Page 50 of The Unwanted Duchess

“Only four years. I thought I would never marry at all; I was too busy with my work as a seamstress, but then I met Harold, and it all made sense.”

“Do you no longer work?”

“Of course, I do! We cannot all stop simply because high society thinks we should. In fact, it is my dressmaking that means we can afford to come here every week.”

“And what of your children?”

She faltered slightly.

“I do not think that we shall have children,” she explained. “Should we be blessed with them, then we shall find a way, but after four years and nothing to show for it in that respect… well, let us simply say that I am glad that my husband and I enjoy each other’s company!”

“And you do not feel lesser than as a wife?” she asked. “Pardon my asking! You need not answer if you do not wish, but… it is a concern of mine.”

“I know many ladies that have never become mothers. Some have husbands that loathe them for it, and others have husbands that rejoice in the fact that their life need never change.”

“My husband does not seem to care at all.”

“Then you are fortunate. You can spend your time doing what you truly love, whatever that may be.”

“Well, not exactly,” Samantha laughed emptily. “It is not as though there are universities desperate to have ladies attend.”

“Ah. I see your predicament now. Regardless, your position will help you immensely.”

“And if I have children?”

“Then you will find a way, just as myself and my husband would. It is all far easier than you might think, Your Grace. So long as you and your husband love each other, there is nothing that you cannot do.”

Samantha wished to embrace the lady, but she knew it was not the proper thing to do. Then she thought about how the only way through would be if she and the Duke loved each other, and she sighed to herself. If that were to be the case, then there may be difficulty after all.

Her dinner, however, was wonderful. She succeeded in sharing parts of it with her new companion, but when she left, Samantha came to a realization.

She was terrified of inns.

Sitting alone in the room, she felt as though she was being watched. She could not see anyone, but she could feel eyes on her. It had been some time since she had attempted to flee to a nunnery, but the memories of the attack on her and Diana had not left her. She had thought about it from time to time, but now that she was in an inn, it all felt as though it had happened a mere week before.

“Excuse me,” she said quickly to the innkeeper, “I am the Duchess of Gloryfield. Which room is mine?”

“I shall take you there,” he suggested, eyeing her carefully.

“Thank you.”

“Is everything all right, Your Grace?”

“Yes, yes of course.”

“Are you certain? I can send for your husband if you wish.”

“No! No, that will not be necessary.”

“Very well. It is this way.”

Even with the company of the innkeeper, it felt as though Samantha could not trust anyone that she saw. Someone was out to get her, just as they had been before. Just as someone had been when they blackmailed her into her marriage. Perhaps that was who was watching her?

She regretted retiring to her room. It was lovely, truly fit for a duchess, but it was also dark and silent. She waited for the sound, for something to appear out of nowhere and grab her again, but it was not coming. Was nobody coming?

Somehow, that frightened her even more. They may not arrive, but they would still be there, watching.

The door opened. Samantha screamed.

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