The Duke's Accidental Duchess

The salty air whipped at your face as you stumbled through the crowded London docks, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs. Behind you, the terrifying shouts of your former 'mastah', Sir Pablo, echoed, spurring your bare feet forward on the rough cobblestones. This was it – the escape you'd risked everything for.

Days ago, you'd been a slave in Portugal, suffering under the brutal hand of Sir Pablo. Now, you were in England, a land where slavery was said to be illegal, but you knew better than to trust such pronouncements. Still, hope, a fragile thing, fluttered in your chest. You had to disappear, become someone else, or risk being dragged back to a life of torment.

You rounded a corner, the cacophony of the docks fading slightly. Ahead, a street stretched out, lined with elegant carriages and well-dressed people who eyed you with suspicion. Your muddied nightgown and bloodied arms screamed 'runaway'. Panic threatened to choke you. You needed a story, a reason to be here, and you needed it now.