The Fugitive Duchess
by Kate Coleman
Bescough said nothing more, picking up his coat from the fire screen, and putting it over his shoulders like a cape.
“Where are you going?”
“I am going to town.” He didn’t feel the need to say any more about his destination and where he was going, but the new Duchess knew well enough what it meant. He was going to New Street, the last point between the society places of Mayfair, where any decent woman might be found, and the less honest places such as Soho. He would be going to see his mistress, she supposed. She may have been raised in the country, but it had taken her all of 5 minutes to find out that her proposed husband had had his affections stolen by a Prynne. She had been warned about such women by her father, but had not thought that she would ever be in a position where such a warning could be taken seriously.
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