Page 6 of His Godsent Duchess
Miss Peversly was capable, however, he was more certain now that his daughters needed a mother to reinforce discipline. He needed to marry Lady Christina.
Christina stared at the clock on the fireplace mantle, willing it to stop. The ornate hands moved with an unforgiving precision, each tick a reminder of her impending doom. The relentless ticking matched the frantic beating of her heart. She was to be married to the Duke of Kilton in an hour, and she could barely breathe, or think.
I am not supposed to be here!Alas, her parents had been watching her since the start of her engagement, not allowing her a moment to consider how she would run away. Every step she took was shadowed by their watchful eyes, every letter she tried to write scrutinized.
Her mother, Helen, swept into the salon, her presence as commanding as ever. "Are you ready, Christina?" she asked, her voice the perfect example of composure.
"It is not yet time!" Christina replied immediately. Her voice trembled slightly.
Her mother nodded, her expression unreadable. "Indeed, it is not. The Duke is yet to return." They were in his manor on the outskirts of London where the wedding ceremony was to be held.
Christina felt a spark of hope ignite within her. "What manner of groom does not bother to be present when his bride arrives at his home for the wedding?" she quipped, trying to mask her desperation with humor. "Is he reconsidering his decision to marry me? Surely, that is to be expected, for we are yet to be introduced." Her attempt at levity was a thin veil over her growing panic.
"Christina!" her mother scolded sharply. "Do be quiet and aim for perfection. Do not curse yourself with such foolish thoughts." Her mother's eyes flashed with irritation, and Christina felt the sting of her rebuke.
Christina clenched her fists, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She moved to sit in a chair, but her mother stepped forward, blocking her path. "You will wrinkle your dress." Helen's gaze was stern, her posture rigid.
Christina looked down at the pale blue silk and lace, feeling something sour within. The dress was beautiful, but it felt like a prison. The fabric was heavy and suffocating, despite its delicate appearance. She sighed deeply, her shoulders slumping with the weight of her impending fate. The door opened again, and Joanna, Juliette, and Annie entered. Their presence was a welcome relief.
They all hugged her, and Joanna asked, "How are you, dearest?"
"I feel as if I might cast up my accounts any moment now." Her voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes wide with anxiety.
"Sit down, then," Joanna urged.
"Mother warned me not to wrinkle my dress," Christina replied, glancing at her mother, who nodded—not to give her permission but to reassert her point. The silent command was clear, and Christina felt the noose tighten around her resolve.
Juliette surreptitiously rolled her eyes but maintained her supportive smile. Her rebellious spirit shone through, offering Christina a glimmer of solidarity. Christina held Annie's hand, feeling a pang of sorrow for her sister's quiet demeanor. Annie's silence reminded Christina of her own desperate need for freedom. She could not allow this to happen. She will not marry the Duke!
"I need a moment alone," Christina announced, placing her hand on her stomach and feigning a look of discomfort. "I must use the retiring room." Her heart pounded as she waited for her mother's response.
"Someone should go with you," Helen said.
Joanna smiled and addressed her. "My Lady, surely a bride requires a momentaloneto compose herself. We all felt this on our wedding day." This seemed to convince her mother to allow her to leave, and she nodded.
"Thank you," Christina mouthed as she left the salon, closing the door firmly behind her. The instant the door clicked shut and she was by herself, she broke into a run.
She hurried down the hallway of the large manor, her pulse quickening with every step. Her breathing grew rapid, her chest tight with anticipation. She glanced at every open doorway she passed, searching for an escape. She passed a drawing room, then suddenly halted, her mind racing. A plan formed in her mind, fueled by desperation and hope.
Retracing her steps, she slipped into the drawing room. Glancing over her shoulder to ensure there was no one around, she bolted through the open glass doors that led out onto the terrace. The cool air hit her face, invigorating her resolve as she ran across the terrace and into the garden beyond.
Christina almost leaped with joy when she found stairs that led from the terrace to the gardens. Her heart soared with the thrill of freedom.No more marrying the Duke!she thought to herself as she ran, uncertain where she was going. The lush greenery of the gardens provided a labyrinth of escape routes.
When she heard giggles some distance away from the manor, however, she slowed and looked around. There were two girls trying to climb a rather slender tree on the edge of the gardens.
She had half a mind to continue her escape, but she saw the tree bend slightly as one of the girls attempted to climb. The thin branches creaked under the weight, and Christina's concern grew. They might injure themselves, and she could not allow that to happen. Chrstina approached them, thinking she had a moment to spare. "I do not recommend climbing that tree," she called.
One of the girls, with golden curls and bright green eyes, tilted her head and asked, "Why?"
Christina reached them and smiled. "Take a look at the tree, my dear. Does it look sturdy to you?"
"No, it does not." The girl shook her head.
"Then perhaps you might be able to guess what could happen if you climbed it." Christina looked around the gardens, wondering if the girls lived in the manor and whether they were related to the Duke. "Why are you here climbing trees anyways?"
"We are not supposed to be here. We snuck out of the manor."
Christina immediately felt a sense of kinship with the girls. "What are your names?"
