Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
There was no right match anymore, not for Rosalind. There was no match at all. Lord Marlow was going to India. “When is he leaving?” she asked.
“Within the next few weeks, I imagine. Soon after Felicity and Carlo depart to return to Italy. We’ll go to the dock to see him off and you can make a proper goodbye. Until then, you are not to contact him or try to dissuade him from these plans. Promise me, Rosalind. Otherwise, your father will…”
Her voice trailed off, but Rosalind understood what further misbehavior would mean. Another, even worse punishment from her strict father. She shifted on her bottom, still tender from her previous lecture and correction. It was a reminder that she had no power, no recourse even if her heart ached. She’d never hated her lack of power more than in this moment.
“I promise, Mama,” she said in a dull, defeated tone. But inside, a red-hot ember of rebellion burned.
Chapter Four
Providence
Marlow’s departure was to take place mid-spring, far too soon to suit Rosalind. It was barely enough time to do the necessary things: struggle with her conscience, make a terrifying decision, and formulate her plan.
Because if Marlow was sailing for India on the good ship Providence, Rosalind was too.
Of course, making that happen required a series of things to go the right way, things that might still go horribly wrong. It was quite a risk, her plan…and she was not an experienced risk-taker.
Purchasing the ticket had been a hair-raising adventure and had used up the entirety of her saved spending money, money she’d been given over the years to buy hats, shoes, ribbons, and various fripperies to spoil her horses. The caper had involved lies and subterfuge to even make her way to the ticket office, but she’d managed to buy first class passage on the Providence under the invented name of Mrs. Rosa Lintel, a widow.
It was a journey her spoiled horses couldn’t make.
But that was a temporary sacrifice. She must go to India with Marlow and marry him there. Then, when they returned, she could move her horses to his town home’s regally outfitted stables and take up residence as Lady Marlow. Everything would be well in time if she only had the courage—and luck—to see her plan through.
She’d had two weeks to wait after purchasing her passage, two whole weeks to languish in mourning and pretend to be the old, obedient Rosalind who accepted things. When she went to see Felicity and her family off at the docks, and wish them safe passage back to Italy, she used the opportunity to study her surroundings, thinking over the ins and outs of her escape and trying to consider every scenario. The only scenario she didn’t allow herself to consider was backing out. This was her only chance to have a life with Marlow, even if she was terrified. If she wanted to marry him, she had to take her future into her hands without yielding to those who “knew best.”
Her sleep suffered. Nightmares shook her, worries of all that might go awry. By the morning of Marlow’s departure, her fears had reached an apex, but for love, she could not abandon her plans. She donned her loosest black mourning gown with several shifts and petticoats beneath it. She double-checked the contents of the traveling trunk she’d filled with as many necessities as she could manage. Her most beloved collection of romantic poetry, of course. Lighter gowns, for India’s hot weather. A few of her best hats to guard her complexion. She would have to buy a wedding dress somewhere along the way, because there simply wasn’t room to pack a fittingly ornate frock.
Well, Marlow would have to buy it, for she was broke as a church mouse. It was expensive to sail, and the HMS Providence was only going halfway. The ship would sail to Egypt, where they would disembark and travel overland to a port situated for India. Her stomach churned when she thought of traversing such exotic lands, but Marlow would be with her then.
Well, he’d be with her once she revealed herself to him, which could not happen until they were far enough away from England that he could not send her back. Once they’d sailed far enough away, she’d reveal her scheme and explain that he needn’t run away to India alone, that they could run away together. In time, their families would understand.
It was a good plan. A necessary plan. She closed the trunk and pressed down her panic. It was far too late to panic.
“Rosalind?”
She spun at a knock on the door. She barely had time to shove the trunk behind her bed before her mother entered. She took in Rosalind’s shapeless mourning frock with a disappointed frown.
“Won’t you come with us, darling?”
She shook her head. “No, Mama. I can’t stand to be there, to see him sail away.”