She Fled Her Wedding — Then Found the Duke Escaping on the Same Train
Chapter 4
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Instead, she said, "I was tired of being the one for whom nothing happened."He did not rescue her from the sentence."My sister married. My cousins married. Even the girls I was asked to chaperone began having babies. I know there are worse things. I know I have been fortunate. But when you asked, everyone looked so pleased. Papa cried. I had not seen him cry since my mother died. And you were kind. I thought perhaps I could step into the happiness they had already made for me."Piers lowered his eyes. "The more they spoke of it, the less room there seemed to be for anything else," he said.She nodded once.The wheels struck a change in the rails. The rhythm slowed. Ahead, beyond a stand of trees, the next station came into view. Annora stood before she could lose her nerve. Piers lifted her small bag from the seat."We can send the telegrams and take a carriage back," he said.She looked at him sharply."To stop it," he added. "We should at least do that ourselves."At the door, she turned. "Will you stand beside me when they ask?""Yes.""Even if your mother cries?"He glanced toward the platform, his face suddenly older than 38. "Yes," he said again, less easily.The train stopped. He stepped down first, then offered his hand. For the first time since she had accepted his proposal, Annora took it because she actually needed help. Her skirts caught on the step. He bent to free them, and she heard him say something under his breath."What?""Your dress appears more determined to attend this wedding than either of us."A laugh escaped her, sudden and wholly inappropriate. Then she began to cry.There was nothing graceful about it. She cried on the little platform beside a stack of empty milk churns, while Piers stood holding a bridal veil and looking as though he would rather face a firing squad than select an appropriate response. At last, he offered his handkerchief."It is clean," he said with unnecessary solemnity.That made everything worse. Annora laughed into the linen and cried harder. A porter approached, took in the dress, the Duke, and the veil, and quietly decided that the milk churns needed moving elsewhere.Piers waited. He did not tell her she must be brave. Eventually, the fit passed, leaving her cold and exhausted."I am not crying because you will not marry me," she said."I didn't think you were.""I might be a little."He looked away, giving her the privacy his presence could not otherwise offer. "I am not enjoying being unwanted either," he admitted.She blew her nose. "How ridiculous we are.""Yes."