Page 8 of A Very Bellamy Christmas

Selina had done nothing but behave with kindness toward him, and Andrew had abused her trust and friendship horribly.

Why he suddenly understood that now was beyond him. Perhaps he had needed to be struck in the face repeatedly by a massive fist before coming to his senses?

In any event, Andrew was ashamed. Deeply.

But he had no intention of allowing Chatham or Fowler to see that.

“If she took our money, it is a fair bet that she left on the stage that stopped here,” he said when it was obvious the other three were not finished glaring. “Have you asked any of the ostlers if she bought passage? She is not exactly easy to forget.”

Fowler’s scowl deepened. “I’m not a fool. That is the first thing I thought about. Unfortunately, none of them recall anything about who got on or off the stage.”

“Let me guess. They were too busy watching us fight?”

Fowler’s hands flexed at his sides and Andrew readied himself for another punch.

The duke turned to his friend. “Go to the next stop, Fowler. And the one after that. Keep going until you find out where she is bound.”

Fowler wrenched his glare from Andrew nodded. “Aye.” He hesitated and gave the duke a sheepish look. “Er, but I’ll need some blunt since—”

“Yes, of course,” Chatham said. He reached into his coat, pulled out his notecase, and took what looked to be half the money and handed it to his friend.

Fowler took the notes and shoved them into his pocket. “I’ll send word—you’ll be in London?”

The duke looked at his wife.

“I want to help look for Selina,” the duchess said.

Sylvester hesitated only a few seconds before nodding at his wife and turning to Fowler. “Send any news to Chatham House. They will know how to find me.”

“Aye,” Fowler said, clearly eager to get on his way. But then he paused, a look of anguish on his face as he turned to the duchess. “It is my fault that she left. She didn’t want me to fight. If only I had listened to her and taken her back to your aunt then—”

“Just find her, Fowler,” the duchess said quietly. Her pale green eyes slid to Andrew. “We can assess blame later.”

Once Fowler had gone, the duke turned to Andrew and held out his hand. “This should get you back to London.”

Andrew looked at the money in his cousin’s palm. “I’m going to help you look for—”

“I don’t want him with us, Chatham,” the duchess said.

Andrew’s face heated at her scorn. “I thought the aim was to find your sister? Or is venting your spleen more important than her well-being, Your Grace?”

“Do not speak to my wife in that tone,” the duke said, taking a step toward him.

Andrew closed the gap between them, until they were chest to chest. “Do not think to hit me again, Chatham,” he said, every bit as coldly as his cousin. “I will not be caught unaware a second time.”

Chatham opened his mouth, but the duchess spoke first.

“You are right, Shelton. Finding Selina is the goal, and we should accept all the help we can get.” She left the words even yours unspoken. “I will be in the carriage, Chatham.” The duchess pivoted on her heel and headed for the door, moving too quickly for either the duke or Andrew to open it for her.

When she had gone, Chatham sighed, his shoulders slumping. “This needs to stop, Drew. How many more people need to get hurt? Enough is enough.”

The duke had not used Andrew’s pet name in over a decade. If he thought that would endear Andrew to him, he was sorely mistaken.

Fury crackled through him at the other man’s words. “I will decide when and how much is—”

“I am sorry, Drew,” the duke said quietly.

“For what?” Andrew demanded through clenched teeth.