Page 53 of A Lady's Beastly Duke
Anastasia took a deep breath. “I am doing this because I have no other choice, Lily,” she said softly.
“You do. Your gallant suitor.” Lily’s gentle young face was filled with trust and hope.
“No.” Anastasia’s voice choked. “No.” She struggled not to cry. She could not do that. Even if the duke were to help, what could he do? Ridley would challenge him and then he might die. She did not want to be responsible for anyone’s death. Her father had already made up his mind and there was no defying him. It was Ridley or escape. Those were the only options. If she thought of the duke now, she would not be able to do as she must.
“Yes. He would help you,” Lily insisted.
Anastasia shook her head. Camilla had said the same, only a few hours ago. She could not let herself think of the duke.
“I have made my decision,” she said gently. “Lily, you cannot come with me. I cannot let my pain be yours.”
“It is anyway,” Lily insisted.
Anastasia let out a deep breath. She reached for her sister,clinging tightly to her. “I love you, sweet Lily.”
Tears coursed down her cheeks as she held her sister’s soft, gentle form against her. Lily was clinging to her, and she knew that if she stayed here, safe in the circle of her sister’s familiar embrace, she could not leave. She tensed and stepped back.
“I must dress,” she told Lily gently. “Please, sister. I have to do this. I will be safe. Mr. Jackson will drive me to the mail-coach. He has promised to help me.” She had asked Rachel to lend her a gown, and she had asked Mr. Jackson, the coach-driver, to take her as far as the coach. The two staff members were loyal, and she knew they would help her.
“I know, Anny,” Lily said softly. “But...but...it’s still so dangerous.” She blinked and Anastasia could see tears in her eyes.
“I will be safe,” Anastasia insisted.
Lily gazed at her and then ran to her, hugging her again. Anastasia clung to her, and she had to fight the urge to stay, to remain with her loved ones even if it was only for a little longer.
“I will write,” Anastasia promised. She would have to. She would remain in contact with Lily and perhaps in time her family would forgive her. Papa might never forgive the disgrace, but that was something she was prepared to face. Her life and liberty had immeasurable worth to her, and her father’s opinion did not have enough worth for her to risk either of those things.
“Write often,” Lily demanded. She was crying noisily now, and she hiccupped, trying to hold back her tears. “I will miss you,sister.”
Anastasia nodded. “I will see you again,” she promised.
She turned around as Lily rushed through the door of the room. Anastasia sobbed, then stiffened. She had only a few minutes to make an escape.
She reached for the rough-woven gown. It was made of wool, and she shrugged it on over her shift, surprised by the weight of it. Her own gowns were much lighter fabric.
She hastily tugged on her walking shoes—thin leather boots that came to just above her ankles and were tied with laces—and lifted her valise. She had packed just two gowns and two shifts, a nightgown, and a pair of indoor shoes. Anything else would be too cumbersome.
Blinking to clear her eyes of tears, she hurried from the room.
The hallway was silent, and dark, as she expected. The butler had retired to his rooms an hour before, and the lamps and candles were all unlit. She found her way to the staircase by memory. Her eyes gradually accustomed, so that when she found the entrance door and pushed at it, she could see the sapphire glow that came from the windows.
The cold in the street hit her like a blow. She drew in a breath. The breeze was chilly, but she had a shawl with her, and she clutched it tight around her shoulders. Her heart thudded. Even in this quiet area of London, the streets were not safe at night. She glanced down the street, the sound of her own blood thundering in her ears. She could see nobody. A pine torchflickered brightly against a wall somewhere—one of the houses in the street must have held a party or ball and had lit the way for guests. She drew a breath, half-expecting someone to spot her, then ran.
The coach house was around the back of the townhouse, and she hurried there, heart thudding in her chest.
“All is in order, my lady.”
Mr. Jackson made her freeze to the spot in fright as he spoke. Anastasia gasped, then shook her head at herself.
“Good. Thank you.”
“We must hurry. The mail coach will depart from Gerrard Street at one o’ clock.”
“We must hurry,” Anastasia agreed. She stepped into the coach as he opened the door, the black coach-horses snorting as she walked past. They must have wondered as to why they were being brought out to work so late. She swung into the coach and shut the door behind her. She was on her way.
Mr. Jackson swung into his seat on the top, and then they rattled out of the coach house and into the street. He jumped down to shut the gate, and then they were off. The coach moved slowly, so as not to attract unnecessary attention from any watchmen—though nobody could say anything about a noble using their own coach, whatever the hour. They rattled down the street towards Bond Street. There, they would cross town until they reached Gerrard Street. It was a distance of only a mile, just a few minutes in the coach. Anastasia gripped her valise,her heart twisting as they moved slowly past the familiar things around her. There was the building on the end of their street, with its curious crenelations. There was the big tree near where she and Camilla often met to walk together. The coachman stopped, wrenching the horses back in such a swift motion that Anastasia screamed as she plunged forward off the seat. Her valise tumbled to the floor, and she dragged herself upright into the seat again, tucking her hair back from her face.
“What in Perdition...?” she began in shock. But she had only just managed to get back onto the seat when the door flew open.
