Chapter 29

29

Early Wednesday morning,Calliope sat on a small settee in the Howitts’ sitting room, drumming her fingers against the windowsill and watching the village through the slightly imperfect glass. Tiny bubbles and subtle ripples in the pane distorted the view, giving the outside world a dreamlike quality.

Beyond the window, Kelford village looked idyllic with the soft glow of morning light. Women in bonnets chatted by the communal well, drawing water in wooden buckets. Children ran about, playing with hoops and sticks, their laughter echoing through the streets. A few men tipped their hats in greeting as they headed to their work, some leading horse-drawn carts filled with produce or goods for the market.

Every so often, a horse’s hoofbeats would break the steady hum of village chatter, and a rider or carriage would pass.

She hated how much she loved it. This may be her home in one year, the village she’d come to visit as the Duchess of Kelford who lived in Kelford Manor nearby. And she craved coming here with Nathaniel.

Last night was horrible. Not because of the bed or the room or anything in the house. But because every fear she had about her and Nathaniel’s relationship had come true.

And she felt rejected. Set aside. Controlled.

Imprisoned by the man she loved.

And so, so alone.

She still felt tired and nauseated; she couldn’t eat much except for Mrs. Howitt’s pickled walnuts, which settled her stomach.

“May I bring you something else, Your Grace?” Mrs. Howitt asked with a kind smile.

Calliope returned her smile. “No. I’m quite all right, thank you, Mrs. Howitt.”

“Very well. If I may inquire…you seem upset… Whatever happened, I know my master. He’s always been a kind soul. After his mama died…he was never the same. Neither was his papa.”

Calliope nodded, unsure how to respond. What was she supposed to do? Sit here every day, watching the village, the people, while she slowly died inside?

No. That was not who she was. She’d let Nathaniel bring her here, which was a mistake. She would show him that this was not the life she wanted with him. He was hiding behind fear—and, whatever their agreement, she was not just a womb. She wouldn’t let him lock her up like this.

She would know how to keep the baby safe. And besides, there may not even be a baby yet; it was too early to tell.

She stood up, an idea making her straighten her shoulders and keep her head high. “I’d like a walk,” she said. “A bit of fresh air would suit me well.”

“That sounds like a marvelous idea,” said Mrs. Howitt. “There’s a ribbon and fabrics shop on the market square. Perhaps a new shawl would cheer you up?”

Calliope nodded. “Yes, precisely. Thank you! I’ll go up and get my money purse.”

“Very well. I’ll tell Abigail to accompany you.”

“Please do.”

Abigail was a good sport. She wouldn’t mind Calliope’s plan. Calliope went up to the room that had been provided for her and took her money purse as well as all her jewelry. She thought she’d need as much as she could take for what she had in mind.

As she and Abigail strolled through the village streets, Calliope asked a woman to direct her to a farmer who bred horses.

They walked for about ten minutes and reached a farm at the edge of the village. There, two men, one in his forties and one around twenty, forked hay from a cart to a large haystack. Calliope introduced herself as their new duchess.

“Would your son like a trip to London?” she asked. He looked like he was a strong young man, and she had her pistols with her. And if they left now, they wouldn’t need to travel after dark.

“I’ll pay for his time, of course,” she said.

The younger man looked up at her with great hope in his eyes. “I would, Your Grace.”

“My lady, what are you doing?” asked Abigail quietly.

“Finding a way to London,” said Calliope.

“But His Grace was clear—”

A wave of anger hit Calliope at the mention of Nathaniel. “His Grace is delusional if he thinks I’ll let him lock me up.”

Calliope looked at the farmer’s son. “Do you know the way?”

“Yes, I do. That is, I know the way to Bramblebrook. That is halfway to London. We can ask for directions from there.”

“But wouldn’t His Grace send a carriage with footmen for you, my lady?” Abigail asked. “The roads may not be safe.”

“Begging your pardon, Your Grace,” said the farmer. “I need my son here, and he’s never been so far from the village.”

“I’ll only be gone a short time, and I know the way, Pa,” the young man reassured his father. The farmer studied his son for a moment and then clapped him on the shoulder with a warm smile, a little worry still lingering around his eyes.

“My lady, I wish you would reconsider…” whispered Abigail hotly. “What about our things?”

“We can have our things brought later…besides, I don’t want Mrs. Howitt to know. She may do something to stop us.”

“But, my lady—”

“Excellent,” said Calliope to the farmer with a broad smile and pointed. “I’ll take your best horse and that gig.”

She handed the farmer her ruby and sapphire necklace. The farmer’s eyes widened. “Your Grace, this is too much.”

“No, it’s not. It’s just right. And perhaps your son may know another young man who could act as my bodyguard and would like a trip to London. And perhaps your wife could pack us enough food for the journey. I must be in London by seven this night.”

As the farmer and his son nodded and started to prepare the horse and the gig, Calliope sighed with relief, even though Abigail was clearly uncertain about this.

Nathaniel’s rejection was painful. She loved him, but she was not willing to be open with him anymore if this was how he planned to treat her. She’d keep her thoughts and feelings to herself from now on, as she always should have.