or tremble. He must not sense her fear. Her husband may not love her, but he had her watched, like a hawk. Her family had a reputation for setting up intrigues, her own birth was evidence of it, and her eldest sister was as bad as their mother. The Marquis of Kilbride did not wish to be cuckolded. He might play away from the marriage bed, yet she must stay loyal, and to ensure her loyalty he surrounded her with his staff.
The street was busy, a throng of people flowed past, even though it was still relatively early. She hoped the crowded pavement would help her.
The footman bowed low over her hand, then let it go and turned to force her a path through the people.
The broad bow window of the shop displayed fabrics and fashions. The footman opened the door and held it open as the bell above jangled.
She walked in. He followed.
How long would it be before he guessed something was amiss once she’d gone?
Half a dozen customers touched fabrics and accessories, which had been put out on the counters for them to consider.
Caro’s eyes scanned the occupants through the fine net of the veil she’d worn to cover the bruising on her face, and her identity. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She knew no one, and she hoped no one, bar the modiste, would know her. She did not want to be stopped by anyone.
She held her heavy reticule carefully as she crossed the room, so it appeared light, hiding the weight of the jewellery within it. She’d taken nothing that belonged to Albert, only what he had given to her as gifts in their first year—the year she’d believed he’d loved her.
It was what she hoped to live on. She did not wish to be entirely dependent on Drew nor to become a burden. She would live quietly and spend little.
“May I see some fabrics for a new ballgown?” Caro pointed out some bolts. The modiste’s assistant took them down and lifted a pattern book out from beneath the counter.
Caro touched each fabric as the assistant unravelled lengths. This would be the last time she would have the chance to look at such fine things. She picked a very delicate pale pink, then thumbed through the fashion book. Her heart racing, she stopped suddenly and left it on an open page as she leant across the counter to ask the assistant discreetly, “May I use your convenience, please?” Her voice had trembled. She coughed as if clearing her throat.
When Albert’s footman attempted to follow them through a door at the back of the shop, the assistant shooed him away.
Caro was led through a workroom and then out to a cold, short corridor. The closet was at the end of that. Caro had used it before, and she knew how it was situated, next to the rear entrance into the yard behind the shop.
“I will find my own way back,” she said to the girl when she went into the closet. Caro shut the door for a moment. But she did not make use of the chamber pot, which had been left in the room. Her fingers gripped at her waist while she listened to the assistant walk away. Caro came out and turned to the door, her heart thumping against her ribs. She opened it and shut it quietly.
Drew was there.
“Caro,” he whispered as he took her hand. “Come.” He led her out of the shop yard. “Did they query your exit?”
“No, I asked the modiste if I might use her closet, but there is a footman waiting for me in the shop.”
“Then we had best hurry.”
His grip on her hand pulled her into a run along the narrow cobbled alley at the back of the row of shops.
“There is a hired carriage at the end of the alley. I ordered it in a false name. We will change carriages once we are out of London and go the opposite way, and then change again. No one will be able to trace you. Where was Kilbride when you left?”
“I waited until he’d left for the House of Lords. He will be there hours before he knows I am gone. He cannot abide being interrupted while he is in the House.”
When they reached the end of the alley, the door of the waiting carriage was ajar. Drew pulled it wider and handed her up, then climbed in behind her.
“Go!” He called up to the driver, before shutting the door. He pulled down the blinds to hide them from view.
Caro’s hands shook as she opened her reticule. “I have brought something to help. I cannot allow you to support me entirely, Drew.” Gold and jewels glinted in the low light of the carriage as she opened the handkerchief she’d hidden them in. “They are all gifts he has given me, they were mine to take, earbobs, hair slides, bracelets and necklaces.”
Drew smiled awkwardly.
He’d expected nothing and yet he was not a wealthy man. He needed the dowry he’d received from his wife to find his own happiness, not hers.
He said nothing, turning away to lift the edge of the blind and peer around it as they passed the front of the shop, and Albert’s carriage.
Drew looked back at her. “They do not appear to have noticed your absence yet.”
When they did discover her gone there would be bedlam. They would fear Albert’s response. She would always be terrified of her husband’s influence.
What if he found her?
Drew’s hand held hers, offering comfort and reassurance.
She was grateful and yet his own marriage was falling apart, his wife had left him.
They were both flawed.
They’d been scarred as children by their mother’s betrayal and their stepfather’s hatred. But on top of that Drew had the curse of male pride. He would not plead his case and try to persuade Mary to have him back.
~
“We will leave the carriage here and walk,” Drew stated when it jolted to a halt. It was the last stage of their journey.
He opened the door and took her hand. She climbed out, her eyes wide and heartbeat racing. He kept a hold of her, leading her out of the inn’s courtyard.
They turned a corner and walked down another street. Then past a shallow ford across a river and a large, ornate building.
Drew continued walking until they reached a row of terraced, whitewashed, thatched cottages. Most had gardens filled with vegetable plants, but the one in the middle was full of flowers in bloom. When they reached it Drew opened the gate in the stone wall that ran along the edge of the road.
They walked up the path.
The cottage door was small, but it was the entrance to her new life. In that context it was a giant step.
Drew knocked and the door opened. A thin, middle-aged woman, dressed in unrelenting black, stood there. Drew hurried Caro in and shut the door. It was dark inside and the ceilings were low. It felt a little like a prison cell—gloomy, cold and desolate.
She had come from affluence to this, tumbling down the stations of society, simply because she could not bear a child.
Drew stayed with her for a while, as the housekeeper who
