An Arranged Marriage by Jo Beverley

Author:Jo Beverley [Beverley, Jo]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Historical Romance, Adult
ISBN: 9781436127011
Google: tPZNPwAACAAJ
Amazon: 0786224967
Barnesnoble: 0786224967
Goodreads: 765920
Publisher: Zebra
Published: 1991-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

He lit the candles with a taper from the low fire and looked around. “This is a very fine room, I always think.

Well, which book are you so anxious to share with me?“

Eleanor shrugged and took up the folder of Chinese prints. “Have you seen these? They are exquisite.”

He turned the sheets carefully. “Very fine. I have some similar, but none as delicate as these.”

His manner was simply kind, and Eleanor relaxed as usual into the pleasure of his company. They were studying the prints, Eleanor seated and Francis leaning over her shoulder, when the door opened and Nicholas entered. He closed the door quietly behind him.

Eleanor blushed and Francis smiled.

Nicholas could not be said to be angry, or even concerned, and yet there had been a flash in his eyes when he first entered. Eleanor had to force herself not to leap to her feet and stammer out excuses.

Nicholas strolled over to the table. “You are admiring these? I think we should have some of them mounted.”

“Yes,” Francis replied in an equally light tone. “It is a shame to hide them, but be careful the light does not spoil them. Treasures need to be cherished.” He glanced down at Eleanor’s head, where she seemed engrossed in the prints, and then quietly left the room.

At the click of the door Eleanor looked up in alarm. She had been abandoned. Nicholas was studying her with careful attention.

“Has something in particular upset you?” he asked. They both knew he was not referring to the general state of their marriage.

“No, nothing at all,” she said hurriedly. “We must go back. It does not do for us both to be neglecting our guests.”

“I think everyone is quite content for the moment.”

He perched on the corner of the table beside the chair on which she sat. It was a more intimate situation than any they had been in for weeks. Idly, he twirled one of her curls around his finger.

She found she could not look at him.

His voice came softly in the quiet room. “You are being very brave and very careful, Eleanor. You cannot know how grateful I am to you.”

There was a magic in the moment, and Eleanor tried to hold onto it, but it evaporated as she remembered what he was doing with the time she was so generously allowing him. She did not want his gratitude for her complaisance. She was trying, head still lowered, to decide on her response when he spoke again.

“Would it help you to know, I wonder, that I am finding this time as difficult as you? And, I suspect, for many of the same reasons.”

Surprised, she responded honestly with a slight nod, the anger melting into swallowed tears. They were, she thought, equal parts grief and happiness. She did not understand what he was saying, but his tone of deep concern was balm for her pride. At least he felt something for her.

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