With a shake of her head, Octavia said, “That isn’t true. I will speak to him—”
Anette spoke over her. “Don’t you dare,” she ordered. “I don’t want Roswell to feel any ounce of pity for me.”
“Why would he pity you?”
“I am sure that he has kissed lots of women before and I was just a distraction to him,” Anette said softly.
Octavia’s brow lifted. “My brother is not a rake. He is honorable, especially when it comes to you.”
Anette knew that her friend was trying to help, but it was no use. Yes, Roswell cared for her, but not in the way she wanted- or needed. Her heart always beat in a steady pattern when she was around him.
“You need to tell him how you feel,” Octavia encouraged.
“I could think of nothing more mortifying than that,” Anette said.
“Isn’t love worth taking the gamble?”
Anette huffed. “You have been reading far too many books with happy endings. Life has a way of killing our dreams.”
Octavia placed a hand on Anette’s sleeve. “You, of all people, don’t believe that. You couldn’t. You want to write a book to inspire others.”
“Sometimes I write to escape my own troubles,” Anette admitted. “I want people to find their happily ever afters because I don’t think it will ever happen to me.”
“What poppycock!” Octavia exclaimed. “Your happily ever after is within your reach.”
“I know you mean well…”
Octavia jumped up from her seat, stilling her words. “We need to get you out of here so you can tell Roswell that you love him.”
“I would never be so brazen.”
As she approached the window, Octavia said, “That is the problem. The time to be bold is now.” She reached down to her skirt and ripped off a section of the fabric. Then, she wrapped her fingers in the fabric. “I am going to get this window open and we are going to escape.”
“How? It is not as if we can fly down to the street,” Anette said.
“We will think of something. We have to.”
Anette watched as Octavia grasped the top of a nail and tried to force it out. It was pointless to even try. “Why are you so determined for me to talk to Roswell?”
Octavia continued to work on the nail as she explained, “I love Roswell dearly. He does his duty, without complaint, but there has been a sadness to him that I can’t explain. I see it in his eyes. It is as if he is missing something. And I think that something is you.”
“If that is the case, why hasn’t he said anything before now?” Anette asked.
“I can’t answer that. Only he can. But I do believe in my heart that you two were meant for one another.”
Anette rose and stood next to her friend. “I know you mean well, but there are some things you can’t fix.”
“I can fix this,” Octavia said as she yanked her arm back. She proudly held up a bent nail. “Now we have a weapon.”
“A nail is not going to help us against these men,” Anette argued.
“Oh, ye of little faith,” Octavia remarked.
The sound of a key being inserted into the lock caused them both to jump back onto the straw mattress. It wouldn’t do them any good if they looked like they were plotting their escape, no matter how bleak that option was.
The door opened and a burly man stepped into the room with a loaf of bread. “I hope you ladies are hungry,” he mocked as he tossed the bread into the center of the room.
He left without saying another word, locking the door behind him.
