Page 13

ESCAPING THE DUKE PROLOGUE

T hank you for reading Winter in a Regency Wonderland. I hope you enjoyed their romantic world.

1804

It started with a creak.

Low and brittle, like a thin branch breaking under her favorite garden bluebird. In the next moment, the carriage dipped, gently pressing her into the plush seat.

Then… the world plunged.

Priscilla slammed her eyes as the carriage pitched forward, thrusting her toward the inescapable hardness of the wooden wall. She braced for an impact that never came, as someone grabbed her, pulling her back against a softness she knew so well. Warmth and security blanketed her, even as the carriage tipped this way and that, straightening only to tilt once more. Yet no more fear surfaced. Grandmother would never let anything harm her.

Of course the world knew this, for just then the carriage skidded to a halt, still erect if at a jaunty angle. A moment later, the door jerked open.

A blast of icy air blew into the carriage, swirling crystal snowflakes on its tendrils. A form loomed against a backdrop of shadows and danger. “Are you all right, Lady Susan, Lady Priscilla?”

Priscilla relaxed at the coachman’s steady, if rushed, voice. Her grandmother gripped her, her usually merry blue eyes hard with concern. They softened only slightly as Priscilla returned the calm gaze. “Are you all right, child?”

Priscilla lifted her chin and said in a voice that wavered very little, “I am well.”

A ghost of a smile graced her grandmother’s lips before she returned her attention to the warmly garbed coachman. “And you, Dobbs?”

The coachman nodded, then glanced outside. Under the moon’s dim light, his frozen breath swirled into tiny puffs. “One of the wheels shattered. Unfortunately, the carriage with your daughter and husband is far in the distance, and I doubt they realize we are no longer following. I know someone nearby who can replace it. Would you like to stay here, while I hurry to his home?”

Stay here? Priscilla just managed to hold in a gasp. Out the door, fluffs of white rode the blustery wind, a concoction of light against dark. There was little to see in the late night, yet what was visible gave little doubt as to the fortunes of the residents: broken down hobbles, garbage strewn about the streets, buildings a hearty breeze away from collapse. A group of children in ragged clothing peered from a windowless hole in a barely standing shack.

Something cold and sour settled in her stomach.

“Thank you, Dobbs.” Her grandmother nodded. “Be careful.”

“Of course.” He nodded respectfully, then backed away, firmly closing the door behind him.

“Do not worry, my dear. He’ll be back soon.”

Priscilla sat up straight. “I’m not scared,” she said in a voice that made her sound at least nine.

“Of course not.” Her grandmother’s lips quirked up. “It seems frightening, yet they are simply poor. I have visited here before.”

Priscilla widened her eyes. “You have?” Her mother would never dare venture into such a world.

“I have friends of many circumstances.” The older lady smiled. “Poor, rich, servants, lords, we are all people. Do not ever forget that, child.”

Priscilla nodded, then jumped as the carriage shook in the wind, as the howling outside increased. Suddenly the door opened. Frozen air snapped at her, and she scooted back in fear of the monster who must surely be there. Yet only the frigid outside greeted her.

Her grandmother reached for the handle. “Do not worry, child. It was probably damaged in the–”

She stopped.

Peered outside, looked around.

Priscilla slowly moved forward. “Is all well?”

“I hear something,” her grandmother murmured.

Priscilla listened closer, yet heard nothing save the trees blowing in the wind, the ramshackle buildings shuddering against the onslaught. The streets were deserted, no foolish soul willing to face nature’s wrath. “I only hear the wind.”

Her grandmother’s gaze darted into the street, back to her, and then set. “I cannot leave you alone. Come along.”

“We’re going out there?” Priscilla rushed out in a hushed breath, even as she took her grandmother’s proffered hand. “Surely it is dangerous.”

“And well it is, for all creatures. Yet we haven’t a choice.” Her grandmother removed a shawl from her shoulders and placed it around Priscilla. “No one should be out in this.”

