Beneath an Italian Sky by Stacy Henrie

Author:Stacy Henrie
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Romance, Victorian Romance, 20th Century Romance, Christian Romance, Christian Historical Fiction
Publisher: Mirror Press, LLC
Published: 2019-04-22T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

“Would you excuse us for a moment, Mr. Sharpe?” Clare threaded her arm through her husband’s and forced a congenial smile for the reporter. Anger still heated her cheeks, but she maintained a calm exterior as she led Emmett to the back of the steamer. She was barely aware of Antonina following behind them.

At the rear of the ship, Clare released her hold and folded her arms tightly against her soiled robe and nightgown. She ought to be embarrassed at her appearance, but she was too grateful for having survived the past two days and too irate with Emmett to care how horribly unkempt she looked right now.

“Why is there a reporter here, Emmett?”

Her husband glanced back down the deck. “He’s come to write about us.”

“That was his explanation. I want yours.” Clare hadn’t missed the subtle panic in her husband’s blue eyes when Mr. Sharpe had introduced himself. Emmett had been surprised by the reporter’s appearance at this moment but not shocked to learn a reporter had come to find them here. And she wanted to know why.

He ran his hands down his unshaven face. A light beard that she found irritatingly attractive had formed along his jaw. However, the man standing before her in wrinkled, dirty clothes and a worn expression hardly resembled the witty, good-natured Lord Linwood she’d met and married last year.

“My father believes the country could use more reminders that we’re happy as a couple. More than you and I simply being seen together in England while I campaign.” His tone held little emotion, other than resignation. The steamer was moving by now, and Emmett stared out at the water slipping past them. “He told me before I left for Sicily that he’d hired a reporter to come here with me and write stories about us.”

Clare turned to face the railing, hurt mingling dangerously with her anger. To think he’d been upset with her for not sharing sooner about her childhood. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I asked him not to send anyone,” Emmett countered. There was no mistaking the frustration leaking into his voice this time, though Clare wasn’t sure if it was directed at her, Lord Hadwell, or the both of them. “I committed to coming here to ask you to return to England with me, but I wouldn’t abide having someone along to report our every move. However, apparently my wish in that regard was only honored until the day after I boarded the steamer bound for Sicily.”

His words inspired the faintest flicker of compassion inside Clare, strong enough that she couldn’t ignore it. To have a father who wouldn’t honor such a request was awful. “Why do you try so hard to please him?” The question slipped out almost unbidden. She’d wondered it a dozen times or more during their short marriage but hadn’t found the courage to ask it outright. Now the query hung taut in the air between them.

“I’m all he has for an heir.” Emmett matched her stance at the railing, his hands gripping the metal.

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