“I’ve had a very hard night, Mr. Greaves.” And a harder morning. Harry passed a hand over his aching forehead. “Was a letter brought to my lady? Or a rider? Did a rider come bearing some kind of news?”

“No. Not that it is any concern of yours, Mr. Pye.” Greaves stared down his thin nose. “Now, if I may show you the door?”

Harry took two quick steps and grabbed the butler by the shirtfront. One step more and he slammed the man against the wall, cracking the plaster. “As it happens, what my lady does is my concern.” Harry leaned close enough to smell the powder on Greaves’s wig. “She’s carrying my child and will soon be my wife. Is that understood?”

The butler nodded, sending a fine dusting of powder onto his shoulders.

“Good.” Harry released the other man.

What would make her leave so suddenly? Frowning, he took the curving main stairs two at a time and headed down the long hall to his lady’s room. Had he missed something? Said the wrong thing? The problem with women was that it could be damn near anything.

Harry threw open the bedroom door, scaring a maid cleaning out the hearth. He strode to Lady Georgina’s vanity table. The top had been cleared. He opened drawers and flung them shut just as fast. They were empty save for a few hairpins and a forgotten handkerchief. The maid scurried from the room. Harry straightened from the vanity and surveyed the room. The wardrobe doors stood ajar and empty. A lone candlestick sat on the table by her bed. The bed itself had already been stripped. There wasn’t anything to indicate where she’d gone.

He quit the room and ran back down the stairs, knowing the servants were aware of his movements. He knew he must seem a madman, racing about the manor and claiming the daughter of an earl as his bride. Well, damn them all to hell. He wasn’t backing down. She was the one who had brought it this far. She’d laid down the gauntlet and then run for it. This time around he wasn’t going to wait for her to come to her senses. Who knew how long it would take her to get over whatever snit she’d gotten herself into? He might be a commoner, he might be poor, but by God, he was going to be Lady Georgina’s husband, and his wife needed to learn that she couldn’t just light out every time she got a bee in her bonnet.

Harry mounted the poor mare, already half asleep, and turned her in the direction of his own little cottage. He’d pack the barest essentials. If he was fast, he might catch her before Lincoln.