Page 10 of If the Duke Dares
She’d gone upstairs before them and quietly packed a few things into her valise. Then, she’d used her letter-writing supplies to scratch out a short note informing them that she was returning home. After barely sleeping, she’d roused herself from her narrow bed in the corner of their chamber, removed her bedclothes, which she might need, and stolen away.
The first mail coach had been going west to Gloucester, and while that wasn’t the direction Persephone wanted to go, she’d taken it with plans to depart at Gloucester, where she would take a coach south to Bristol.
It was too late to go to Weston. All her friends would have gone by now as it was the first of September. Min and Ellis were on their way to Bedfordshire, and Tamsin would be journeying to Cornwall. Gwen, however, lived in Bristol. That was Persephone’s destination by default. Persephone only hoped the Prices would give her shelter, at least for a few days.
Persephone wondered what her parents had done when they’d found the note she’d written. Her mother was likely outraged and would make sure her father felt the same. They’d probably arrived at Radstock Hall yesterday afternoon only to find that Persephone wasn’t there. That would have made the baroness practically apoplectic. Persephone didn’t feel even a little badly.
But here she was in Gloucester, having had to spend the night and take the coach to Bristol in the morning. Which was how she found herself once again departing an inn at dawn.
It was good that she’d had plans to leave early. That way, she would avoid seeing Wellesbourne. She was sure the man she’d met last night was him. When he’d confessed to being nobility, then told her he was traveling home to meet a potential bride and that home was near Stratford-upon-Avon, she’d deduced that he had to be the duke she was supposed to meet. Then he’d behaved like an arse, and she’d been absolutely convinced.
Perhaps she shouldn’t have baited him, but she wanted to know if he was the rake that she’d heard him to be. He was that and more. To try to seduce a widow when he was on his way to meet his potential duchess was abominable.
She’d broken two of the Rogue Rules by being alone with him and flirting with him, though the flirting had been fake. The moment she began to suspect his identity, she focused on the most important rule: ruin him before he can ruin you. She’d decided dousing him with Madeira was as close to ruin as she could bring him given the circumstances. She was sure as hell not going to allow him to ruin her.
Recalling his surprised features drenched in Madeira brought a smile to her face. She oughtn’t take pleasure in his discomfort, but after what his friend had done to Pandora, she concluded there was no harm in it. Men like the two of them deserved a splash of wine in the face now and then.
Persephone made her way through the common room and departed the inn. The sun was now up, casting a milky light over the yard. Glancing about, she nearly stumbled as she caught sight of the duke walking out of the stables. She did not want him to see her!
Heart pounding, she hastened across the yard away from his path. She didn’t dare look back as she rushed toward the mail stop to catch the coach to Bristol. The last thing she needed was to have to speak with him after last night. Hopefully, she would never encounter him again.
She barely made the coach in time. Indeed, it was loud and confusing, and there were multiple coaches. She was just glad to have made it and that she was able to sit inside the coach, since it was chilly. Her valise had been strapped to the back.
The sun was now visible above the horizon as the coach started forward. Persephone closed her eyes and tried not to think of how tightly the woman beside her was pressed into her side. At least it was a woman and not some man with wandering hands.
Persephone imagined Wellesbourne sitting beside her. He’d try to engage her in conversation, then he might attempt to lean closer or even touch her. He’d certainly proposition her with more lewd language.
Well, perhaps not after she’d tossed her wine at him.
If Persephone were honest, and she didn’t really want to be, she would admit that his attention to her had been initially flattering—before she’d known who he was. He’d seemed to find her genuinely attractive. For the first time in years, and only the second time ever, she’d felt desirable. Now that she knew his identity, she rather hated that he’d been the one to make her feel that way.
He probably hadn’t even found her that alluring. Men like him said and did whatever was necessary to achieve their goal. And his goal had, without question, been to seduce her into spending the night with him.
There was no point in wasting any more time thinking of him. She was never going to see him again.
Unless her parents continued to insist that she marry him. She could only hope that if they ever met, he’d recall she’d thrown wine on him and immediately declare they did not suit.
Persephone wondered what her parents were doing now. Were they looking for Persephone upon discovering she hadn’t actually returned home? Not because they cared for her, but because she was apparently intrinsic to their desperate plan to save the family.
More than anything, Persephone wanted to believe that. However, she couldn’t, not after the demands they’d placed on her along with the revelation that she was to be cast aside as soon as Pandora married and elevated the family. She realized her panicked flight was about more than avoiding marriage to a scoundrel. She didn’t want to just be her parents’ pawn; she wanted to be their daughter. Whom they loved.
Heart aching, Persephone turned her thoughts to someone whodidlove her: Pandora. Hopefully, she was feeling better being with Aunt Lucinda. After staying in Bristol with Gwen for a few days, Persephone determined she ought to join them. In Bath, at Aunt Lucinda’s, she could come up with a plan for her future. More and more, she expected it would not be at Radstock Hall.
Feeling sad and tired, Persephone allowed the movement of the coach to lull her to sleep.
The sun was much higher in the sky when she jolted awake. And the coach was half-empty.
The older man across from her was leaning toward her. “Is this your stop?”
Persephone blinked several times. “Are we in Bristol?”
He stared at her as if she were daft. “This is Worcester.”
Worcester! She’d gone completely in the wrong direction! In all the fuss that morning, she must have boarded the wrong coach.
Clambering down, Persephone stumbled as she hit the dirt. The coach wouldn’t stop for long, so she hastened to the back to fetch her valise. There were several trunks and other pieces of luggage, but her small gray valise wasn’t where she’d seen it stowed. It wasn’t there at all.
Panicking, she rushed to the front of the coach, where the coachman was just settling onto the box. “Pardon me,” she said. “My valise isn’t on the back of the coach. It’s gray and about this size.” She held her hands up to approximate the valise.
