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Caroline Dunn’s father, Lord Edgerton, was as cruel and despotic a man as Caroline had ever known to exist. While she couldn’t remember the early years of her life, she was told once by her mother that for a time there, her father was in fact loving and kind and generous. That she had in fact loved him when they married because he was a different man to the one whom Caroline knew. But that seemed almost irrelevant, really.

Caroline grew up in a house of horror, a constant state of fear, a world in which she truly feared that any day might be her last. Having fallen into extreme debt even before Caroline was born, her father took up drinking as a means to soften the burden and embarrassment of what he had become. The constant nights of drinking changed him, making him petty and abusive and cruel, traits he would demonstrate by abusing Caroline and her mother.

It became worse the older Caroline got. It became more dangerous. It became so bad that two years ago, on a night that was ordinary compared to some, Caroline bore witness to her father murdering her mother right before her eyes. An accident, he had claimed in a drunken stupor, she had made him do it—he had pushed her hard, she had tripped, her head had smashed into the side of a table, and that was where her mother lay. Dead.

It was a scene that still lived in Caroline’s nightmares, and she had known that if she stayed under that roof any longer, she might be next.

So, she fled. She ran away. She determined to leave her old life behind, knowing that if her father ever found her, for the fear that his secret might get out, he would likely do to her what he did to her mother.

Sitting in the back of that carriage, still weeping for the agony and pain that radiated over her entire being, Caroline wondered if she should have told His Grace this when he had asked. Surely, if he knew the truth…

No. The truth? It was laughable to think he would believe her. What was more, she feared her father so much that she worried what he might do if he found out where she was. Esther. Isabella. His Grace. They were in danger so long as she was around them, and this running was her only option.

None of this made her feel better, of course. And so, she cried and cried and cried. For a brief while there, a week it was, Caroline had been as happy as she ever was. In the throes of love, loved in return, able to ignore reality because when one was that happy it was hard to think of anything else.

But that was the past now, and there was nothing she could do but run.

As to where she would run? That was a decision to be made tomorrow. Tonight, she would find an inn. She would lie in bed and cry until she could not keep her eyes open any longer. And tomorrow when she woke, she would be forced to consider what to do next. Where to run. How she might restart her life. Allwhile begging forgiveness for what she had done and those she had hurt.

“Whoa there!” The carriage came to a sudden stop. Caroline started, falling forward from her seat and onto her knees. “Who goes there?!” It was the coachman, shouting into the night.

“Thank God, you stopped!” a voice responded. “I have been walking for hours! Please, you must help me!”

“Begone!” the coachman commanded. “And out of the way, you!”

“Please!” the traveler begged. “A lift to the nearest village is all I ask! I have money!”

“I said—wait! What are you doing? Get off! No! Wait—” A loud thud cut through the coachman’s commands, followed by another that sounded like something heavy falling into the mud by the door.

Caroline listened to the commotion, feeling caught between panic and apathy. With how she was feeling, it was hard to worry about much of anything, and she wondered if perhaps she was imagining it.

Only then, the door to the coach flew open. Stepping out of the dark and into the light, Caroline saw the face of the traveler, and his malevolent smile of triumph spreading from ear to ear was the stuff of nightmares. Caroline’s face paled at the sight. Shegasped and scrambled backwards. Tried to cry out but her words caught in her throat.

No… it couldn’t be… it was impossible…

“Hello, Caroline, dear. My, you have grown.”

“N - no!” she stammered as she pressed herself against the back of the carriage as if she meant to sink through the wall. “No! Please! It can’t be!”

“I’ve been looking for you. For much, much too long now.” Still smiling wickedly, his eyes gleaming with malice and a sense of violent delight, he climbed into the carriage and closed the door behind him. “We have much to catch up on.”

It was Caroline’s father. Impossible to imagine, but somehow, he had managed to find her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

“Where is Caroline?” Isabella asked as she looked about the dining room. “We should wait for her.”

“She is feeling ill,” Frederick responded without looking up from his plate. He purposefully cut into the shank of lamb, dipped it in the thick gravy which pooled beside it, and took a bite as if it was the most casual of things. “She will not be joining us.”

“Oh no,” Isabella gasped, pushing her chair back as if she meant to stand. “What has taken her?”

“A common cold, I am sure,” Frederick continued thickly, swallowing and then washing it down with a mouthful of wine. “Nothing to worry with.”

“I should see if she is all right.” Isabella made to stand.

“Isabella…” Frederick warned her, a pointed look. “I told you, she is ill but otherwise fine. Bed rest is what she needs, not distractions.”

“But—”