“If you make me marry such a man, then you are worse than the devil—ahh!”
He struck her across the cheek, releasing her arm and delivering such a firm blow that she staggered back away from him, clutching her face. She collided with the armchair and used it to hold herself up as she trembled.
“Learn from this, Laura. The Earl will not want an outspoken wife. He will care for it no more than I care for an outspoken daughter,” he snapped the words in her direction before turning away from her.
She winced at the words, knowing few gentlemen she had ever met liked her wish to speak her mind. Her mother had been the same as her, always wishing to speak her mind but fearing doing so. The day her mother had died, her father had not even visited her. Claiming he had already heard enough words from his wife for his lifetime.
“I will not —”
“That is enough, Laura!” he shouted, tossing the words over his shoulder as he returned to the door. “Our guests are still in the ballroom, dancing, making merry, and waiting for our return to celebrate with us. We will join them.”
“How do you expect me to ‘make merry’ now?” She looked up to him, still clutching her cheek. The pain was stinging from where he had left a handprint on her cheek. “I will never be happy again now.”
“Do not be dramatic, child,” he scoffed as he crossed the room again, returning to her side. “Now, I am ordering you to return to the ballroom.” Laura refused to move. She stayed exactly where she was, holding onto the chair and her cheek. “Do I need to administer punishment again to make you move?”
She scrambled away before he could lay another hand on her. She put the desk between them once more, deciding quickly on her actions. If he came near her again, she would fight back. She would not be hurt by him anymore. She would grab anything near to hand, the inkwell from the desk, the nearby books, or even the parchment weight, anything to prevent him from striking her.
“Insolent child, just like your mother,” he spat the words out as he turned away from her. “She tried to avoid doing her duty too. Clean yourself up,” he gestured to her with a frantic wave of his hand. “Put something on that cheek to hide the red mark and join me in the ballroom. If you are not there in ten minutes, believe me, Laura, you will regret it.”
Laura flicked her head away from him, looking to the mirror above the fireplace nearby. From her attempted escape around the room, some of her brown locks had fallen out of her updo, and her pale skin was mottled red from his strike.
“Do I have your agreement?”
Laura wanted to shout and rail at him that she had no inclination to follow his instruction to return to the ball, let alone his instruction to marry Lord Moore, but she knew she had little choice.
“Yes,” she replied simply, watching in the mirror as he walked back toward the door.
“Good,” he flung open the door, disappeared through, and shut it loudly behind him. As it clattered in the frame, Laura jumped once more at the sharp sound. She closed her eyes for a few minutes, trying to stop the tears that were threatening to fall.
I cannot do this. I cannot marry him. This future cannot be mine!
She opened her eyes to see her reflection in the mirror, tracing the blue eyes, petite features, and brown hair. She was so similar to her mother in many ways. The thought brought something to her mind… Her governess had once told her of her mother’s attempt to leave Sir Hamilton’s house. She had tried to escape in the dead of night with Laura in her arms and the governess with her, but they had been caught before they could leave London and forced to return home.
Perhaps I should be even more like my mother!
Her governess, Miss Ava Buchanan, had retired to Scotland two years ago.
What if I could escape my father’s house after all? Do what my mother always wanted to!
She pushed away from the mirror and began to pace up and down the room, trying to reset her hair as a plan formed in her mind. She could run away and escape her betrothal. Her father would surely never follow her all the way to Scotland. There she could live a different life entirely, one where she was her own master! She could go into service, it would be hard, but it was infinitely preferable to a future married to Lord Moore. Or a future where she had to face the continued beatings from her father.
She turned back to the mirror, seeing the red mark on her cheek. The sight of it only made her more determined.
“Very well, father,” she muttered under her breath. “I will pretend to agree with this betrothal, but only to fool you.” She walked toward the door, preparing to return to her chamber to reset her makeup. “Then I will take my leave of you. For good!”
* * *
The next night as Laura returned to her chamber, she was extra careful to lock the door. She had been awake for most of the night before, considering her plan. She had wavered a few times. After all, she had never known a life where she was not beside her father! Yet now…she would do anything to be away from him. In the end, any hesitation she felt was overruled.
I have to escape.
The reason her mother’s attempt to flee had not worked was that she had tried to leave the house dressed as she always was. In a carriage she owned, her mother had made no attempt to hide her identity as they crossed London. It had therefore been easy enough for Sir Hamilton to trace her escape and bring her home.
I will not make the same mistake.
Laura had retired early for the evening, claiming to her father that she had a headache after all the excitement from the ball the night before. He had barely acknowledged her words. He was much more focused on preparing her dowry for her marriage to the Earl.
As the lock of the door clicked into place, she turned into the room, her movements hurried and frenzied as she lit some candles to keep her company. With the room bathed in amber light, she looked under the bed and pulled out the pack she had secretly placed there earlier that day. She opened the pack on the bed, revealing all the things she would need to escape: a bundle of food, a waterskin of beer, and a servant boy’s uniform.
