She stumbled away, now so frightened that she couldn’t summon any more words. She turned and sprinted down the path, heading back toward the carriage. Bursting out of the gate, she hastened to the carriage where Trevor was waiting for her, standing in the rain. He had the door open for her within a second.
“My Lady—” Yet any enquiry of concern he may have tried to make was silenced by Lord Wetherington’s appearance.
“Time to go,” Frederica called to the driver and Trevor, who both nodded.
“Frederica!” Lord Wetherington hissed. He reached the carriage door shortly after Trevor had flung it shut. He tried his best to open it again, but the carriage was now pulling forward.
“Faster,” Trevor yelled at the driver who flicked the reins harder.
“You will pay for this,” Lord Wetherington called, now running alongside the carriage in order to keep up with it, but he was falling behind in the rain. “Your husband will not live long if this is how you treat me!”
Thunder rolled at the same time as his words. Frederica flattened herself to the carriage bench, uncertain she had heard him right because of that thunder. It was possible that Trevor and the driver may have heard it too.
Wishing to believe it had been in her imagination and that he hadn’t threatened Allan’s life, she buried her face in her hands.
This was not how it was supposed to go. I wanted to be free of him today.
Yet she had made it worse. As the carriage raced on at a quick pace through the wet streets of London, she knew something with complete conviction.
In her mind’s eyes, she saw the kiss she and Alan shared, and she saw the way he had caught her the first night they had met again. How he had protected her, how he had made his vows to her in church, and how he had kissed her hand.
“I can’t let anything happen to him,” she said aloud, the misery overtaking her. She had to protect him, even if that meant sacrificing herself.
* * *
Allan sat in the darkness in the parlor, drinking heavily though he knew it was unwise. The carafe was open next to him, the brandy glass spent from the three brandies he had already downed. His tailcoat was slung somewhere in the room along with his cravat that he had torn off after the dinner that Frederica did not arrive in time for.
He stared through the open doorway of the parlor toward the entrance hall, knowing that when Frederica returned, he would be the one to greet her. He had rather eagerly asked the butler and housekeeper to retire for the night as he did not need an audience for this next part.
Eventually, after he had poured his fourth glass of brandy, he heard the carriage return. Horses neighed, clearly unhappy to have worked for so long through such humid and wet conditions. The driver and footman called to one another as they took the carriage back to the stables then at last, there was a click at the door.
Frederica put her key in the lock and turned it, entering the house.
From his position, Allan cocked his head, watching her. She was sodden to the bone, her gown so drenched it was as if she had fallen in water because of the rain. She sighed as she stood in the hallway, unaware he was watching her.
Abruptly, he turned in his seat and took hold of a tinder box, lighting the candle beside him. The sound alerted her to his presence, and she turned to face him, her eyes wide as if she was a deer standing at the end of musket fire.
“Allan?”
“You’ve been gone for hours. Do you know, I really was thinking you weren’t going to come home again.”
“The ride was long. The rain didn’t help.” She gestured to the window as she walked into the room. Her attempt at nonchalance failed miserably.
Slowly, he shook his head, and she let her hand fall at her side.
“Are you having an affair?” he asked, thinking of the letter that had arrived.
“No!” she said sharply at once, such pain in her face that he nodded. She was not lying. He could tell.
“Thank God,” he said, reaching for his glass and taking another sip.
“How many of these have you had?” she asked, turning to take hold of the carafe.
“A fair few,” he answered, brushing aside her concern. “I needed something soothing for the soul.”
She sighed, gripping the carafe tight and closing her eyes.
“I’m causing you such pain.”
