Page 71 of Her Sinful Duke

Mother Superior’s study was a small, austere room that reflected the solemnity and devotion of its occupant. The walls were lined with dark wooden shelves filled with leather-bound volumes of theological texts and worn prayer books. A large crucifix hung on one wall, and a single stained-glass window cast colorful patterns of light onto the stone floor.

The Mother Superior herself sat behind a sturdy wooden desk, her posture straight and composed. She was an elderly woman, her face etched with the lines of a life devoted to service and contemplation. Her habit was immaculate, and a simple silver cross hung from a chain around her neck. Her eyes, a penetrating blue, were both kind and commanding, conveying wisdom and authority.

As James entered the room, she looked up from the papers on her writing table and fixed him with a serene yet scrutinizing gaze. She didn’t get up.

“You have come to speak to me,” she announced as if it were something he didn’t know. “Please, take a seat. Now, how may I help you, young man?”

James sat, his back straight, feeling both relieved and anxious. Mother Superior folded her hands in front of her and regarded him with a cool, measured expression.

“I have come here for my wife,” he said, equally calmly still although beneath the surface, he was burning with rage that everyone here was so calm, and a kidnapping had taken place. He tried to remind himself that perhaps they had no idea that Penelope had been brought to them under those dire circumstances. Hopefully, they would react immediately and rectify this dreadful mistake.

She raised an eyebrow. “We do not have wives here,” she told him. “This is a nunnery.”

Immediately, he could sense antagonism in her words. James’ jaw tightened. “Mother Superior, I know for a fact that my wife, Penelope Chapman is here. She was brought against her will. I demand to see her this instant.”

Mother Superior’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You are mistaken, young man. The woman you seek is not here. I suggest you look elsewhere.”

James leaned forward, his voice low and intense. “I know she was brought here.”

“Did you see her within these walls with your own eyes?” she demanded to know.

He gritted his teeth. “No.”

Mother Superior’s expression remained unchanged, her voice dreadfully calm. “You are mistaken. We do not harbor anyone here against their will. And I do not appreciate these accusations.”

James felt his frustration mounting. “This is not a mistake. If you won’t let me see her, I will have no choice but to involve the authorities.”

Mother Superior’s eyes flashed with irritation at him. “I assure you, young man, you will find no evidence of your wife here. And involving the authorities will only bring unnecessary trouble upon yourself and this holy place.” She got up, signaling that their conversation was over. “I suggest you leave now. There is nothing more for you here.”

James stood up as well. “This is not over. Iwillfind her, and Iwillbring her home.”

He turned on his heel and left her study, his mind racing. As soon as he opened the door, he realized that a young woman around the age of eighteen, one of the few was not dressed in nun’s robes—another oblate, he assumed— was standing in front of the door, most probably waiting to escort him out. She waited until he closed the door. She locked gazes with him, her eyes wide with urgency as she silently gestured at him to follow her. He hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to trust her, but something in her demeanor suggested she was an ally.

“Your Grace, please… we have to hurry,” she whispered, glancing nervously down the corridor.

James nodded and followed her, his heart pounding in his chest. They wound through a maze of narrow, dimly lit hallways, the oblate leading him deeper into the convent. He could hear the distant murmurs of prayer and the soft rustling of habits, but the corridors they traversed were eerily empty.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked in a low voice, suspicion mingling with hope.

The young woman glanced back at him, her face pale but determined. “To your wife. But we must be careful. If Mother Superior discovers this, there will be severe consequences.”

James’ heart leapt at her words, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. Was this a trap? He had no choice but to trust her for now. “Thank you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

They continued down the labyrinthine corridors, turning corner after corner, descending narrow staircases, and passing through doors that seemed to blend seamlessly with the walls. James tried to keep track of their route but soon lost his bearings entirely. As they walked, the girl’s pace quickened, and James’ unease grew. The silence of the convent felt oppressive, the only sounds their soft footsteps and the occasional creak of ancient wood. The air was cool and musty, filled with the faint scent of incense and old stone.

“Please,” James whispered urgently, “tell me we’re getting close.”

The young woman nodded, her expression resolute. “We are. Just a little further.”

For a moment, he thought that this was truly a trap. She obviously knew who he was as she was addressing him as Your Grace. She had to know that he was Penelope’s husband. At the same time, that also meant that Mother Superior was lying. He had proof of it now. This oblate knew him, and that had to mean that Penelope was there. James fought through his fear, realizing that he couldn’t turn back now. He had to rely on his guide, wherever she was leading him.

As they continued through the labyrinthine corridors, the oblate abruptly halted and motioned for James to do the same. She pressed herself against the cold stone wall, and James followed suit, his heart pounding. Footsteps echoed down the hallway, growing louder with each passing second.

The oblate gestured for James to stay silent and still. They were concealed in a narrow alcove, shrouded in shadows. James held his breath, his pulse racing, as two nuns appeared at the far end of the corridor, deep in conversation.

“…Mother Superior has been quite strict about the new arrivals,” one of the nuns was saying, her voice carrying through the silent hall. “I heard she doesn’t want anyone wandering these parts without explicit permission.”

The other nun nodded, her face etched with concern. “It’s best we stay vigilant, especially with the recent… incidents.”

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