Page 83 of Enslaved to the Seduction of a Lady
Chapter Thirty
Alison laid on her bed, sobbing. She had refused to eat the night before, and she still refused to eat that morning. She refused, even to get washed or dressed. Instead, she wallowed in her bedsheet and her nightgown, unable to stop the tears from flowing. Luke had been sent away, and it was breaking her inside.
The knock at the door was so gentle that she wasn’t entirely sure she heard it, but when it came again, she called out.
“I don’t wish to see anyone. I am unwell.”
Unwellwas not strictly true, although she had been driven to her bed by despair. Alison was distraught by what had happened the day before. The previous afternoon, she had been in her room writing a letter when her mother came flying in, a smug look upon her face.
“It was your precious groom,” she had said without the slightest encouragement.
“What was?” Alison asked, but she had known deep down what her mother was referring to.
“It was him who stole your father’s letter opener. Him or that sister of his.”
“I don’t believe you,” Alison had said.
“It was found in his lodgings, Alison,” the Duchess had said.
“Let me talk to him. He will tell me the truth, I am certain of it. There must be some other explanation.”
“It’s too late.”
“Too late?” Alison asked, hearing the crack in her own voice.
“Your father sent them away and good riddance.”
Alison let out an uncontrollable sob and her mother put a comforting arm around her.
“Now, now,” she said. “I know it hurts, but this really is for the best. Now you can focus on your upcoming marriage and forget about this silly infatuation.”
The knocking came again, pulling her out of her memory. It was a gentle knocking, soft and tender, but it was insistent.
“Mother, I do not wish to see anyone,” Alison cried yet again. “Please leave me be, for now at least. I need some time.” But then she heard the handle turning and she groaned, burying her face in the pillow.
“Alison, it’s me.”
Teresa.
Alison was pleased that her mother was respecting her wishes, and although she had no desire to speak to anyone but Luke, she knew, at least, that Teresa was on her side.
Teresa closed the door quietly and tiptoed over to Alison’s bed. Alison turned just enough to see Teresa out of one wary eye.
“You were not due to visit today,” she said, her voice muffled by the pillow.
“No, I wasn’t,” Teresa said, reaching out and stroking Alison’s blonde hair. “But Mother sent for me. Said you’re in an awful way, and I can see she was right.”
Alison buried her face into the pillow again.
“No thanks to her and Father,” Alison muttered. “They don’t care a single jot about me.”
“Come now, Darling Sister,” Teresa said, tucking the loose hair behind Alison’s ear. “You know that’s not true. They may not show it in the greatest of ways, but they only want the best for you.”
Alison squirmed around until she was on her back again. The skin on her cheeks felt tight against her flesh, thanks to all her crying, and she could feel her hair was a matted, knotted mess. She took a deep quivering breath, but she managed to stay the tears for the moment.
“He’s gone,” Alison said. “Father sent him away, and I don’t know what to do about it.”
“I know,” Teresa said. “Mother told me all about it.”
