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A tightness caught in her throat. ‘Thank you, Evelyn.’ She paused and ventured, ‘If His Grace arrives—’

‘He will not know you are here,’ her sister finished. ‘If—if that’s what you want.’ Her gaze slid over Charlotte’s bruises once again, her expression worried.

She nodded her thanks and stood from the settee. ‘I am grateful for your help.’

Evelyn walked with her towards the doorway. ‘Even though we weren’t very close growing up, you’re still my sister.’ She squeezed her hand. ‘I am happy about the baby, Charlotte. And I am excited to become an aunt.’

On impulse, she hugged Evelyn, and her sister embraced her warmly. ‘Go and rest. The last room on the right at the end of the hall will be yours.’

She paused a moment. ‘Will Lord Rowland mind if I am here?’ She hadn’t considered Evelyn’s husband.

But her sister’s expression grew strained. ‘I doubt if he will even notice. He pays very little attention to our household.’

There was a heaviness to her voice, one that Charlotte was familiar with. She took her sister’s hands in silent understanding. Evelyn was trying to behave as if it didn’t matter, but it only mirrored Charlotte’s own emotions.

‘We deserve better than the life our parents gave us.’ She squeezed Evelyn’s palms again, and her sister ventured a pained smile before Charlotte went to the staircase.

She walked up the stairs slowly, her thoughts still in turmoil. Her body was still aching from the bruises and the fall, but she was glad to be away from Severn. Alaric would likely be angry with her for leaving. That is, if he’d even noticed her absence.

But she already knew he would. The problem was that she wanted too much from their marriage. His utter lack of a response to her pregnancy had cut her deeply. She’d recognised his shock, but she hadn’t wanted to stay and find out his thoughts about the baby.

Charlotte paused on the stairs, feeling a pain in her abdomen—almost like a stretch instead of anything sharp. She breathed slowly, afraid to wonder what it was. For a moment she debated whether to sit, but then the pain passed. She took the rest of the steps slowly and made her way up to the third floor.

When she found her room, a maid was busy changing the bed with fresh sheets. Her small bag of belongings was already there, and she sat at the writing desk and stared outside at the grey, rainy February weather. There were so many things she wanted to say to her husband. She wanted to pour out her feelings, her emotions.

But Alaric wouldn’t want to hear them. He’d already made it clear enough that he didn’t want her or their baby.

She opened her trunk, intending to unpack her clothing, but instead, she found a sprig of dying winter jasmine. It was one of the yellow blossoms Alaric had placed on her bedside table after her fall. Somehow, they must have fallen among her belongings.

The sight of the delicate flowers was another devastating blow to her heart. How could Alaric have given her something so precious and yet not be happy about their baby? Her anger intensified at the thought, coupled with her own jealousy about his conversation with Lenora that she’d witnessed a month ago.

She needed to know whether there was any hope of saving her marriage. And that meant eventually facing Alaric and confronting him. The thought was an ache of dread within her. She curled up on the bed, resting her hand upon her abdomen.

I will give you a life with nothing but love, she promised her unborn baby. I promise you that.

Alaric pounded on the door of Lady Rowland’s townhouse. When a startled footman opened it, he said, ‘I am here to see my wife, the duchess. Stand aside.’

‘But Your Grace—’

He ignored the servant and pushed past him. He had never been inside Evelyn’s house, and he turned back to the servant. ‘You have no right to keep her from me.’

‘You’re wrong,’ came a woman’s voice. He turned and saw Lady Rowland emerging from the dining room. Her face was tight with anger. ‘I have every right to protect my sister.’

Then she was here. Relief roared through him, and he asked, ‘Is Charlotte all right?’

‘We need to talk in private,’ Evelyn said, striding past him towards the drawing room.

The dark tone of her voice made him wary, and Alaric hoped his wife was healing. He still couldn’t believe she’d left him after such a fall. It was dangerous, and she was in a weakened state. He’d nearly sacked the coachman and footman who had accompanied her to London—but then he’d recalled that they had only been obeying orders they’d believed were his.

When they reached the drawing room, Alaric closed the door behind him. ‘Where is my wife? She’s hurt, and she never should have been travelling.’

Evelyn folded her arms and glared at him. ‘If I were not a lady, I would engage in fisticuffs with you right now. How dare you hurt my sister? She’s covered in bruises, and—’

He realised then, with horror, that Lady Rowland believed he had beaten his own wife.

‘I promise you, I would never lay a hand on Charlotte,’ he said fervently. ‘When we were out walking, she slipped and had a terrible fall.’ Then he repeated his question, ‘Where is she?’

Evelyn lowered her voice. ‘She’s not here.’ After a slight pause, she added in a fierce tone, ‘Rest assured, I will protect my sister and keep her safe from anyone who tries to harm her.’