The stillness of the night shattered when the manor doors flew open. The young mistress ran out, feet bare and donned in only her chemise and petticoat. A whole host of butlers and maids soon followed after her, but in vain. She ran swiftly across the lawns, quickly putting distance between her and her pursuers.
Once in the safety of the trees, she collapsed on the old stump. Stillness once more enveloped the night, save her breathless gasps.
“It wouldn’t have been so terrible,” I said after a few moments. She shook her head, angrily stretching out her hand. I complied, handing her the dagger at my waist.
“And you have never met the duke,” she answered, running the knife against her hair. I mourned each brown strand that flittered to the ground. “No one should ever marry that man. I hope he dies alone.”
