Rapture's Tempest Read Free

the family employ, but Martin had assured her that Rose had only left because she’d gotten a better job. Delight had visited her at her home several times since her return, but their conversations had been strained somehow, and she had had no idea why.
    A sudden thought of Martin caused Delight to shiver with disgust as drug-clouded memories of his hands and mouth upon her continued to assail her. She wanted to bathe…to scrub every reminder of his slimy touch from her body. She felt dirty—soiled—and she wondered if she would ever feel clean again.
    Hurrying onward, Delight was relieved to see a soft light shining from Rose’s window. Hiding momentarily, she watched the street to make certain that Martin wasn’t already there, waiting. When she finally felt it was safe to venture forth, she moved quickly to the deeply shadowed door and knocked softly.
    “Rose?” her voice was hushed yet full of panic. “Rose, it’s me…Delight. Please…open up!”
    “Delight?” Rose questioned, her voice muffled through the door.
    “Yes, Rose. Please…let me in!” she pleaded, glancing nervously down the deserted street.
    The moment the door opened, Delight rushed inside and quickly pushed it shut behind her. She took the time to slide the bolt back into place before turning to her friend.
    “Thank you,” she breathed in relief. “Oh, Rose, thank you.”
    “Delight…what’s wrong? Why are you here? It’s practically the middle of the night!” Rose demanded.
    “I had to leave….”
    “It’s not your mother? She isn’t…?” Rose had heard that Clara de Vries was ill.
    “No, no,” Delight hastened to reassure her. “It’s nothing like that….”
    “Then what?”
    A noise sounded outside and Delight jumped guiltily.
    Her eyes wide with fear, she spoke, “I’ve got to get away…will you help me?”
    Rose looked at Delight, her confusion evident. “Of course, I’ll help you. But what’s happened? Are you sure you don’t want to go back home?”
    “No!” Delight exclaimed, her tone desperate. “I can’t go back.”
    “Well, sit down. I’ll get you a hot cup of tea and then we can talk,” Rose instructed as she moved to put the kettle on her small stove.
    Delight nodded mutely and somehow, with numb fingers, she managed to unfasten Sue’s cloak.
    “Let me take that.” Rose took the wrapper and looked at it questioningly. “Why this isn’t yours.”
    “No—it’s Sue’s—I had to—um—borrow it,” Delight tried to explain, but she started to shiver uncontrollably as the shock of the past hours became a reality to her.
    Rose hung the cloak on a peg by the door and hurried to pour the hot tea into the mismatched and chipped china cups.
    “Here you are.” She handed Delight the soothing brew and watched the trembling of the young girl’s hands worriedly. “Are you still cold?” Rose sat down beside her and took back the cup. Setting it aside, she took Delight’s hands in hers and rubbed warmth into them.
    “It’s not the cold,” Delight finally spoke, her voice quivering. “It was Martin.”
    Rose was stunned. How could he? Rage shook her. It had been bad enough when she’d been forced to quit her job at the de Vries home. Martin Montgomery had made his intentions toward her clear shortly after marrying Clara, and the only way for her to retain her virtue was to leave their employ. She might do scullery work and take in laundry and mending, but she was no whore! No matter what that filthy man had thought.
    Delight was not so unaware that she didn’t sense the change in Rose.
    “Rose? What’s wrong?” She was concerned at her friend’s pale, stricken features.
    “Nothing. Nothing at all. Tell me what happened. How can I help you?” Rose’s concern was real.
    “Did you know that Mother has been ill?”
    “Yes,” Rose responded sympathetically.
    “Well, I’ve been nursing her. She was so weak.…And Martin was helping, too….” Delight frowned as her concentration