Page 63 of If the Slipper Fits
It couldn’t be helped.
She squared her shoulders and, not sparing another glance for Caden, made for the antechamber door. Every step she took felt like losing a piece of herself—even knowing the truth. He saw her as beneath him, just as her mother always warned.
His words echoed in her head.I misjudged you completely…if Zeke and Claybourne could see me now.Her heart burned like she’d swallowed live coal.
“Wait.” Caden, who’d stood silent and motionless, now caught her in two ground-eating strides. His warm palm closed around her elbow in a gentle, firm grip.
“Please, Glory,” he said in an achingly tender tone that tore at her insides. “Don’t leave like this. Not before we clear the air. I was caught off guard. Can’t you understand? One moment you’re in my arms, the next you’re married to the devil incarnate. I thought…”
She turned to face him, eyes stinging. Not that she was crying, for the love of the saints.
Looking into his beautiful eyes, her shield of anger vanished, leaving her bared and raw. “I know what you thought, Caden. You thought to entertain yourself with the help, and rekindle an old friendship while you were at it. Maybe toss some coin my way to help you feel better about my bad end.”
His face paled. “No. It wasn’t like that. I swear on everything I hold dear.”
She cupped his cheeks with shaking hands. Thoughts raced through her mind, things she wished she could say to him. In the end, there was no time and even less point.
“Goodbye, Caden.” With that, she turned and fled.
“Anna, wait,” he hissed from the doorway.
She spared one last look as she charged down the corridor—and nearly collided with Mr. Randall. Only his outstretched arms averted disaster.
Grasping her shoulders, he studied her with grave concern. “I beg your pardon, is it…Mrs. Jones? It is you. Are you quite all right?”
Mortified, she twisted free and raced on.
Caden’s voice sounded behind her, entirely too close for comfort. “Harrison, what the devil are you doing? Get out of my way, man. What are you—let me go.”
“Listen, man, there’s something I need to tell you that can’t wait.”
Swallowing a sob, she raced on.
Chapter Fourteen
Pressing at a stitch in her side, Anna jogged through the dimly lit, blessedly unoccupied corridors leading to Lady Wentworth’s chambers.
The enormity of what lay ahead penetrated her very bones. She reminded herself she’d managed to flee with little more than the clothes on her back—and her mother’s ruby—once before.
On the plus side, she wasn’t leaving a dead body in her wake. Not that Bolton had actuallybeendead.
Bolton, alive. She reviled the man for what he tried to do. Even so, she had never come to terms with having killed him, even in self-defense.
How unfortunate she had no time to enjoy the freedom from her ever-present guilt, nor any time to contemplate Caden, and what he must think of her.
Whathethought? Bah. What about the awful things he’d said?Can you really blame him?an irritating inner voicedemanded.
No. Definitely no time for mulling over what transpired with Caden. She must focus on survival. Her life hinged on a razor’s edge. If Angelique and Bolton got their hands on her, she’d exchange one death sentence for another.
Get the deed done, Bolton. I don’t care what you do with her afterwards. Toss her in the Thames for all I care. Do it and we’re home free.Angelique’s words before she stormed out left little doubt of the pair’s intentions regarding Anna.
Shivering, she entered the dark antechamber. She turned up one of the low-burning oil lamps and glanced around the shadowed room. What to bring? Her servants clothes, of course. A night shift? What of her tinctures and oils?
The Antechamber door creaked and swung open wide. Lady Wentworth crossed the threshold.
Anna blurted the first thing that came to her mind. “I…I have to go.” Her eyes stung. The thought of leaving this irascible woman who, against all odds, had become synonymous with home, threatened to break her like nothing else tonight had.
“I know.”
