She shook her head.
“I am offering you employment,” he continued, earnestness roughening his tone. “A safe place to live. Stability. Respect. You will have your own room, full wages, and my full protection. You may even begin at once, if you wish to.”
Her lips parted. “At once?”
“Yes.” He stepped closer and the air grew weighted between them, charged with something hot and dizzying she did not understand. “Come with us now. I will send for your belongings tomorrow.”
Her knees weakened. Behind him, Hale still searched, still hadn’t found her, as the Duke thankfully provided cover. Even so, she had nowhere else to run and this stranger, this Duke, was offering her the one thing she had forgotten she deserved: safety.
Standing this close to him, she felt heat coil low in her stomach, a pull she could not rationalize. His presence filled the space around her, quiet but consuming.
He leaned slightly forward and she felt his breath warm the air between them. “Miss Watton,” he said, voice deep, threaded with something that made her pulse stutter, “come with me.”
Sparks danced along her skin. She stepped back, only to calm herself. “I…” Her voice shook, but she forced it still. “Yes. I will come. If we leave now.”
Relief swept through his features so subtly she might have imagined it. He nodded once, firm and certain. “Good. Let us go then.”
He placed a hand at the small of her back, the warmth of his touch slipping through the layers of her cloak and sending a shiver spiraling through her despite her effort to remain composed, then guided her out of the tent.
She kept her head slightly bowed as they walked, the edges of her hood casting shadows over her face. Her cloak gathered tightly around her while her eyes swept cautiously over the shifting crowd, searching each passing expression for any sign of danger.
They reached the Duke’s carriage at last, where Mrs. Hayward waited with Tessa already nestled inside. The child’s anxious gaze flickered between her father and Madeline as though trying to understand the urgency surrounding them.
Madeline stepped up into the carriage, settling onto the cushioned seat with careful composure. As she adjusted her skirts, she allowed herself one glance back toward the festival.
Captain Hale stood near the edge of the lantern-lit square, body clearly rigid. His expression was dark, tight with frustration, his eyes sweeping the crowd with cold precision. He looked everywhere she had been moments ago, everywhere she might have been still, and yet his gaze slid past the carriage entirely, not pausing even for a second.
And then, the carriage began to move away.
Relief unfurled inside her, sudden and overwhelming, loosening the tension that had been tightening within her since she first saw him in the crowd. She let her eyes fall closed. Her chest rose in a slow, trembling exhale as the realization washed through her.
For the first time in months, she was not within his reach.
CHAPTER 3
“Miss Watton,” Tessa burst out suddenly, unable to contain herself even a moment longer, “you’re really coming with us? Truly? You’re here, but I thought perhaps Papa was only doing this to make me calm down, but you’re here, and you’re sitting with us, and?—”
“Tessa,” the Duke said sharply.
Madeline’s breath caught at the sound of her name spoken with such joy, such unguarded relief.
Children she tutored usually liked her. Little Jonah had been such a ray of sunshine, eager for her praise and company. She had grown used to that gentle affection, to the warmth that built slowly over time.
This was different.
Tessa’s excitement came all at once, unfiltered and absolute, as though Madeline’s presence alone had already promised something good. It struck her like a warm wind after months spent bracing against storms, and for a moment a strange ache bloomed beneath her ribs.
She had not been anyone’s source of excitement in this way before. It startled her, the way Tessa looked at her as though she were someone worth hoping for. And beneath that unexpected warmth came a second ripple: the guilty, trembling awareness that she was stepping into a future she had not planned.
The Duke leaned toward his little girl, the stern set of his brows softening just faintly when he saw the panic flicker across her face.
“Tell me if anything aches.” His voice was low, almost rough with the remnants of fear.
“Nothing aches,” Tessa whispered, looking at him with earnest conviction.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes, Papa.”
