It made her feel sick.
Her thoughts betrayed her, drifting inexorably back to a bed still warm with memory, to the weight of Wilhelm’s body, the certainty of his hands, the way he had said her name as though it were something precious rather than borrowed. Her chest tightened painfully.
He will wake and know.
The image came unbidden and merciless: Wilhelm standing in the quiet of his chambers, the absence of her as loud as a shout, the note in his hands. She imagined the moment his jaw would set, the stillness that would follow, and the thought cut deeper than she had anticipated.
“I don’t deserve you,” she whispered, the words escaping before she could stop them.
What right had she had to his bed, to his body, to the tenderness he had offered? She had taken comfort, pleasure, something perilously close to happiness, knowing all the while that her shadow stretched long and cruelly behind her.
Madeline closed her eyes briefly, pressing the pen harder against the paper as though the physical sensation might calm her. Wilhelm would fight. She knew that with aching certainty. He would refuse to let her go quietly. She could not allow that.
Her hand moved again, finishing the letter with careful precision, though her fingers trembled as she signed her name.Miss Madeline Watton.The lie slid easily into place, familiar and practiced, even as it hollowed her out.
She folded the letter, sealed it, and sat for a long moment staring at the wax as it cooled, her resolve hardening with every shallow breath.
When she rose, the chair scraped softly against the floor. She gathered her cloak around her shoulders and crossed the roomwithout looking back, as though the inn itself might persuade her to stay if she hesitated.
Outside, the day was grey and sharp, the air biting faintly at her cheeks. She walked quickly, head bowed, the letter clutched tightly in her gloved hand. The post lay only a few streets away, and she kept to the narrower roads, instinctively avoiding the busier thoroughfares.
Every sound felt amplified. Footsteps. A distant shout. The creak of a cart’s wheel. Her senses prickled with unease she told herself was nothing more than nerves, the residue of fear she carried everywhere now.
She turned down a narrow alley, the stone walls closing in on either side, damp and shadowed even in daylight. Her pace quickened, her heart beginning to beat harder against her ribs.
She was halfway through when she felt a presence.
Her steps faltered.No, she told herself sharply.Do not imagine it. Do not?—
Her breath caught as footsteps sounded behind her. Madeline’s pulse spiked violently. She did not turn. Every instinct screamed at her to run, to flee back into the open street, to disappear into the crowd, but her legs felt suddenly heavy, sluggish beneath her.
She took one step forward.
A hand closed around her arm.
The grip was iron-strong. Fingers bit into her sleeve as though the person had no intention of letting go. A terrified cry tore from her throat as she twisted instinctively, panic exploding through her veins.
“Let me go,” she gasped, her free hand striking out blindly. “Help?—”
Another hand clamped over her mouth, muffling the sound, cutting it off with brutal efficiency. She struggled, her heart hammering wildly, but the figure behind her was stronger, dragging her backward with ruthless precision.
A carriage door loomed out of the shadows, already open.
“No,” she sobbed against the palm pressed to her lips, the word swallowed whole.
She was lifted bodily from the ground and thrust inside, skirts tangling, the world tilting violently as she landed hard against cushioned seats. The door slammed shut immediately, plunging her into dim, enclosed space.
The carriage lurched into motion.
Madeline clawed at the door, her breaths coming in short, panicked bursts, her chest burning. “Please,” she whispered hoarsely, terror flooding every part of her. “Please?—”
A figure shifted opposite her.
“Well,” a familiar voice said smoothly, laced with amusement she had learned to fear long ago, “this is hardly the reunion I envisioned.”
Madeline froze. The hood was drawn back slowly, revealing a face she knew as intimately as her own reflection.
“It’s been a while, my dear,” she said softly.
