The butler cleared his throat. “Is there a reply, my lord?”
“No. I’ll go myself.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “Will I never be free of responsibility?”
“Andrew, what is happening?” Concern wove through Sarah’s voice.
“Reality.” Without bothering to explain his intentions to his wife, he strode from the room, and inevitably, anxiety roared to life in his chest, bringing with it the crushing weight of duty.
Why could he not rise above the damned emotion?
Because anger was familiar and easy; peace was not.
Once more he’d failed. Cold disappointment circled through his gut. It had been folly to expect anything more of himself.