Page 47 of His Runaway Duchess

Edward crouched down beside his son.

I wish I had time to prepare for this.

“Alex, you won’t know this woman,” he began hesitantly. “But this is the Duchess of Blackwood. She is your mother’s sister. Alex, this is your aunt Beatrice.”

Beatrice stepped forward, staring down at Alex.

“He looks so much like her,” she breathed.

Alex nervously lifted his little hand to his face. “Do I? Do I look like Mama?”

Beatrice carefully knelt down before the boy, supported by her husband.

“I’m very pleased to meet you, Alex,” she said solemnly, holding out her hand. “I was there when you were born.”

Alex’s eyes widened, and he took his aunt’s hand.

Edward bit his lip, getting to his feet. It was a sweet moment, and he almost felt that?—

He froze as a dark figure in a white, flimsy gown flitted past the window, swathed in twilight.

Surely that wasn’t…

It is her. Of course, it’s her. The wretched girl is trying to escape.

“Do excuse me,” he said smoothly and glided out of the room.

CHAPTER 13

It was too much. It was all too much. What was she meant to do? Stay inside, struggling to breathe and fighting down panic?

No, that couldn’t happen. Daphne had spent time pacing up and down in her room. Something was happening, judging by the scurrying of the servants around the upper floors, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

It was getting dark outside, making the feeling of being shut-in even worse.

I can’t bear it.

Throwing on an old white nightgown, little more than a chemise, Daphne pulled on a long coat to cover it and a pair of sturdy boots. She crept down and slid out through the unlocked French doors at the side of the house, and fled into the night.

She knew exactly where she was going. She’d seen it from her window—the glimmer of a pool, set deep among the trees. She could almost feel the cool water already, like silk on her skin, refreshing. Like being reborn.

Daphne breathed out in relief when the path led her to open grass and into the forest. The air was cool, and dark green undergrowth crowded around her. It was better than that large, stiff house, where nobody said what they thought and nobody was ever happy.

She burst out of the trees, and there she was, on the shore of the pool. The water glistened and rippled invitingly. Streaks of red and purple still striped the sky, giving an ethereal sort of light to the world. A faint mist was creeping over the water already.

Breathing hard, Daphne stripped off her coat, leaving it crumpled on the ground. She toed off her boots and stepped forward… only to be immediately yanked back.

Stumbling, she collided with a firm, solid, and warm chest. She might have fallen, except that the grip on her arm was strong, keeping her upright. She blinked up at her assailant and was not in the least surprised that it was her husband-to-be.

“What,” Edward hissed, “do you think you are doing?”

She yanked her arm out of his grip. “What doyouthink you are doing? You said I could do what I wanted.”

“Yes, but you weren’t supposed to run away!”

She paused, narrowing her eyes at him. “You thought I was running away?”

He paused, shifting from foot to foot. She could see uncertainty creeping in. “Wasn’t that what you were doing?”

---