Page 81 of Project Duke

His family.

And he would destroy his own happiness to protect them.

29

Early Wednesday morning, Calliope sat on a small settee in the Howitts’ sitting room, drumming her fingers against the windowsill and watching the village through the slightly imperfect glass. Tiny bubbles and subtle ripples in the pane distorted the view, giving the outside world a dreamlike quality.

Beyond the window, Kelford village looked idyllic with the soft glow of morning light. Women in bonnets chatted by the communal well, drawing water in wooden buckets. Children ran about, playing with hoops and sticks, their laughter echoing through the streets. A few men tipped their hats in greeting as they headed to their work, some leading horse-drawn carts filled with produce or goods for the market.

Every so often, a horse’s hoofbeats would break the steady hum of village chatter, and a rider or carriage would pass.

She hated how much she loved it. This may be her home in one year, the village she’d come to visit as the Duchess of Kelford who lived in Kelford Manor nearby. And she craved coming here with Nathaniel.

Last night was horrible. Not because of the bed or the room or anything in the house. But because every fear she had about her and Nathaniel’s relationship had come true.

And she felt rejected. Set aside. Controlled.

Imprisoned by the man she loved.

And so, so alone.

She still felt tired and nauseated; she couldn’t eat much except for Mrs. Howitt’s pickled walnuts, which settled her stomach.

“May I bring you something else, Your Grace?” Mrs. Howitt asked with a kind smile.

Calliope returned her smile. “No. I’m quite all right, thank you, Mrs. Howitt.”

“Very well. If I may inquire…you seem upset… Whatever happened, I know my master. He’s always been a kind soul. After his mama died…he was never the same. Neither was his papa.”

Calliope nodded, unsure how to respond. What was she supposed to do? Sit here every day, watching the village, the people, while she slowly died inside?

No. That was not who she was. She’d let Nathaniel bring her here, which was a mistake. She would show him that this was not the life she wanted with him. He was hiding behind fear—and, whatever their agreement, she was not just a womb. She wouldn’t let him lock her up like this.

She would know how to keep the baby safe. And besides, there may not even be a baby yet; it was too early to tell.

She stood up, an idea making her straighten her shoulders and keep her head high. “I’d like a walk,” she said. “A bit of fresh air would suit me well.”

“That sounds like a marvelous idea,” said Mrs. Howitt. “There’s a ribbon and fabrics shop on the market square. Perhaps a new shawl would cheer you up?”

Calliope nodded. “Yes, precisely. Thank you! I’ll go up and get my money purse.”

“Very well. I’ll tell Abigail to accompany you.”

“Please do.”

Abigail was a good sport. She wouldn’t mind Calliope’s plan. Calliope went up to the room that had been provided for her and took her money purse as well as all her jewelry. She thought she’d need as much as she could take for what she had in mind.

As she and Abigail strolled through the village streets, Calliope asked a woman to direct her to a farmer who bred horses.

They walked for about ten minutes and reached a farm at the edge of the village. There, two men, one in his forties and one around twenty, forked hay from a cart to a large haystack. Calliope introduced herself as their new duchess.

“Would your son like a trip to London?” she asked. He looked like he was a strong young man, and she had her pistols with her. And if they left now, they wouldn’t need to travel after dark.

“I’ll pay for his time, of course,” she said.

The younger man looked up at her with great hope in his eyes. “I would, Your Grace.”

“My lady, what are you doing?” asked Abigail quietly.