“My apologies, but this carriage is for Lady Padleigh only,” he said, stepping in Lord Wetherington’s way. “Goodnight.” He jumped onto the back of the carriage, and the driver flicked the reins. At once, the carriage leapt forward, leaving Frederica to peer out of the window to where Lord Wetherington stood watching her go.
Hot tears filled her eyes and streamed down her cheeks.
“I’m such a fool,” she muttered aloud, throwing herself back onto the cushioned seat. “How could I think they’d change? How could I think they would apologize to me?”
More than anything, she had learned something tonight. She was not worthy of an apology, just as she was not worthy of happiness.
“I am worth nothing.”
* * *
Allan looked over the notes he and his steward had made for changing some of the grounds. He was so focused on his work that it had managed to distract him of thoughts of Frederica for a little while though he couldn’t deny she was always at the forefront of his mind.
Every now and then, he looked at the clock, trying to make a guess at when she would return from her dinner with her parents. What shocked him most of all was when he heard a carriage scarcely an hour after she had left.
“What the…?” Allan muttered to himself. He grabbed the nearest candle and hastened to the window, peering out to see it was indeed Frederica’s carriage.
She didn’t wait for the footman to open the door but practically fell out of the carriage. She was crying heavily, trying to dry the tears from her cheeks with the backs of her hands.
Allan took off at a run, leaving his candle behind. He shot through the dark corridor, reaching the front door in seconds and flinging it wide.
Frederica was so busy attempting to dry her tears, she hadn’t yet noticed his appearance. She moved toward the house, looking quite lost, unable to watch what her feet were doing. On the top step, she missed her footing and nearly fell.
Allan reached out and grabbed her hand, steadying her as swiftly as he could. She looked up, her eyes finding his. They were red and puffy, and her lips were parted in surprise.
“Freddie?” he whispered. It was the first time in days he had used that name.
Her crying came harder. She moved inside the house, and he helped her, taking her away from the darkness outside.
Rather than take her into the parlor, his study, or any other room where they could be found, he led her up the stairs toward her chamber.
“What is it? What has happened?” he pleaded, steering her across the corridor.
“You knew, didn’t you?” she asked.
“Knew what?” He opened her chamber door, leading her inside.
“You knew they were not going to apologize to me. When they spoke of amends, it was nothing so benevolent as that.”
He didn’t answer. It had been his suspicion when he read that letter. He had not wanted to stifle Frederica’s hope, but in Allan’s experience, people didn’t change much. He highly doubted one sharp conversation from him would overhaul Lord and Lady Campbell’s attitudes which had consumed them for a lifetime.
“Rest yourself,” he pleaded, urging her to sit in a chair in the room. He hurried around her, lighting candles from a tinder box, and calling for a maid, asking her to bring tea.
“Not tea,” Frederica said from her seat.
“Brandy?” he offered instead to which she nodded. Brandy was quickly procured and offered to her. Once the maid had left, Allan dragged forward a footstool and sat before Frederica, keen to be close to her but not so close that she would retreat from him again. “What happened?” he asked softly, presenting her with his handkerchief, so she could dry her tears properly.
“He was there,” she whispered.
Allan sat straight. He didn’t need to ask who. Judging by Frederica’s obvious pain, he could take a good guess.
“The man who tried to force himself,” he muttered darkly. She nodded. “God’s death.” He jumped to his feet so restless that he couldn’t possibly be still.
He had a good mind to go to Lord Campbell’s house at once and demand to know what he was thinking. Maybe this man would even be there now. If he was, Allan might well attack him for what he’d done to Frederica.
“Wait… were they waiting for him to make amends to you?” Allan asked, turning to face her. When her breathing heaved, he had his answer. “They wanted you to apologize tohim?”
“Yes.”
