Page 4 of A Duke in Pursuit of Passion
It was typical that he would choose tonight of all nights to do so. And yet, the moment his bedroom door clicked shut, extinguishing the candlelight from view, Louisa slipped back out of her hiding place and continued down the hall.
Having made it to the servants’ stairs without too much trouble, she paused with her hands on the railing and looked both up and down, searching for any sign of light and listening for the sounds of footsteps coming either way.
There was nothing, and she could slip down the entire staircase in near silence, only the sound of her own breathing to suggest there was anything alive in the manor.
When she made it down to the kitchens, all appeared still and quiet. There was not a single flicker of a candle or even the smell of a fireplace to suggest that anyone had been down there recently. The quarters were cold, having been left by the servants hours ago after they had finished up the dinner service and gone to bed or wherever else servants went when they weren’t working.
Seeing that she had a clear path to the back door, Louisa hurried down the cold stone corridor, ignoring the shivering sensation running down her spine. Kicking off her good shoes, she stashed them in what little space remained in her bag and slung it back over her shoulder before slipping her feet back into the muddy shoes she had hidden behind the trunk seat.
With one last glance over her shoulder, keeping an eye out for even the faintest flicker of candlelight, Louisa grabbed the iron key from its hook beside the door and unlocked the exit. Locking it from the outside, she slipped the key back through the letterbox, hoping that nobody would find it until the next morning, and long after she was gone.
Finally, she was on her way up the mossy stone steps into the servants' yard and the gardens beyond. Rushing through the walled gardens and the rose gardens, through the smaller garden with a fountain at the middle, and several more after that, she eventually came to the end garden gate leading her through to the open fields at the bottom of the gardens, and beyond that the woods where she would meet her true love.
Though it was very early in the morning and nowhere near the sun rising, Louisa couldn’t help feeling as though a new dawn was coming, as though slipping through that gate had caused her to become reborn. And soon, when their plan was complete, she would be born a third time over into her final life, where she would live happily with the man who had given her all the love and affection in the world.
When she finally arrived at the boulder to find him waiting there for her, she could not stop smiling like a silly little girl. Joshua rose to greet her the very moment she stepped out from the woods. Taking her in his arms, he kissed her as though it had been days since they last had eyes upon each other.
Holding her face in his hands, he looked her deep in the eyes and smiled warmly. “I am so pleased that you made it.”
“Was there ever any doubt?” Louisa asked, pressing herself closer to him against the chill.
As though he sensed her shivering, he wrapped his cloak around her with his arm and guided her down the road. “Come, I have a carriage awaiting us just around the bend.”
The moment Louisa saw it with its door hanging open, awaiting their arrival, she could not help thinking of what came next. Clambering up into the carriage, she thought of just how wonderful it was all going to be. Soon she would be married to the most wonderful man in the world.
As if he shared similar feelings, Joshua dropped onto the bench beside her and gripped her face to pull her around to kiss him once more. Then, just like that, the carriage door was closed behind them, leaving Louisa with no escape. Not that she would ever wish to.
She was well on her way to getting all she had ever wanted. She was giddy with the thought of it, and there was only one thing that could temper her excitement: the fact that she could not stop thinking,will my family ever forgive me?
Chapter 4
In the sun-bleached courtyard of a London townhouse, Nathaniel Rolfe, son to the Duke of Worthington, was busy fencing with his closest friend. Their movements were playful, batting at each other in no real danger of any harm, while Arnold Weatherby regaled Nathaniel with the tales of his latest exploits.
“And what will you do if this general learns what you have been doing with his wife?” Nathaniel asked his friend, swatting him on the upper arm with the side of his blunted blade, just enough to leave a slight bruise.
“I shall play the fool and insist I had no idea she was married,” Arnold responded, batting Nathaniel’s sword away and quickly changing stance to try and best him.
Both he and Nathaniel were well aware he did not have a cat in hell’s chance, but the duke’s son was more than willing to allow his friend the fantasy. For several swings, he allowed Arnold to gain some ground.
“Then did you intend to marry her yourself?” Nathaniel asked jokingly, smirking at his friend.
They parried back and forth several times before Arnold rolled his eyes. “You know very well how it is, My Lord. It is all fun and games until a young lady takes things too far. Married women are always the safer bet.”
Nathaniel scoffed at his friend’s words, knowing that he would have agreed with him one day not so long ago. Though he could still clearly see the ideology behind it, he had grown since then.
Having had enough of giving his friend the slight upper hand, Nathaniel beat him back, almost shoving his friend over a nearby planter. Catching him by the forearm just moments before he began to fall, Nathaniel lowered his sword and suggested, “Perhaps we should take a break?”
“If you say so, My Lord.” Arnold chuckled, giving Nathaniel one more whip against his hip with his blade.
Laughing together, the two friends crossed the courtyard to where a table had been set up with towels, jugs of water and wine, and bowls of fruit and cheese.
Picking up the water jug, Nathaniel leaned forward and splashed a little over the back of his head to cool down before swigging some down. Then he offered it to Arnold, even though he already knew well what the answer would be.
“Don’t be trying to give me any of that swill!” Arnold laughed and batted the jug away, reaching instead for the wine, popping a grape into his mouth as he did so.
Grabbing a towel from the top of the pile, Nathaniel wiped away the sweat and water that gathered upon his brow and ruffled his hair to dry it a little.
“You know, you have yet to tell me of your own affairs of late,” Arnold pointed out after having taken a deep drink of the red wine.
