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“I need you to be good for a little bit longer,” she whispered to the goat, still giddy at what she’d done. She went to the back of the carriage, to the tailboard where her luggage was stored. She turned the trunk over, undoing the latches, unable to keep her grin concealed.
Diane’s face fell as soon as she opened it.
Her trousseau wasn’t in this one.
Chapter 7: Crossroads
Diane’s eyes rakedover the contents of the trunk.
Her trousseau, the items that were supposed to be all her clothes and linens for her first year of marriage— that was the trunk she had used a shawl to conceal all the erotic illustrations she had perfected over the years.
She must have grabbed the wrong box. It must have still been at the church, with all her other belongings packed away on Martin’s cart for their honeymoon.
For the first time that day, her heart went back to the church.
What had she done? Thrown away a perfectly adequate match, and a lifetime of her art, and part of her soul, all for what? One day to walk unchaperoned?
Something almost like regret started to catch up with her. As much of the morning she had spent trying not to look to the future, or what this day would mean, suddenly all she could think of was how she could possibly recover her collection of sketches.
If she took the carriage back to the church now, perhaps all her things would still be in the cart, waiting for her.
But if she returned, surely she would run into Martin. Or some other member of the wedding party, who would have questions upon questions. She would be forced into trying to recover the situation, and what she could of her reputation.
The wedding could be back on, if not today, next week.
She doubted that would be the result. By now people must have put Liam’s absence together with hers, and she was already ruined in their minds.
Even if she was fortunate enough not to have to marry Martin, she would be trapped back in her old life. The engagement would be broken, but Diane couldn’t see much difference between being hidden away to retreat from societal shame and her normal life of hiding from excitement.
At least, she would not hear people whisper only of her fainting condition. Newfound notoriety would replace that, and Diane knew people’s derision would not be any better than the saccharine pity. It would be difficult to look upon today as fondly as she wanted to remember it, when she would be forever punished for it.
Heart heavy, Diane closed the lid of her trunk, locking it up again.
She must have been gone a little too long, for when she looked up at the movement in the corner of her vision, she saw Liam, hair tied back and clothes unrumpled, no hard line of arousal pressing through his trousers anymore.
He crossed the street to her, his usual stoic, unreadable expression on his face.
