Page 76 of Wedded to the Sinful Duke

There was a pause and then the sharp, authoritative tone of Mother Superior responded, filled with impatience. “We need to get to the nunnery as soon as possible.”

“I understand that,” the man responded, “but dead horses will take you nowhere. They need to eat, to rest. They are living creatures, after all.”

“Very well,” Mother Superior hissed.

Ciara’s pulse quickened as she heard the creak of the carriage door opening, and the heavy thud of boots hitting the ground. Moments later, the voices faded as Mother Superior and the coachman moved away from the carriage.

The realization that they were stopping at an inn filled her with a flicker of hope. Maybe this was her chance to escape. She listened intently, waiting for an opportunity. But as the minutes dragged on, that flicker of hope began to wane. She heard the coachman’s voice again, this time more distant as he secured the horses and conversed with someone at the inn.

Ciara’s mind raced, considering her options. She could try to break free, but her body was weak, and the cell was solidly built. Still, she had to try. This could be her one chance to try and break free.

“Help! Someone, please help me!”

Her cries echoed through the cold night air, but before she could call out again, she heard the heavy footsteps of Mother Superior approaching. The door to the carriage was flung open, and the imposing figure of Mother Superior stood there, silhouetted against the dim light.

“Silence!” Mother Superior hissed, her eyes burning with anger. “Do you think your cries will save you? No one is coming for you, Ciara.”

Ciara’s heart pounded in her chest, but she refused to back down. “Please, let me go. I’ll do anything.”

Mother Superior’s expression twisted into a cruel smile. “Anything, you say? Very well, then. How about this: if you utter another word, I will simply say that you are sick with madness and that I am taking you to the convent to heal you with the word of God. Who do you think they will believe, even if you do manage to get someone’s attention?”

Ciara’s blood ran cold. She knew that because Mother Superior was a woman of the cloth, anyone would be in a disposition to believe her over Ciara. She knew Mother Superior was not bluffing; she would do whatever it took to break her spirit.

“Do you understand, Ciara?” Mother Superior continued, her voice dripping with malice. “One more word and I will make your stay at the nunnery a living nightmare, just like you’ve made your parents’ lives.”

Tears filled Ciara’s eyes as she nodded silently, her resolve crumbling under the weight of the threat. The harsh treatment she had already endured was hellish enough. She doubted she would be able to survive anything more brutal than that.

Mother Superior seemed satisfied with her compliance. “Good. Now, keep quiet and accept your punishment like the wretched soul you are.”

With that, she slammed the door shut, leaving Ciara in the suffocating darkness of the cell. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional creak of the carriage and the distant sounds of the inn.

Ciara curled up on the floor, her body trembling with fear and exhaustion. She felt utterly defeated, trapped in a nightmare with no end in sight. But she held on to the thought of her friends, drawing strength from the knowledge that she was protecting them, even at the cost of her own freedom.

CHAPTER 36

Jonathan felt as if he had been riding for an eternity when he finally arrived at the Hartfield estate, his heart pounding with a mix of anger and worry. He dismounted his horse, throwing the reins to a nearby stable hand, and strode up the grand steps of the estate. His face was set in a determined scowl as he rapped sharply on the door. Within moments, the butler opened it and bowed.

“I need to speak to Ciara, immediately. It is a matter of the utmost urgency,” he demanded, without a greeting.

The butler didn’t show any surprise or shock, almost as if he were used to such sights of emergency in the household. Instead, he just nodded, ushering him into the drawing room. “Please wait here, Your Grace,” he told him. “Someone will be right with you.”

Jonathan paced about the chamber nervously, not thinking about the questions he would ask in case he stumbled onto her parents. There was no time for propriety, and he didn’t careabout it in the least bit. In fact, he didn’t even want to be there. As soon as Ciara came to him, he would ask her to take a walk with him outside because what he had to say could not be said inside that house.

But when the door opened, he didn’t see Ciara’s lovely face. Instead, Lord and Lady Hartfield greeted him, looking stunned to see him.

“Your Grace,” Lord Hartfield began, a forced smile on his face, regaining at least a semblance of composure, “what a nice surprise.”

Jonathan frowned. “I’m not here for false niceties. Where is Ciara? It is her I wish to talk to, not you.” His voice was cold and unyielding, his eyes narrowing as he scanned their faces for any hint of deceit.

They might have deceived Ciara about being changed people and somehow transforming into what they had never been, but they could never deceive him.

Lord Hartfield exchanged a nervous glance with his wife then he focused on Jonathan once again. “Ciara is not here, I’m afraid.”

“Where is she?” Jonathan demanded. “I will not leave this place until I see my wife and speak to her. You have no right to hide her from me.”

“We do,” Lord Hartfield replied. “She told you she needed time away from you.”

“I want her to tell it to me,” Jonathan insisted. “Not you.”

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