the pounding in her head to increase. Her eyes desperately scanned the woods for any sign of help, though she knew none would be forthcoming.
“And of course with the child being mine, I will gain the dukedom,” Matthew continued. “I shall become your protector, so to speak. Now, my dear, we must make haste to inform the servants of the terrible atrocity that has taken place this fateful day.”
Your Grace, there is a messenger here to see you.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Cuthwell.” Ann went to the narrow entrance and accepted the message. As soon as she returned to the warm parlor she opened the missive and perused the letter from her father. It stated
that, after a lengthy meeting between her father and
uncle, the duke of Wilmington, it had been decided that she should join their brother’s son, Beau Falkner, in America and await the birth of her child. If she delivered a son, he would be the next duke of Gravenworth, thereby thwarting Matthew’s attempts to gain the title. Should the child be a daughter, then other arrangements would have to be made. Passage had already been booked on the Dolphin, one of the fine sailing vessels owned by W. T. Honeycutt, a close friend of her uncle. Funds had also been provided.
Ann crumpled the paper in her hand and stood watching the heavy raindrops strike the cottage windowpane. The dark, low clouds blotted out the sunlight, making it appear more like dusk than morning. A perfect cover for the daring plan she had been contemplating. It would be a terribly risky move on her part, but she would have the advantage of surprise. And, try as she might, it was the only positive way she could think of to prevent Matthew from gaining control of Graven worth. Ann left the parlor and headed for Captain Cuthwell’s small study.
Twenty minutes later, after half-truths and evasions, Antoinette Huntington had managed to talk the retired sea captain into finding her a driver who was trustworthy and had a fast team of horses.
While impatiently awaiting the captain’s return, Ann thought about her escape from Gravenworth. At Edmund’s funeral, a few whispered words to Jonathan Falkner was all it had taken for him to put his only daughter in his coach and whisk her away from Matthew.
Ann smiled warmly. During the trip here, she had told her dear father what had really happened during the hunt. The tall, stately man had been completely understanding, mumbling something about Edmund’s just reward.
“Perhaps it’s because I can’t fathom murdering anyone,” she had said, “but in my heart, I do not believe I fired the shot.”
“I understand you were upset at the time, but it’s. too bad you couldn’t have retrieved your rifle. You could have found out if it had been fired. Fortunately, the tale about the poacher was believed by all,” her father had pointed out. “There is a great deal at stake here if, as you suspect, Matthew did indeed see to Edmund’s demise,” he had added thoughtfully. “Matthew might not hesitate to harm you now that you are no longer under his control.” “I’ll be safe at Seaborne Manor.”
“Having you at the manor would indeed lighten my heart. I have been far too lonely since your blessed mother’s passing so many years ago and since your brother sailed for India. But it’s still not safe. I’m taking you to an old friend’s cottage instead.”
Her father had placed her chilled hands in his and rubbed them gently. “My dear, you must stay in Bath until it is decided what should be done. Matthew will never find you at Captain and Mrs. Cuthwell’s cottage.”
Though the following two weeks of confinement had moved at a snail’s pace, it had allowed her time to come to grips with her feeling about Edmund’s death. She knew she should feel guilty for not caring, but she still hadn’t shed a tear and there was no sorrow within her. Edmund had long since destroyed any emotion she might have harbored. For the first time in years, she was free to do whatever pleased her. And if there were tears to be shed, let them be for her and the sin against God she had committed…if she had committed the sin.
Despite her fears, later that morning Ann left Bath, time being her enemy. The Dolphin was due to sail in two days, but if she was fortunate, the pounding waves caused by the storm would delay the ship’s departure long enough for her to board.
Matthew flung his goblet in the blazing fireplace and curled his lip. Where was Antoinette Huntington? He knew for certain she had never arrived at Seaborne. So where had her father hidden her? He turned to warm his backside. The cold and miserable weather only served to fuel his temper.
What was it going to take to flush the duchess from her hiding place? He had put out word of money offered for her return, but nothing had come of it. Even the men he’d posted at each ship boarding in Bristol had turned up empty-handed. Somewhere, sometime she would have to emerge.
He had thought he had everything under control. He had been convinced that Ann’s fear and self-condemnation would prevent her from trying to leave. When she mingled with the guests who had arrived for the funeral, he had remained constantly by her side. But as his cousin was being placed in the ground, she had moved to her father’s side and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. He had seen her whisper something to the stately man and knew immediately that he had been tricked. Her apparent meekness as of late had been but a ruse to keep him from suspecting her intentions.
Matthew banged his fist against the thick rock wall. As the closest relative, he would now be the next duke of Gravenworth. if Ann wasn’t carrying Edmund’s seed. It was without question that she had informed her father of her condition, which meant that her uncle, the duke of Wilmington, was also aware of it. The duke had the queen’s ear. Matthew knew that should he make a move to claim the title, Ann’s uncle would be quick to inform Her Majesty of his niece’s condition. He had no desire to be sent to the guillotine.
Matthew scowled. He had to find Ann and proclaim himself father of the babe she carried. But even that seemed doomed. The duchess was still nowhere to be found!
The door to Matthew’s room flew open, startling him. “How dare you barge in here?” he thundered.
“Milord,” Thomas, the manservant, said hurriedly, “the kitchen has informed me that the duchess was just here and. she’s already left.”
“And no one stopped her?” Matthew hurried forward. “I’ll see that some heads roll! Get my coat.and my horse!” His heels clicked on the stone hallway as he hurried forth.
Thomas rushed after the taller man. “She took her dog and Hester with her,” he sputtered, already out of breath.
Inside the carriage, Antoinette clutched the leather coach strap, trying to maintain her seat. She was so tense her bones were aching. The black overcast skies, the flight for safety, the bumpy ride and the uncertainty of escape had taken its toll.
She released her hold and stretched her cramped fingers. She could barely see the pregnant maid who sat in the shadows on the far side of the seat Ann worried about the rough road causing Hester to lose her baby, but to slow the carriage would be disastrous.
Antoinette released a suppressed grunt. Had she remained at Gravenworth, it wouldn’t have taken long for Matthew to discover her claim of being with child had been nothing more than a means of keeping her husband from her bedchamber.
