Chapter 6: Disappearing the Duke’s Wife

That night, I cooked a huge dinner and bought a giant bottle of wine, inviting the guards to sit down with me.

“I don’t know how long my husband will be gone. I’ll be counting on you gentlemen to keep me safe. Please, eat and drink as a small thank you.”

They couldn’t say no—not when I put it like that.

As they complained about how salty and spicy the food was, I quietly packed my last bit of cash into my bag.

Well, of course the food was over-seasoned—how else was I supposed to mask the taste of sleeping powder?

The guards ate and promptly passed out, dead to the world.

But these guys weren’t amateurs—they were trained for situations like this. Four hours later, they started to wake up.

By then, I was long gone—or at least, that’s what they thought.

“Bad news! The Duchess is gone! And the valuables are missing, too!”

“Get word to His Grace! The Duchess has disappeared!”

“Why aren’t you out searching? She can’t have gone far!”

I could only imagine the chaos. I’d heard them shouting and running around, desperate to find me before the city gates closed for the night. I figured they’d be stuck, panicking about what to tell Julian. Later, I’d learn just how frantic things got.

But what they didn’t realize was that I hadn’t actually run anywhere.

I was hiding in a tunnel beneath the cottage—a secret passage that led to an abandoned house in town. Only I knew about it.

Julian had no clue it even existed.

If I’d tried to run, they would’ve caught me in a heartbeat. Better to lay low for a few days, wait until they dropped their guard, and then slip away in disguise.

After all, I’d made it from Boston to Maple Heights on my own before, relying on nothing but my makeup skills and a little bit of luck.

Later, I’d hear that as soon as Julian got to Boston, word of my disappearance reached him. The household went into a full-blown panic. His men scoured Maple Heights and the surrounding area, but there was no trace of me. People said Julian was furious—so angry he nearly crushed the letter in his fist. I could picture it: his cold, calculating rage, and the order that followed—"Find Emmeline at all costs and bring her back to the manor."