Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

“ W hoa! Easy there,” the driver’s voice echoed as the cart rattled along.

Gemma’s muscles ached from the cramped position she had held for what had seemed like hours, nestled between sacks of grain and barrels of who-knows-what at the rear of the cart.

The air was musty and heavy, and the jostling of the wooden wheels over the bumpy road had shaken her body until she felt sore in places she didn’t know existed. However, despite the discomfort, the thrill of freedom hummed in her veins as the weight of the convent finally started to lift from her shoulders.

Gemma froze and her heart leaped into her throat as the cart slowed down. With careful, cautious movements, Gemma shifted just enough to peek through a tiny gap between two sacks. Her breath hitched as she caught sight of the sprawling estate that lay before her.

This was not the humble village that she had imagined. No, this was grand; a vast mansion of grey stone with towering windows that gleamed in the dying light of the afternoon sun. Rolling hills and manicured gardens stretched out around it like a scene from a fairy tale.

Where have I ended up?

But there was no time to dwell on that.

This will have to do .

As the cart came to a stop she watched as the driver climbed down from his seat. She knew she only had a few moments to get out of the cart without being spotted.

Gemma’s heart pounded in her ears as she gathered up her skirts and readied herself to move stealthily. With one quick breath she slipped from her hiding place, dropped down from the cart’s edge and landed lightly on the gravel pathway. She winced as her bruised knees protested, but there was no time to falter.

Darting toward a tree, she moved as silently as she could manage, and hid behind the thick trunk.

Her gaze scanned the grand building for a point of entry.

“There!” she whispered as she spotted a narrow door at the side of the house that was partly concealed by a large hedge.

That is no doubt the servant’s entrance.

She peeked from the side of the trunk, seeing that the supplier had his back to her, still unloading the goods he’d delivered to the estate.

This is my chance , she thought.

Wasting no more time, she ducked and scurried on quivering legs towards the servant’s entrance, constantly checking behind her for the supplier. Thankfully, he was still unloading.

As she neared the door, it appeared that her luck would hold. A footman dressed in simple livery was slouched against the wall, fast asleep. He remained completely oblivious to her presence as his soft snores rose and fell in the quiet of the evening.

Perfect .

She glanced behind her one last time. The driver was returning to the front of the cart for some reason. She breathed a sigh of relief.

At last, she moved past the sleeping footman carefully, holding her breath as she grasped the handle and slipped inside.

The estate’s interior was just as grand as its exterior. Gemma found herself in a narrow corridor, the scent of roasting meats and bread wafting towards her from somewhere nearby.

Her stomach rumbled in response. How long had it been since she had eaten properly? She could not remember, but knew she had no time at the moment to satisfy her hunger.

Stay focused, Gemma.

Voices echoed from further down the corridor. A quick glance revealed that several servants were busy scuttling about, carrying trays of food and drink, their movements hurried and purposeful.

Judging from their hushed conversations, there was some kind of event taking place; a dinner party, perhaps. Gemma’s eyes widened. If the entire household was currently so preoccupied, it might give her the chance she needed to hide.

She crept along the shadowy edge of the corridor, keeping her footsteps as quiet as possible. Her breath came in shallow bursts as she prayed no one would notice her. She glanced around frantically for somewhere to hide and spotted a set of double doors that were standing slightly ajar at the end of the hall.

Without thinking, she slipped through them and gently pushed the doors closed behind her.

It’s a library.

Gemma exhaled a soft sigh of relief, her eyes darting around the large room. Book-lined shelves covered nearly every inch of the library’s walls and heavy velvet drapes blocked out most of the remaining light from the setting sun. A large fireplace sat cold and unlit at the far end of the room, and plush armchairs were scattered about, which added a sense of comfort to the otherwise formal space.

It was quiet, serene, and—most importantly—empty.

She crossed the room cautiously, her shoes sinking into the thick rug beneath her feet. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of everything.

What have I done? What must I do next?

She did not know where she was or to whom the estate belonged, but none of that mattered for the moment. She had escaped St. Catherine’s. She was finally free .

Free… and utterly terrified.

Gemma’s heart sank as reality set in. She had no plan. No destination. No idea what she would do next. What if the people in this grand estate discovered her? What would they do with her? What if they sent her back to the convent? She could not go back. She would not go back.

She walked over to one of the armchairs and sat down gingerly, trying to think through her situation. She had not planned this far ahead; she hadn’t imagined what she would happen after she had escaped.

I will just hide for a little while . I know that I will come up with a plan.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of approaching voices. Gemma’s body became rigid as the conversation outside the library doors grew louder. Her eyes darted around the room as panic flooded her.

Before she could react, the door creaked open. Gemma’s breath caught and she pressed herself into the armchair’s backrest, hoping against hope that whoever entered would not notice her.

Two men walked into the room, deep in conversation. Their voices were low, but there was an unmistakable air of authority in them.

One, a tall man with dark hair and a severe expression, appeared to be leading the discussion, while the other—a shorter, somewhat pudgy man—nodded along enthusiastically.

“…and the Duke insists on keeping the matter quiet,” the dark-haired man said as he strode over to the fireplace and lit a small fire in the grate. His voice was crisp and commanding. “He does not want the ton gossiping about it. You know how they can be.”

The other man laughed, a short, nervous chuckle. “Indeed, indeed. Best to keep such things within the estate.”

Gemma’s heart leapt.

The Duke?

