The Secret Life of a Romance Novelist

chapter 6

Isabelle hid in the shadows of the stable. Listening to the wind rustle the trees, she thought about everything. Her mysterious friend, the letters, the Duke Rumford. She was going to do it, she was going to marry Rumford.

She sighed, pulling her cloak closer. Her world was coming to a close, soon she'd be a wife. Then a mother. She'd run a household, plan meals and parties, have children.

She was told that she'd grow to enjoy it, love it even, but she doubted it. She could never find happiness with such a man as he. So dull and unromantic.

Unlike her mystery pen pal. He was spontaneous and daring. Fun and romantic. A little bit of a cad, but witty and clever.

She sighed. If only she wasn't so burden with by duty, by her family's honor.

Maybe... Maybe... Maybe she should see who her mysterious pen pal was before deciding whether or not she would run away with him. If he pleased her, she would go, if she didn't think she could be happy, she'd stay with the dependable Duke Rumford.

Yes, yes, this was a good plan. She would weigh her options.

She sat in the stable, growing colder and colder. Where was he? Hopefully he wasn't caught! That would be a horror! Especially if he announced he was coming to see her, Isabelle. Her reputation would be ruined and Duke Rumford may call off the wedding.

That would be shameful.

Sighing, Isabelle paced. The horses, mostly asleep, shuffle a bit at her disturbance. Digging through the horse things, she fed a hand full of oats to one of the awake ones, a chestnut colored mare her mother liked to ride.

That's when she noticed the envelope. It was mostly hidden from view, it was stuck between to boards above the door, half hidden by the lucky horse shoe.

She tried to reach it. She failed, being far to short to even brush her finger tips against the top of the door.

Grumbling to herself, she searched the stable for something to stand on. A step stool was tried with no success, same with two different buckets. The third bucket, though, worked and she was able to teeteringly snatch the folded paper from it's hiding place.

She ripped the envelope open with vigor. Pulling the note from it, she read-

My dear Isabelle,

With many regrets I could not make our meeting. Never feel though, I will save you from a loveless marriage. Since you are reading this, I can only assume that you planned to run away with me, and for that I am joyous. Joyous that you must feel something for the stranger that scandalously contacted you.

If you love me at all, send a message to the same address as always, and I will save you from your marriage to 'the horrid Duke,' as you so aptly call him.

Yours forever...

Isabelle clenched the letter. What now? She'd come down to tell this mystery man no, but changed her mind enough to seek his identity before making up her mind. Now this?

Stuffing the letter in her cloak pocket, she pulled the hood up and made her way back to her rooms.

She'd only begun to change back into her nightdress when the door opened a crack, and Mary Beth slipped in.

Isabelle gasped.

"Brought you some tea, miss," Mary Beth said, "Thought you might be a shade chilled after going out to the stables."