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“One more thing, Your Grace.The runner has returned with two responses.I have their notes if you would like them.Perhaps they will cheer you.”
“Of course.”Anything to brighten her dreary reality.How could she be so inordinately pleased with what happened in her bedroom and so dreadfully fearful of all the changes and distortions outside of it?
She plucked up one of the notes from her friend, Margaret Selland, Lady Maine.
I am unable to attend you.Lady Maine.
The other note was much the same.Another of her friends from her former life that somehow ended a few nights ago.The notes floated away when she stood and left the room.She opened the front door and ran.And she ran until her side hurt and her breath came in raw, rasping gulps.
Rose stopped.
She didn’t want to be pregnant.She didn’t want to be the wife of a commoner.
But she loved being a mother.And in three days, she’d found that being the wife of Matthew Hardy was no real burden at all.
Whatever panic Cyril had stirred in Rose, she would have to trust that Matthew could be a bulwark against Cyril’s misguided spitefulness.She would have to address the ton’s perception of her as the wife of Mr.Hardy all on her own.
