“This was all I had that was yours.” She sobbed like her heart had been broken in two.
“I’ll give you another painting.” Hell, he’d make a houseful of them just for her, if she would only stop breaking his heart. The heart she had revived and that now belonged to her and her alone. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay.” She dissolved into sobs, still rocking as she held the trashed painting.
He might not have been the most sensitive man on the planet, but even he could see she’d reached the end of her tether. On top of weeks of scheming behind his back, the chaos of the evening had taken its toll. Donna wasn’t cut out for subterfuge—her heart was far too soft to cope with the guilt that went with it—and the strain had worn her out.
“Come on.” He scooped her, and the painting she wouldn’t release, into his arms. “It’ll be fine.”
“It won’t be fine. I’ve messed everything up.” The resignation in her tearful voice made him want to hit more people, in the hopes it would make everything better for her.
She turned her face into him as she sobbed, curling her hand into his shirt. As he strode through the kitchen to the stairs at the back of the house, he found Grace helping the caterer pack everything up. She rushed to his side.
“What happened?” The cook reached for Donna, stroking her hair as she continued sobbing.
It raised his opinion of the woman that she didn’t even entertain the thought that Donna might be crying because of him. “The gardener I fired broke into her office and tried to steal her painting. He was bullying her when I walked in on them.” He looked down at Donna, tightening his grip on her as he watched her fall apart. “Can you call the police and send a couple of the men to stand guard until they get here? I don’t wan
t that arse to run off.”
“I’ll see to it.”
Duncan nodded as he listened to Donna cry. She seemed to be lost in her own misery, oblivious to what was going on around her. “I think she’s reached the end.”
“It’s been a tough couple of weeks,” Grace said softly. “Unlike her sisters, she’s not cut out for these shenanigans.”
“I figured that out for myself. I wish she’d resisted the Women’s Institute.”
Grace gave him a pitying look. “Do you see her saying no to a ball for cancer patients? One given in your wife’s name?”
“If she’d told me, I would have stood up to them for her.”
“Next time, Duncan. Do that for her the next time they come at her.”
He nodded. Making that promise to himself. “Make sure you get everyone out. Get the cops on to that as well. Tell them I didn’t sign the bloody contract, and as far as I’m concerned, everybody is trespassing. I’m taking her up to her room and putting her to bed. We’ll deal with this in the morning.”
“I’ll bring up some hot chocolate, just in case.”
Duncan nodded his thanks as he held his woman tight. Her tears seemed never-ending, and she’d folded in on herself. “You take care of the mansion,” he said. “I’ll take care of Donna.”
“I know you will.” Grace gave his shoulder a squeeze before turning back into the room.
He ignored everyone else as he took the stairs two at a time to the housekeeper’s apartment. Her door was as she usually left it, unlocked, which wasn’t sensible in a house full of strangers. Something else to add to the list of things to talk about in the morning.
He swung her apartment door open, took two steps inside, and stopped dead.
“What the hell?” She’d been robbed. The whole place had been cleaned out. There was nothing of hers left. “Donna, Angel.” He kept his voice soft so as not to upset her further. “I’m sorry, but you’ve been robbed. I’ll get you settled on the couch, and then I’ll let the police know. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”
She lifted her head, tears still rolling down her cheeks as she looked around the room. “I haven’t been robbed. I’ve moved out, and I’m quitting my job.” And then she started sobbing all over again.
Duncan stood in the middle of the empty room, unsure of what to say or do. She’d moved out? She was leaving him? Was it because she’d been frightened of how he might react when he found out about the ball? Surely not. He’d never hurt Donna. But one thing was for sure—she was in no fit state to answer his questions right now.
Taking care not to hit her head off the doorjamb, he took her through to the bedroom and settled her on the bed. There was nothing of hers in the room, except one lone book on the bedside table.
He took off her black shoes and considered stripping her of the plain black dress she’d worn to the party, but then thought better of it. He didn’t want her to feel any more vulnerable.
“I need to take this,” he said as he gently prised the painting from her hands. “You have to get some sleep. I’ll leave it on the floor beside the bed and you can decide what to do about it tomorrow.” She reluctantly let go of the canvas. Duncan tucked the duvet around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Everything’s going to be okay,” he told her.
“No, it’s not.” She curled into a ball on her side, facing away from him.