Of Fate And Prejudice

Chapter Thirteen

Frances awoke with a start. Pain swirled in her head, and when she attempted to rise from the covers that buried her body, she found that it wasn't just her head that ached. Her wrists were sore. The burning sensation in her neck spread throughout her lungs with every breath she took. Even her legs felt like they'd just endured a marathon...

Her breath ceased with the thought as the memories of the ball crashed down on her. She remembered the marquess's morbid advances, his lips forcefully devouring hers. She'd tried with all her might to resist him. Even now, the sound of her ball dress being ripped by him haunted her. She'd felt unspeakable fear as his huge form pinned her to the tree. Her fear had not been for herself, but for the life that grew within her.

Ignoring the pain that sliced through her skull and muscles as she shot upright to a sitting position, she shoved the covers down until her hands settled over the small swell of her stomach. Her baby was alive. Tears filled her eyes with the thought as she leaned back against the headboard and cradled her stomach in her hands. She was uncertain where the will had come from, only that she'd been desperate to overpower the marquess. She'd clawed, kicked and flailed, and when that had failed, she'd used her teeth. She'd bit so deeply into the flesh of his lips as they assaulted her that she'd tasted his vile blood. He then let her go, and without stopping to consider whether he was gravely injured, she fled. She did not stop running until she was collapsing on the floor, breathless.

She vaguely remembered being lifted from the floor several minutes later by a man whose embrace felt familiar; Roman. She had given into the need to sleep as he carried her out of the room, and although she'd awoken again in the carriage, feverish with trauma, his arms had held her firmly to his chest, and she fell asleep once more to the soothing sound of his pounding heart.

The sound of the door opening pulled Frances out of her reverie. She turned from the window, where a bird's nest sat nearly finished, to the door as Sara entered the room. Sara's face brightened with the sight of Frances, and throwing the sheets in her hands to the floor, Sara let out a happy yelp as she hurried to Frances' side.

"Oh, Miss Frances!" She embraced her so fiercely that Frances had to bite down on her lower lip to keep from wincing. "You're awake." Sara leaned back enough to look down at her, as if to make certain she was truly awake.

Frances nodded. "Yes."

"Thank the lord! I'm so relieved." The mattress sank with Sara's weight as she sat on it and took Frances' hand. "I was so worried."

Seeing the weariness that clouded her dear friend's eyes, Frances raised her hand to her lips and kissed her knuckles. "Well, there's no need to be anymore. I'm fine now."

"Are you?" Sara frowned. "I was petrified when Mr. Brown brought you home last night," Sara said. "I thought you were dead. I thought he'd found us..." She shook her head.

Frances squeezed her hand. "He's dead," she assured Sara, even if she knew she couldn't be certain. The fear of what might be—what could be—had hung low over the two women for several weeks.

Sara nodded, but her eyes betrayed her disbelief. "What happened?" Her warm hand settled on Frances' face. "The physician believes you were attacked"

"Physician?" she gasped, horrified when Sara nodded. "Surely he didn't... Oh Sara, I beg that you reassure me Mr. Brown remains unaware of the child's existence!" Frances clutched Sara's hand tightly, fearing she might pass from the dread that accelerated her heart.

"He knows."

Frances felt the blood drain from her face at Sara's announcement. Several thoughts ran through her mind in the space of one second. Several questions she knew Sara was incapable of providing answers to, yet she had to ask.