Page 12 of Her Runaway Duke
“That is a beautiful gown,” the housekeeper said in an apparent attempt to restore their good humor.
“Thank you,” she replied softly. “I was supposed to be married in it.”
“Were you now?” That captured Mrs. Porter’s attention.
“I have a favour to ask,” Siena said in a rush. “It seems to me that this is a house of some secrecy, judging by your master’s inability to provide me with his name. Can I ask you to also keep a secret for me – the very fact that I am here? There are… circumstances that I have no wish to return to.”
“Of course,” Mrs. Porter said with that cheerful smile again. “We can keep a secret, can we not, Mary?”
“We most certainly can,” Mary said, standing when all seemed to be well.
“Good night, dear,” Mrs. Porter said as the two of them began backing out of the room. “We shall see you in the morning.”
And with that, she shut the door on Siena, along with any of her questions.
They would have to wait until later. For her exhaustion gave her no other option but to fall asleep.
Siena wokethe next morning with a strange feeling that something was amiss, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
Then she opened her eyes to the faded soft pink canopy floating around her head, and it all came rushing back. The wedding. Her escape. The highwaymen. Her rescue.
Now here she was, in a strange manor so close to London and yet so far at the same time.
Yet, somehow, despite the cold draftiness of her surroundings, she was comfortable here. Perhaps it was the knowledge that nothing was expected of her, that no one cared who she was or what she was to do with her life.
Perhaps it was the way the lord of the manor had saved her without expectation of anything in return and how the servants had welcomed her.
Whatever it was, she felt a good deal better about her decision now than she had when she had been lost in the woods, prepared to freeze to death.
A large crack rent the air, startling Siena, and after recovering from how high she jumped, she pulled the covers up to her chin in pretense of some kind of protection. It was then that she noticed the incessant splattering upon the window, and she slid her legs out of bed, pulling her wrapper tightly around herself as she walked toward the balcony, peeking out of the casement doors to see that a thunderstorm had gathered through the night. The darkclouds loomed ominously, casting a gloomy pall over the formerly serene countryside. Rain cascaded from the heavens, pounding against the windowpane with a rhythmic intensity that made Siena's heart quicken.
Mesmerized by the raw power of nature, she turned the latch of the casement doors and stepped outside, her bare feet slippery on the stone of the balcony. The overhang above her prevented her from becoming soaked, although the wind still pushed droplets of rain against her skin and whipped her hair backwards. The air was thick with the scent of wet earth andthe distant rumble of thunder rolled through her ears, sending shivers down her spine.
In the midst of the storm, flashes of lightning illuminated the sky and the rolling hills beyond the manor grounds. The lush green meadows and vibrant wildflowers seemed to dance under the duet of light and sound.
Siena's eyes traced the path of a lone droplet as it meandered down her windowpane, its journey mirroring her own. No longer was it carefully controlled, held in balance, but instead was making its own path in whatever way it wished to turn.
Her thoughts turned back to her predicament. She glanced over at the wardrobe to find her fine lilac gown hanging in front of it. It appeared to have been washed and pressed already, although she had no idea how anyone would have had time to do so unless they hadn't slept.
As she opened the wardrobe to find what else awaited her, a knock sounded on the door and Mary, the maid who had attended to her last night, awaited.
"Oh, my lady, the balcony!" she said, rushing across the room to close the doors.
“That would be my fault, Mary,” she said regretfully, noting the water that had splashed across the floor. “I couldn’t help myself from wanting to experience some of the storm.”
“It is a powerful one, ‘tis,” Mary said, turning and joining Siena at the wardrobe to help her dress for the day. “I suppose you will not be leaving this morning, then.”
“No, I do not suppose I will be,” Siena murmured as she lifted her arms for Mary to help her don her chemise and then lace her stays. “Is there breakfast prepared?”
“There is. The cook is happy to have another mouth to feed, my lady.”
“Wonderful. Thank you, Mary.”
Siena was filled with optimism as Mary led her to the breakfast room, hopeful to have the chance to properly thank her host. After sleeping well, she was feeling much better and ready to face the day and whatever came with it. A day without expectations, actually, which suited her quite well.
Only, her host never showed his face at breakfast.
“How are we this morning?” the housekeeper said, entering the room with a smile.
