A Reason to Rebel by Wendy Soliman

my discretion. You and I understand the ways of the world, I think. After all, you can hardly lay claim to being a skittish miss, not if half the things that posturing brute claimed are to be believed.”
    Estelle let out a gasp of betrayal. She had almost given in to his gallantry and shared her troubles with him. How could she have been such a simpleton? She should have known better than to imagine that he was really on her side. He now knew she had been married and intended to take shameful advantage of her.
    He was no different than Mr. Travis’s awful son, and others too, who had seen her married to a man so much older than herself and thought she would welcome their advances. By refusing her stepson’s overtures with contemptuous disregard for his pride, she had made an enemy of him, which was partly responsible for her current difficulties.
    And now history appeared to be repeating itself. She would not offer herself to Lord Crawley and would very soon find herself homeless again as a consequence.
    “Please leave,” she said.
    “I only wish to be of service to you.”
    Estelle could easily imagine the service he had in mind. “I do not require anyone’s assistance.”
    “Oh, but I think you do.” A flicker of understanding passed across his face and his expression hardened. “I cannot imagine what you think I have in mind but I suspect you have misinterpreted my intentions.” He threw her shawl on the bed and turned towards the door. “Winthrop was most interested to observe this garment in the drawing room,” he said, closing the door softly behind him.
    Estelle wanted to weep with frustration, even as she wondered why she was so disappointed to discover that Lord Crawley was no different than all the rest of his gender. Despite his pretence at an innocent reason for wishing to assist her, she knew better than to believe him. She had seen the look in his eye when he called her by her name, had seen the same hunger in the eyes of too many other men since the time of her marriage to mistake its meaning. She knew what he would expect in return for aiding her and, in spite of the fact that she had no one else to turn to, she was not prepared to oblige him. She had finally had enough of being exploited.
    Lady Crawley would most likely seek her out upon her return. The notion helped Estelle to banish her introspective thoughts. She hid her efforts at packing and reclined upon her bed, which is how that lady discovered her not half an hour later.
    “My dear, you look worn out. I am afraid you have overexerted yourself.”
    Estelle was overwhelmed, once again, by Lady Crawley’s concern for her welfare. It was clear that her son had not yet revealed her true identity—presumably because he was unaware of her return. Estelle could not but wonder how much distress she would be responsible for causing when it did become known. She stifled a sigh and would have given much to make it otherwise.
    “Yes.” Estelle sat up and managed a weak smile for her hostess’s benefit. “I fear your wonderful harp proved to be too much of a temptation and I played for longer than I ought. I completely lost track of time.”
    “Yes, my dear, Alex mentioned to me when I came in just now that your beautiful music has been filling the house for most of the afternoon.”
    “Oh, did Lord Crawley say that?”
    Estelle was now very confused. So he had spoken to his mother but had not chosen to mention Estelle’s deception. Why? Presumably to protect his mother’s finer feelings. Or did he hope that by remaining silent she would feel obliged to warm his bed through a sense of gratitude?
    “I have asked for tea to be sent up here,” said Lady Crawley. “We can be quite comfortable and you need not exert yourself. And then, my dear, I do think it would be advisable if you remained in your chamber this evening and recovered your strength.” She patted Estelle’s hand. “You are looking altogether too pale and I blame myself for