Page 72 of Wedded to the Sinful Duke

Her father cut her off. “You need to understand, Ciara, that there are certain expectations and standards that come with your position. Your actions have consequences. The way you’re behaving, it’s as if you need a lesson in propriety.”

“You have not changed at all,” her mother pointed out. “But don’t worry, we know how to rectify that… this time for good.”

Her father turned to Mother Superior. “I think we are done here.”

Before she could process the situation, Ciara felt an overwhelming wave of drowsiness wash over her. Her vision blurred, and her limbs grew heavy. She hadn’t noticed it before as she attributed those sensations to stress and fear, but now, she knew better.

She tried to stand, but her body wouldn’t obey her commands.

Realization dawned on her. “You’ve drugged me,” she whispered, horrified.

A sinister smile spread across her father’s face. “It’s for your own good, Ciara. You need to learn your place.”

Mother Superior stepped forward, a look of cold satisfaction on her face. “You thought you could escape your lessons, didn’t you? You will learn obedience, one way or another.”

As Ciara struggled to keep her eyes open, she saw a man step forward, joining Mother Superior. Her heart raced as she recognized him—one of the guards who had tormented her at St. Catherine’s.

“No,” she murmured, trying to resist the encroaching darkness. She attempted to move, to escape, but her body felt like lead.

Her legs buckled beneath her, and she crumpled to the floor, the room spinning around her.

The last thing she saw was the triumphant expressions on her parents’ faces and the cruel, satisfied look of Mother Superior.

Then, everything went black.

Jonathan wasn’t expecting any letters, especially not at that late hour. However, when Winston brought it to him, Jonathan knew it could not be good news. Good news was not delivered in darkness.

He recognized Ciara’s handwriting immediately. With a sigh, he broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. As he read her words, his expression darkened. She was staying with herparents for a while and wanted her things sent over. The implication was clear: she was leaving him, perhaps for good. She had written that the time apart would be beneficial for them, but he knew better than to believe such lies.

His initial reaction was a mix of disbelief and anger. He had been distant, yes, but he never expected her to take such a drastic step. He crumpled the letter in his fist, the parchment crackling under the pressure.

“Damn it,” he muttered, his frustration boiling over.

He stood up abruptly, knocking his chair back, and crossed the room to the fireplace. With a swift, furious motion, he tossed the letter into the flames. The paper caught fire quickly, curling and blackening as it was consumed.

Their relationship was a lost cause; he should have known that from the beginning. What had he expected? That a woman like Ciara, vibrant and full of life, would find happiness with a man like himself?

He clenched his jaw, watching the last remnants of the letter turn to ash.

CHAPTER 34

Ciara awoke to darkness and a stifling sense of confinement. The hard, unforgiving wooden bench beneath her jostled with the motion of the carriage. Panic set in as she realized she was in a confined space, the walls pressing in on her from all sides. Her breaths came in shallow, rapid gasps, and she felt the cold bite of iron against her wrists—she was shackled.

She struggled to sit up, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering through the small, barred window, she saw the thick iron bars surrounding her. She was in the back of a jail coach—a carriage designed like a cell with no means of escape.

Terror gripped her as she pressed herself against the bars, trying to see where she was being taken. The realization of her captivity was suffocating. The space was so small, and the air felt thick and oppressive. She screamed for help, her voice raw and desperate.

“Help! Someone, please help me!” Her cries echoed within the confines of the carriage, absorbed by the unfeeling walls.

Her mind raced, trying to make sense of what had happened. The last thing she remembered was feeling drowsy at dinner, her parents’ smug faces, and the Mother Superior’s sinister presence. They had drugged her, betrayed her. The horror of it all was overwhelming.

She pulled against the shackles, the metal cutting into her skin, but it was no use. Tears streamed down her face as she realized how truly helpless she was. The darkness around her seemed to close in, making it harder to breathe. Her body trembled uncontrollably, her thoughts a chaotic swirl of fear and confusion.

“Please,” she sobbed, her voice breaking. “Please, let me out!”

But there was no answer, only the relentless rattling of the carriage as it moved along the rough road. Ciara felt the walls pressing in on her, the small space becoming tighter with every passing moment. She had never felt so trapped, so utterly powerless.

The feeling of claustrophobia intensified, and she closed her eyes, trying to calm herself, but the darkness only made it worse. She could feel her sanity slipping, the terror clawing at her mind. She screamed again, a primal, anguished sound that reverberated through the carriage, a desperate plea to the uncaring night.

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