leave
your side that night. But I suspect it might end up torn within minutes.”
There is a thought . Bastian would indeed
tear it off. ’ Twould be a waste of something so beautiful and delicate. But Lord, to see his face
when he saw the black silk and lace chemise. Her bust would surely be on
display for him to torment. Nevertheless, she would enjoy every dashing moment.
“I suppose I shall take that as well. I cannot imagine the garment will remain
on for very long, but it is a stunning piece, Mrs. Hedley.”
The girls now
moved about the store, picking up fabrics and holding them against their
feminine curves. Clearly, they needed time to shop around.
“Mrs. Hedley, I
will indeed take all the recommended items. If you could let the girls know
that I will be just outside? I have need for air.”
“Certainly, my
lady.”
Cordelia opened
the door, and once she felt the breeze hit her face, she exhaled. The trip had
been lovely, yet she could not help but feel trapped. All the attention, the
trying on of countless gowns, was overwhelming.
In her time away
from London, she had learned to do without and appreciate the humility of being
reduced to a peasant. Her life had been simple, almost easier, and she had a
finer admiration for those who worked back-breaking chores. Peddling their
wares for survival. The lack of frivolity in such an environment made her
humble.
As she was deep in
thought, dozens of people walked past her, ignoring who she was. Others
whispered, but she cared not what they dared to talk about. Yes, I am the widow of the former duke—the
one who had an affair, got pregnant, and then was exiled into the country to
have the child. Only to have a terrible accident, and be assumed dead.
How could no one have thought to look further? They had simply given up. Even Bastian had never explained why he
did not come in search for her. Her anger began to return when high-pitched
screeching captured her attention.
She turned to see
a familiar woman running toward her. Mary
Elizabeth . The scorned trollop was armed with potatoes and other wares from
the market. She began hurling obscenities and objects at Cordelia. A potato hit
her in the head.
Horrified and
stunned, Cordelia ran off, not paying attention to the direction she was
headed. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She needed help, yet no one stopped the
angry woman, who now fully chased her into a steady stream of carriages.
Tripping in a
puddle, Cordelia landed face first into the street. Hoping to die an
instantaneous death. This could not be
more embarrassing . Shaking violently, she attempted to get up, but every
time she did, water from another puddle sprayed into her face.
Where is Bastian? I need my son.
A carriage finally
stopped and thick, but gentle hands helped her up. Cordelia sobbed into the
strangers arms. Slightly pushing her back, he tipped her chin up. Relief washed
over to recognize the friendly face of the Marquess of Stoughton.
“There, there, my
dear. Let me help you in, and we shall retrieve the ladies. Once we return to
Stoughton Hall, I shall have my servants collect your son. I think you shall be
safer with us, until Bastian finds a way to deal with that woman.”
“Thank you, my
lord. I cannot thank you enough.”
“Do not give it
another thought. We are all here to help you.”
Help, a novel concept .
* * * *
“I hardly have
words to express my anger at this moment, Nathaniel.”
“I can understand,
however, do not digress here. That woman needs to be dealt with. She is not
right in the head. She needs to be imprisoned, and that is final. I cannot
express enough that your soon to be wife and son will not be safe if Mary
Elizabeth continues to walk the streets. I implore you…”
Ridden with guilt,
Bastian could not help but wonder what would have happened if Nathaniel had not
found her in time. To what extent would Mary Elizabeth go, to prove that they
should be together? The woman was clearly mad,
your side that night. But I suspect it might end up torn within minutes.”
There is a thought . Bastian would indeed
tear it off. ’ Twould be a waste of something so beautiful and delicate. But Lord, to see his face
when he saw the black silk and lace chemise. Her bust would surely be on
display for him to torment. Nevertheless, she would enjoy every dashing moment.
“I suppose I shall take that as well. I cannot imagine the garment will remain
on for very long, but it is a stunning piece, Mrs. Hedley.”
The girls now
moved about the store, picking up fabrics and holding them against their
feminine curves. Clearly, they needed time to shop around.
“Mrs. Hedley, I
will indeed take all the recommended items. If you could let the girls know
that I will be just outside? I have need for air.”
“Certainly, my
lady.”
Cordelia opened
the door, and once she felt the breeze hit her face, she exhaled. The trip had
been lovely, yet she could not help but feel trapped. All the attention, the
trying on of countless gowns, was overwhelming.
In her time away
from London, she had learned to do without and appreciate the humility of being
reduced to a peasant. Her life had been simple, almost easier, and she had a
finer admiration for those who worked back-breaking chores. Peddling their
wares for survival. The lack of frivolity in such an environment made her
humble.
As she was deep in
thought, dozens of people walked past her, ignoring who she was. Others
whispered, but she cared not what they dared to talk about. Yes, I am the widow of the former duke—the
one who had an affair, got pregnant, and then was exiled into the country to
have the child. Only to have a terrible accident, and be assumed dead.
How could no one have thought to look further? They had simply given up. Even Bastian had never explained why he
did not come in search for her. Her anger began to return when high-pitched
screeching captured her attention.
She turned to see
a familiar woman running toward her. Mary
Elizabeth . The scorned trollop was armed with potatoes and other wares from
the market. She began hurling obscenities and objects at Cordelia. A potato hit
her in the head.
Horrified and
stunned, Cordelia ran off, not paying attention to the direction she was
headed. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She needed help, yet no one stopped the
angry woman, who now fully chased her into a steady stream of carriages.
Tripping in a
puddle, Cordelia landed face first into the street. Hoping to die an
instantaneous death. This could not be
more embarrassing . Shaking violently, she attempted to get up, but every
time she did, water from another puddle sprayed into her face.
Where is Bastian? I need my son.
A carriage finally
stopped and thick, but gentle hands helped her up. Cordelia sobbed into the
strangers arms. Slightly pushing her back, he tipped her chin up. Relief washed
over to recognize the friendly face of the Marquess of Stoughton.
“There, there, my
dear. Let me help you in, and we shall retrieve the ladies. Once we return to
Stoughton Hall, I shall have my servants collect your son. I think you shall be
safer with us, until Bastian finds a way to deal with that woman.”
“Thank you, my
lord. I cannot thank you enough.”
“Do not give it
another thought. We are all here to help you.”
Help, a novel concept .
* * * *
“I hardly have
words to express my anger at this moment, Nathaniel.”
“I can understand,
however, do not digress here. That woman needs to be dealt with. She is not
right in the head. She needs to be imprisoned, and that is final. I cannot
express enough that your soon to be wife and son will not be safe if Mary
Elizabeth continues to walk the streets. I implore you…”
Ridden with guilt,
Bastian could not help but wonder what would have happened if Nathaniel had not
found her in time. To what extent would Mary Elizabeth go, to prove that they
should be together? The woman was clearly mad,
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