by Susana Ellis
And now, on the eve of my marriage, I find myself longing to escape, at least until I can reflect clearly on my future. If I do not appear at St. George’s tomorrow, my future with Oliver will certainly be ended. But after what I overheard this evening, I comprehend that I cannot marry a man who only wants me to be a mother to his child, who likely still loves his deceased wife, my one-time best friend. Not even though I’ve loved him desperately my entire life and he may be my only chance of escaping spinsterhood.
The house is asleep, so I change into a traveling gown and pelisse, scoop up my jewelry and a stash of coins into a reticule, and hail a hackney to take me to Gracechurch Street. A bold move, but then, I am my mother’s daughter. And I’d sooner brave the unknown than the consequences of leaving my betrothed at the altar.