Pricilla shivered at the nonsensical answer, sucking in a breath of cold as she stomped through the thick gray powder. Could one freeze from the inside out? If so, then how would–

A sudden cry pierced the silence. Was it some sort of animal? Her grandmother hastened her stride, still firmly holding her hand as she raced along a hedge of low bushes, covered in trash. As the cry came again, she moved almost frantically. Then, she froze. And Priscilla gasped.

The bundle was so tiny. Barely the length of Daddy’s hand, and not much thicker. At first it seemed like a simple brown cloth, yet it was moving, squirming.

Her grandmother reached down, and slowly, carefully picked up the bundle. She swept aside the coarse fabric.

A scrunched up little face and a pink bow mouth. A tiny curl of hair and the most pathetic cry Priscilla had ever heard.

A baby.

“But how? Wh-” The words caught in Priscilla’s throat. “No,” she whispered.

“Come, dear. We must hurry.” With a sturdy hand holding the baby to her chest, her grandmother stomped through the snow, in the direction away from the carriage.

The wind picked up, sending snowy pellets into her eyes, yet they continued on. Her grandmother clutched the baby closer. “We’re almost there.”

“Where are we going?” The wind swallowed Pricilla’s words, yet it didn’t matter as her grandmother released her to knock on the door of a wide two-floor building. It was plain and badly needed paint, yet further from collapse than most of its neighbors.

The door opened, sending a sliver of yellow candlelight into the night. A thin woman in a gray dress peered out, then opened it wider. A hushed voice betrayed clear surprise, “Lady Martha?”

“I’m sorry to bother you so late, Mrs. Henley.” Her grandmother moved forward, bringing the baby into the warmth. “Our carriage broke down, and I found something in the bushes. I was hoping you may be able to help.”

The young woman peered closer, then gasped, a hand to her lips, as she stared at the tiny bundle. “Alone?”

Her grandmother nodded solemnly. “I must have found her within minutes, though she is frightfully cold. I know you normally only take children with mothers, but I cannot bear to leave her at an orphanage and–”

“It’s all right.” Mrs. Henley reached out and carefully took the child. The baby cried, yet her voice was so weak. The woman held her close, gently shushing her. As the baby quieted, the woman called to someone behind her. “Elizabeth, fetch some warm blankets.” She turned back. “I will ask around, of course. Make certain there was no mistake, no one missing her. I will also ask the authorities.”

“And if no one should come forward?”

The woman gazed down at the baby, her expression softening. “I believe we have enough room for one more.”

Priscilla released a breath of icy air. She stood taller, trying to see the little bundle.

“Thank you,” her grandmother said quietly. “I will send extra this week.”

The woman peered at her for a moment, then nodded.

Another gust of wind iced the world, and for just a moment, the two women stared at each other as if sharing some sort of secret communication. In the next moment, her grandmother stood taller and backed away. “I will leave you to warm the baby, and I will do the same for my granddaughter. Be well.”

Her grandmother turned briskly around and took Priscilla’s hand once more. Priscilla tried to get one last look, but the door closed with a soft click.

“We must return to the carriage.”

They strode quickly as the snow started to thicken. Yet even the cold couldn’t intrude on the thoughts tangled in Priscilla’s mind. She squeezed her grandmother’s hand. “Will she be all right?”

Her grandmother looked down, and her expression relaxed ever-so-slightly. “I believe so.”

Priscilla breathed out.

“Do you realize what we did today?” her grandmother asked.

Biting her lip, she shook her head. Her grandmother smiled. “We saved a life today.”

Saved a life?

Her grandmother stopped, bent down. Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight. “Some people will say you can’t do amazing things, Priscilla, just because you are a female. Do not ever believe them. You can do whatever you wish to do. You can save the world.”

Wonder bloomed in Priscilla, bright, beautiful and perfect, and she smiled so wide, her cheeks hurt. Yet she couldn’t stop herself, not at the feeling that was better than a hundred of cook’s tarts. A moment of absolute perfection in a world of darkness, changing someone’s life. It was the best feeling in the world.

She never wanted it to end.