“She could be with him,” Allan muttered darkly. If all of this was because of Wetherington’s threats, then it was possible Frederica had gone to him now. “I have to find him.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
Frederica peered beyond the carriage window, looking expectantly out at the house appearing in the distance. Her aunt’s cottage, covered in flowers, was near at last. It had been a long journey, and she had asked that they not stop for the night but just keep on going.
It was now the early hours of the second day, the light beyond the carriage windows grey, and the air cold. Despite the gloom, Frederica was filled with relief to be here.
As the carriage came to a stop, she opened the door before the footman could reach it. Clearly, she was not the only one awake at such an early hour.
The next second, a window in the house was thrust open. Honora pushed her head out through the gap. Her hair wasn’t yet in an updo, and she had a shawl wrapped around her shoulders.
“Frederica?” she called in shock. “Is that you?”
“It’s me.” Frederica called out. She wiped the tears from her cheeks, knowing they had nearly constantly streaked her skin since she had left Allan’s house. “Aunt, can I stay here for a while please?”
“Of course, you can!” The words burst out of Honora. “Come in, come in. I’ll be down soon.”
Frederica hurried forward to the house. She found the door open and burst inside. The familiar scents and the vase of flowers on a nearby sideboard were all warm and comforting. She entered the parlor and ran her hand along the back of the settee where she had so often sat in the year she had stayed here. She was still walking around the room, admiring it, indulging in memories and a feeling of being so far away in London, when Honora appeared at the door.
Her hair still wasn’t done for she had come down in such haste, but she had pulled on a gown rather haphazardly. The sleeves were a little loose, and she still held onto one shoe she hadn’t quite pulled onto her foot.
“Frederica?” Honora called to her. The moment Frederica looked at her, she felt something crack inside of her.
There was a painful mix of relief and pain. She longed to be with Allan, yet knew that the safest thing for him was to be so far away here with Honora. At once, Frederica burst into tears.
Honora ran forward, wrapping her up in her arms.
“Oh, Frederica, do not cry, sweetheart.”
Yet Frederica could not stop. One tear followed another with great haste. She found herself bundled onto the settee. Tea was hurriedly prepared, and Frederica struggled to hold onto a handkerchief, a slice of cake, and a cup of tea. She just stared at Honora, lost for what to do and what to say.
Honora took pity on her, taking the tea and cake out of her hands and placing them down on the table beside her.
“What has happened?” Honora asked.
“I — I had to leave. It was for the best.”
A hint of anger crossed Honora’s features, making her frown.
“The truth now, Frederica. No more hiding. What is it I do not know?”
Frederica sighed. For so long she had tried to keep things a secret. Now, what was the point? She had no intention of going back to London and putting Allan in danger, after all.
“He threatened to hurt Allan if I didn’t end the marriage.” The words were out of Frederica like a bottle suddenly uncorked. “First, he threatened Dorothy, now Allan. I… I don’t know what he’s capable of. I couldn’t risk him ending up hurt.”
“When you say you ended the marriage,” Honora grimaced, “did you ask for a divorce?”
“An annulment.” It was a confession of the truth that she and Allan had never consummated the marriage. An annulment could only be granted if they hadn’t consummated it. “He agreed,” Frederica said, her breath hitching.
“And all this pain,” Honora said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. “This pain is because you didn’t really want to let him go, did you?”
“I had no choice,” Frederica’s voice was firm as she batted away her tears. “What else could I do?”
“Well, we have all been known to do foolish things for love in our time, but running away from the love of your life is really quite something.”
“What?” Frederica halted, the handkerchief falling limp in her hands. “What did you say?”
“Running away —”
