A/N: super short and unedited!
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Belinha's mind was a blur. Her heart stuck in her throat and she could only hear the echoes of her heavy breathing. Nothing registered, not the sound of laughter, the fog of smoke coming from the men's cigars in the saloon or Lady Delafort trying to capture her attention.
Lady Delafort.
She nearly crumpled at her feet. Lord Caldwell's sweet, kind fiancee. What was he doing? Was he so far gone—had she read his character so wrongly?—that he was to cheat on his fiancee by trying to kiss her without remorse?
The horrid man! Her heart ached, and the lemonade she had drank rose in her throat in a salty concoction. She had refused Lady Delafort's gentle coaxing for her to play cards with them. She had left early, telling her that she intended to leave but Belinha couldn't even muster enough strength to show she cared. She could only hug her, tight, burying her head in her neck. For some reason, this all seemed so final, so...telling of their fate and she didn't know why, even as the tall, beautiful lady smiled at her. It didn't quite reach her eyes.
Now Belinha definitely couldn't join the table, not even at Lord Beau's insistence as he eagerly seated himself at another table. Especially not at the sneers from the table. Her heart was already being squeezed by the intent gaze of the Marquess seated at the table. What was his intention?
She knew he could never be a man to use her the way she had claimed he would but...nothing else made sense. And just when he was about to explain, the butler had come in. She didn't know if she was annoyed or relieved at such an interruption. The atmosphere had been tense since and she hadn't spoken a word going back, Beau chattering away and filling the silence with his tales of beating a plump old man at cards and even sneaking a cake slice away from someone's plate.
It should have made her laugh and under normal circumstances it would have, but her mind was elsewhere. And she was determined to keep her gaze out toward the landscape, ignoring the tingling on the side of her head from the man currently frowning ferociously her way.
And once the carriage had stopped right out the estate, she didn't wait for Lord Caldwell to get out and extend his hand. She, very rudely, climbed out and more or less ran down the gravel path toward the dark hedge walls to hide her from view. She ignored Lord Beau's exclamation of surprise and calling her name.
"Where is she going?" she'd heard.
"Let us give her some space. She has had a long night."
She was only grateful for that. She passed the shrubs and ducked under a particularly long arm of a weeping flowering apricot plant, legs taking her across the soft grass and toward the pond. It curved against the grassy bank and was flanked by benches hidden from view.
It was just what she needed to catch her breath and go through the events of the night with rational sense. Her chest heaved as she plopped herself on the crumbling bench of stone, the waters black and murky with fallen leaves laying unmoving atop it; it looked as ominous as it felt, and the chill that blew through her hair did little to ease her pounding heart.
She didn't want to think of the matter in the gallery. If she hadn't moved...if she'd leaned in herself a little, they would have...they would have...she shook her heard fervently, ignoring her heart beating so hard and her toes curling at the thought.
He was betrothed to another! And...and she was a slave. He knew nothing of the real her, Belinha. Not Louise Price. They could not be. It was entirely wrong and it didn't matter that she wanted to trace the narrow bridge of his nose and his sharp jaw or to kiss him and melt in his strong, warm arms.
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The Lord and his Lady (Forbidden #2)
Historical Fiction*spin-off to The Duke's Forbidden Lover* Lord Richard of Caldwell's perfect life is upended with news of tragedy. Amidst the uncertainty of his father's health and a happy courtship, he is forced to strike up a friendship with his mother's lady-in...