” she declared.

He smiled slightly. “That is kind of you to say.”

“Do you?” she asked abruptly. “Miss it very much?”

He studied the house. It was just stones. Brick and mortar. “I find that . . . I don’t actually.” He faced her. “Not anymore.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Oh. I’m . . . that is good, Your Grace.” Her cheeks pinkened. “Forgive me. Mr. Butler.”

“Old habits.” He shrugged. “When the new duke arrives, that will cease.”

She sighed and crossed her arms, looking back down at the hall. “That should be at the week’s end. He and his retinue are coming.”

“Oh?” The man to take Perry’s place would finally be here. He let that information roll around in his head for a bit, and felt . . . nothing. No reaction. No sadness. No resentment. It did not affect him. “Good. That’s for the best. It’s time for all of us to move on.” As he had. As he would. Nodding, he stepped back. “It was a pleasure seeing you again, Miss Lockhart.”