Page 20 of From Unwanted to Duchess
What felt like an eternity later, the carriage finally lurched into motion, and they moved away from the theatre.
Frances sat quietly while Aunt Eugenia and the Duke conversed about the play and the various people they had seen that evening. Her eyes felt heavy, and she let her head rest against the side of the carriage, almost drifting off to sleep, when suddenly the carriage stopped abruptly, and she was thrown forward.
She nearly landed in the Duke’s lap.
He quickly steadied her, his arm wrapping around her shoulders, his hand gripping her arm. The sensation was most unexpected, and she stared at him for a second before sitting back properly.
“Goodness, what was that?” Aunt Eugenia gasped. She had had the foresight to hold onto the handlebar affixed to the side of the carriage.
“I do not know,” the Duke said, opening the door to peer out. “I will be right back.”
Frances craned her neck, curious as to what was happening. From her vantage point, she could see that several carriages hadstopped ahead of them, and several more behind. The road was utterly congested, but she couldn’t tell why.
The Duke was now walking between the carriages to see what was causing the delay.
“I want to follow him. I want to see what’s happening.”
“I do not know if that is a good idea,” Aunt Eugenia cautioned. “There has been some unrest?—”
“I know, but we will not be going far.”
“Very well,” Aunt Eugenia sighed.
Frances climbed out of the carriage and hurried after the Duke. “Your Grace!” she called.
He stopped and turned back, his eyebrows rising as he saw her running toward him. She had picked up the hem of her skirt, and her shoes were clicking on the cobblestones.
“You should not be out here. Get back to the carriage,” he ordered.
Instantly, her hackles rose.
Top-lofty man!
Nobody was going to tell her what to do, and most certainly not him.
“I assure you, I am perfectly capable of walking on the street.”
“That is not what I meant.” He took her arm, put his hand on the small of her back, and turned her in the same direction he had been looking in.
The feel of his hand on her back sent pleasant tingles across her skin. However, she had no time to contemplate what that might mean because right then, she saw what he had been pointing at.
Up ahead, two streets over, was a crowd of people—dozens at least, many of them carrying torches. They were moving in their direction, their voices carrying in the night air.
“Who are they?” she whispered.
He grimaced. “People protesting against the Corn Laws. They’re blocking the way home. We cannot go in that direction. The authorities will be out as well. Let us get back to the carriage. We will have to go another way.”
Frances turned around, suddenly fearful. The people coming ahead sounded angry, their voices raised in chants she couldn’t quite make out. The torches looked menacing in the dark of night.
She walked quickly with him back toward the carriage, but more people were emerging from the side streets now, surrounding the line of vehicles.
Suddenly, heavy footfalls sounded behind them, and she saw that some of the rioters were running.
“Mercy!” she gasped.
The Duke grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her along. The two of them ran toward her aunt’s carriage, but it was nowhere in sight.
“Confound it!” he muttered.
