All must be in good order for the duke, excepting his own wife, whom he seemed to believe a lost cause. He had told her to get out. She knew he hadn’t meant it, that he had only been ranting and waving his arms in anger. She was still leaving. Tonight. She squirmed out of her gown by pure determination. She heard a seam rip at some point, but she didn’t care. She laid the dress over a chair and went to one of her trunks from home, and pulled a drab gray traveling gown from the bottom. A bonnet, gloves, even a coarse wool cloak that was perfectly nondescript for her purpose. She would indeed take the back door. In fact, it was the easiest way to slip out without being noted. The servants were busy with the party, and the kitchen was in an uproar of pots and trays. Gwen pulled her hood about her face and snuck out as the cook was calling for more wine to be served. The stables were equally busy, managing the horses and carriages of the guests. She went to Eira’s stall and saddled her for riding.