She was in a duke’s estate? She swallowed hard, her mind racing.

What if this duke is cruel and callous, with no compassion for a stray woman hiding in his library?

The men continued their conversation, oblivious to her presence. Gemma slowly inched behind the armchair and tried to make herself as small as possible. The last thing she needed was to be discovered by these men, especially now, when her escape was so fresh.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the two men left the library, their voices fading down the hallway.

Gemma let out a shaky breath and leaned against the chair, her body trembling. She was safe for now, but how long could she hide in this majestic estate before someone found her?

Gemma crouched low in the shadows of the library, her breath shallow as she listened intently to another muffled conversation just outside the door. Her pulse raced and her muscles tensed in anticipation of being discovered. The heavy wood of the door functioned as a buffer, distorting the voices, but she could still make out snippets of their discussion.

“…the Duke will not tolerate any more delays,” one of the voices remarked in a deep and commanding tone. “If these families desire his favor, they will have no choice but to send over their daughters. He has already turned away three prospective ladies this season alone.”

A nervous laugh followed. “Can you blame them? Who would willingly offer their daughter up to marry him ? The rumors alone would frighten any sensible girl into finding another match.”

Gemma’s heart thudded in her chest.

Who is this duke of whom they speak?

Gemma pressed herself against a desk behind her, its wooden edge biting into her shoulder blades as she strained to listen.

The voices continued, growing quieter as they moved further away from the corridor behind the door. She could only make out fragments of their conversation as they talked about the Duke’s wealth, his dealings with powerful families, and the endless string of potential brides he had rejected.

“…the last one ran back to her father in tears after meeting him,” the second man said, his tone filled with disdain. “Cannot say I blame her. They say he is cold, unfeeling, and insufferable. No one knows what he is looking for, but they are all desperate enough to try. The title, the wealth… to many of them it is worth the risk.”

Their conversation slowly faded into silence, but the atmosphere of unease they had left behind lingered in Gemma’s mind. She let out a slow, shaky breath, her heart still racing as she tried to make sense of what she had just heard.

A duke, here in this estate… cold and unfeeling, with desperate brides flocking to him? What kind of place have I stumbled into?

Gemma realized that she needed to leave the premises immediately. Hiding in the Duke’s library was only a temporary solution. She needed to find somewhere safe, perhaps the stables or a shed on the grounds, anywhere that would offer her shelter for the night.

But the library… it was warm, comforting, and so much cozier than the cold, barren cell in which she had been confined for so long at the convent.

Her muscles ached from her journey and her body screamed for rest. Her eyes darted toward the low fire still burning in the large stone fireplace. The flames had dwindled to mere embers that cast a faint orange glow across the room.

It was so peaceful, so inviting.

Maybe I can just rest here for a short while. I will be careful. I will not remain here long, just enough to regain my strength.

Gemma creeped noiselessly toward the fireplace. Her knees ached and her legs wobbled slightly as the exhaustion from her journey caught up with her.

She reached the hearth and sank into the chair that sat beside it, the cushions soft and welcoming beneath her. A wave of relief washed over her as the warmth of the fire seeped into her chilled skin.

For a moment she allowed herself not to think about the dangers lurking outside the door, the mysterious Duke, and the men who were plotting to marry off unwilling brides.

Here, in the stillness of the library, she could almost pretend that she was just another guest at the estate, resting after a long day.

Gemma reached for a book on the side table, its cover worn from years of use. She opened it and began to read by the faint light of the fire, her eyes scanning the delicate print. The words blurred together and although she tried to focus, her mind kept drifting back to the conversations she had overheard.

Gemma was too tired to dwell on it for long. Her body sagged more deeply into the chair as her eyelids grew heavy. She fought to stay awake by reminding herself that falling asleep would be unsafe. As she turned the pages of the book, the fire’s warmth and the comfortable chair lulled her into a sense of peace she hadn’t felt in years.

Just a little longer… just a few minutes more…

She reached for another book, her fingers trembling slightly from fatigue, and nestled it in her lap. She tried to immerse herself in the story, but the words swam before her tired eyes.

It had been so long since she’d had the luxury of reading for pleasure, of simply sitting in peace without fear of punishment.

Gemma allowed herself to dream for a moment and imagine a life beyond the convent, away from the constant dread of punishment. She imagined a life where she could be free to read, to explore and to live without the walls closing in around her.

Her thoughts were abruptly shattered by a deep, commanding voice that cut through the quiet of the library like a knife.

“Who are you, and what are you doing in here?”

Gemma jumped with shock, her heart leaping into her throat as she spun around in her chair. The book slipped from her lap and hit the floor with a soft thud.

Standing in the doorway was a tall and broad-shouldered man, his dark hair framing a face that was both striking and intimidating. His cold and piercing eyes bore into her with an intensity that made her breath catch.

He took a step forward, his expression unreadable as he scrutinized her with deep suspicion.

“I asked you a question. Who are you?”

Gemma’s pulse raced and she scrambled to her feet, instinctively backing away from the imposing figure. She tried to find the right words, any explanation that might save her from whatever wrath this man might unleash upon her.

“I—I am sorry,” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. “I did not mean to?—”

His gaze swept over her, taking in her disheveled appearance, the bruises on her knees and the exhaustion etched into her features. For a second, something like pity flickered in his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

“You should not be here,” he said in a voice filled with disapproval. “This is the Duke’s library.”

Gemma swallowed hard, her throat dry.

What can I possibly say to save myself?