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Down Bad with the Iron Duke

Page 102

by Lizzie C. Koz

Thundering footsteps grew louder. Theo shot to her feet the moment Sebastian came crashing into her office. Tears were streaming down his face, his cheeks splotched red, green eyes spitting fury. Fury directed at her.

Abigail rushed in after him, quickly closing the door. “Sebastian, control yourself,” she hissed.

“No,” he spat. “This is all her fault.” His voice cracked, and he collapsed to his knees, uncontrollable sobs wrenching from him.

Theo’s eyes were so wide they ached, her heart and lungs frozen in her chest. What on earth?

Abigail knelt next to her son, tucking him to her chest, her own eyes welling over with tears. She rocked him, shushing him, as she glanced at Theo, an apology in her eyes.

“What in heaven’s name is going on?” Theo asked shakily.

A gut-wrenching sob tore from Sebastian, and Abigail’s face contorted. He turned away from his mother, devastation bleeding from him. “H-he’s dying.” The words choked off, and another sob shook the office. “He’s going to d-die.”

A deafening buzzing filled Theo’s office. She couldn’t have possibly heard correctly. Her sluggish gaze slowly focused on the Duchess, and Theo did something she almost never did. “A-Abigail?” she whispered.

Abigail’s face fell. Oh my God.

Theo reached for the letter on her desk, fingers shaking violently. She sliced it open, eyes scanning the tidy scrawl—and immediately dropped it. The letter was short. Clear.

Mr. Dawson,

His Grace has suffered a serious accident and remains insensible. His physician has advised us that, should he not regain consciousness, he may have but a few days remaining. In consequence, I have thought it prudent you be made aware of the situation and prepare for the possibility that the estate’s affairs may soon need the direction of the heir presumptive.

Dowager Duchess of Ironcrest

Her fist went to her mouth, her body shaking brutally. Her legs gave out, but Perry was there to catch her. It was true. Her gaze found the letter again. Posted June 7th. Her stomach heaved. Today was June 11th.

He may have but a few days remaining.

He could already be gone. Her chest seized, a choked breath erupting from her.

Her attention clashed with Bash’s, her own heartbreak reflecting back at her. And something that only ravaged her further. A pleading question.

Why?

Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she shook her head. Why was life so rife with heartbreak, so filled with destruction? She didn’t have answers. No one did.

She slowly walked around her desk toward Bash and his mother on wobbly legs. She hesitantly lowered herself next to him. If he threw the blame at her again, she’d break. She couldn’t handle that accusation. The guilt was already breeding and festering inside her. If she hadn’t pushed Rafe away, would he still be well? Would this accident have never happened?

Bash’s broken gaze pierced into every vulnerable part of her. Bash and Abigail were her only family. She wouldn’t survive the young man’s rejection.

She tentatively reached for him, and a turbulent hitch of breath ripped from her. He stared at her hand. Then he tugged her to him and closed himself around her, his sobs wrenching from him in full force again. One of her hands found Abigail’s, the woman’s grip painfully tight. Then Theo followed Bash, falling apart right there with him.

She’d known she wouldn’t survive his rejection. But she wasn’t so certain she was going to survive this either.

* * *

Theo paced her cottage. Her limbs were so heavy it was as if she’d tied saddlebags of lead to them. After completely losing control in her office and falling apart with Bash and Her Grace, her brain kicked back into action. Dwelling on the worst-case scenario was going to do no one any good. Until they received official news—She couldn’t even think it. It wasn’t true until then. She chewed on her plait, a growl tearing from her. She hated this. Hated the not knowing. The helplessness.

The regret.

Life had just delivered her an agonizing lesson.

She’d let her pride, her affront, get the best of her.

Her eyes sank shut. Her last words to him played over and over again in her mind.

Now, Rafe! Get out of my cottage.