Finally.
She let the stream of people carry her past stalls and laughter to the square’s far edge, to the railing where the river’s smell came up dark and clean.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Ten minutes to not be anyone’s responsibility.
Children squealed behind her.
Ordinary life. She could almost pretend her chest did not ache.
“Foolish,” she murmured, not sure whether she meant herself or the world.
Bootsteps scuffed near her. She shifted aside to give space, blinking hard to keep the burn in her eyes from spilling.
“Pardon,” a man said, passing.
“Don’t mind me,” she said, managing a small, polite smile.
“Maria!” Nicholas’s voice lifted across the press, closer than before. She turned, instinct and affection pulling her half a step toward the sound.
“Maria!” nearer now. She could just make out Nicholas’s shoulder above the crowd. Violet was beside him as they edged their way through.
“I’m here,” she called, not loud enough, almost relieved.
But then, a hand closed around her upper arm.
She startled, twisting. “Oh… I beg your…”
“Easy,” a man’s voice murmured.
She pulled back.
“Sir, release me at once!”
The hand tightened, and another rose, covering her mouth. She tried to turn her head, to bite, to scream against the palm; she caught a glimpse of pale eyes that she recognized.
Rondell?
“Quiet,” he breathed. “You’ll only make it...”
She bucked her shoulders.
Somewhere beyond the wall of people, Nicholas shouted her name again, sharp with fear. “Maria!”
The man’s grip did not waver, and he pivoted, drawing her with him, and the swirl of bodies knitted tight at their backs like a curtain.
The last thing she heard was Nicholas calling, “Maria!” as she was pulled sideways into the narrow shade of the alley, and the light of the square fell away.
CHAPTER 25
“Your Grace, you have an urgent visitor.”
Stephen was surprised by the appearance of his footman.
“Who is it?” he asked, standing up at once. It was not unusual for him to receive visitors, much less urgent ones, but given the conditions in which Maria had left a few days prior, his mind had begun to spiral immediately.
“Duke of Hargrave,” the footman announced, but before any more words could be exchanged, Nicholas came barging in through the door.
“Forgive me, Verwood,” he started, looking as though he had just seen a terrible ghost. “But I had no choice but to intrude. We need to speak urgently.”