I Thought The Duke Loved Me—Until I Heard His Twisted Plan For My Unborn Baby
Part 1
I had gone to the private study to surprise the man I loved with the news that I was carrying his child.
My heart fluttered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
The heavy oak door was slightly ajar, spilling a thin slice of golden light into the dim corridor.
I raised my hand to push it open, a joyful smile already forming on my lips.
The cold, razor-sharp voice of the Dowager Duchess, Beatrice, stopped me dead in my tracks.
“You are playing a dangerous game, Thomas,” Beatrice hissed.
“The Miller family is demanding a formal announcement by the end of the season.”
“You cannot risk a scandal with this penniless companion.”
I held my breath, my hand trembling violently.
“There will be no scandal, Mother,” Thomas replied.
“Catherine knows of the arrangement and is well aware of her own barren condition.”
“And the Robinson girl?”
Beatrice pressed.
“Megan is healthy, strong, and entirely dependent on me,” Thomas said.
“Doctor Carter assures me she is already with child.”
“Once the heir is born, the infant will be quietly handed over to Catherine and me.”
“We will present the child as Catherine’s own.”
“And the mother?”
Beatrice asked.
“She will be generously compensated,” Thomas finally stated.
“A carriage will take her to a convent in the Swiss Alps, far away from English society.”
“She will never want for anything, and she will never see the child again.”
I clamped a hand tightly over my mouth to stifle a ragged gasp.
The man I loved, the father of my unborn child, had orchestrated a monstrous deception.
I was nothing more than an incubator.
They planned to discard me and erase me from existence the moment I served my purpose.
I backed away from the door, the plush corridor carpet absorbing the sound of my frantic retreating footsteps.
“They will not take you,” I whispered to the empty room.
I immediately enlisted the secret help of Sarah, a young scullery maid whose loyalty I had earned.
For three agonizing weeks, I played the part of the oblivious, besotted lover.
Through Sarah, I managed to send a desperate coded letter to an old family friend, Captain David Hughes.
“Have a carriage waiting at the crossroads on the fourteenth.
We sail at midnight.”
It was the night Thomas was scheduled to attend a mandatory parliamentary gala in London.
The evening of the fourteenth descended upon Kensington Manor with a ferocious, howling gale.
I dressed in a simple, dark wool traveling gown.
“You must hurry, miss,” Sarah whispered frantically.
“The carriage driver, Old Ned, is waiting by the old servants’ gate just past the stables.”
Taking a deep, steadying breath, I slipped out of my room.
I navigated the steep servants’ staircase and finally reached the inner courtyard.
The storm hit me instantly.
As I approached the heavy iron gates, a chilling sound sliced through the howling wind.
It was the deep, aggressive barking of the estate’s massive mastiffs.
I froze completely, pressing myself against the rough stone wall.
Suddenly, the entire courtyard was flooded with blinding light.
Dozens of lanterns flared to life.
A massive black stallion emerged into the lantern light.
Astride the beast was Thomas Kensington.
He had not gone to London.
“I received word from a reliable source that there was a rat in my household,” Thomas snarled.
“A traitor planning to steal what is mine.”
Old Ned.
The fishmonger.
I had been utterly betrayed.
“Miss Robinson is attempting to leave with Kensington property,” Thomas said.
His voice dropped to a deadly quiet register.
“Bar the gates, lock every door in the mansion.”
“No one gets in, and absolutely no one gets out.”
I watched in absolute horror as the estate guards rushed to the massive iron gates, pulling the heavy chains.
The savage hounds were loose, and Thomas was actively hunting me.
His eyes locked directly onto the sliver of darkness where I was desperately hiding.
“Did you really think you could run from me, Megan?”
His voice carried over the wind, dark and lethal.
“Did you really think I would let you take my heir?”
He sneered, his gloved hand shooting out to grip my upper arm.
“You carry my blood, Megan.”
“I belong to no one,” I screamed over the howling wind.
“Your little rebellion ends tonight.”
“Benson!” he barked over his shoulder.
“Escort Miss Robinson to the East Tower,” Thomas commanded, coldly dragging me out of the shadows.
He shoved me violently toward the armed guards.
I fought desperately, kicking and twisting, but the guards’ grips were like iron.
I looked back one last time.
Thomas stood in the courtyard, watching my agonizing ascent with a chilling, victorious calm.
They threw me into the room.
The heavy iron bolt slid into place with a sickening thud, sealing me inside my gilded tomb with no way out.
