Dark Angel by T.J. Bennett

Author:T.J. Bennett [Bennett, T.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Paranormal, Series, entangled publishing, romance series, Dark Angel, Gothic Fairy Tale, Romance, TJ Bennett
ISBN: 9781622661077
Google: jQ4KAQAAQBAJ
Amazon: B00FIL33ZA
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2013-10-20T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

While Gerard, pretending to eat, eyed me across the table during a meal which was indeed so sinfully delicious it would have made the archangels weep, I broached the subject that had been on my mind since leaving Matthew.

“I wish to visit with a Mrs. Blackpot from the village, Gerard. Could you arrange an interview with her for me?”

He halted the ascent of the spoon containing kippered cod’s roe to his mouth. “The midwife? Why?”

“Well, it is a delicate matter. Not appropriate for dinner conversation.”

He frowned. “Then why did you bring it up at dinner?”

I shifted in my seat. “It simply occurred to me at the moment. I had no intention of discussing the particulars with you.”

Setting his spoon down, he drilled me with a hard stare. “If you intend to visit the midwife about a delicate matter, I damn well want to know what it is. You haven’t been here long enough to get into that sort of trouble.” He squinted at me. “Unless you were enceinte when you arrived?”

“Oh, for goodness’s sake, no, Gerard. It concerns—” I pursed my lips, knowing how sensitive he was on the subject of the stillbirths.

“Yes?”

“Well, I understand she counsels the women here on intimate matters.” Lowering my voice in deference to the footmen standing against the wall, I whispered, “Her advice must not be working, given the number of unfortunate incidents that still seem to occur.”

His mouth tightened. “I see. And what good would speaking to her do?”

“In my professional experience, I have encountered women who engage in behaviors that can put them at risk for unwanted consequences. I happen to know there are reliable devices to prevent such consequences.”

His expression went blank.

“You are so troubled by the—the stillbirths here.” I lowered my gaze to the delicate china on the table, fiddling with my fork. “Matthew explained what you endure for the sake of the laboring women.” At his sharp intake of breath, I rushed on. “If I could help them to prevent conception, there would be no more heartbreak, either for the women or for you.”

He clenched his spoon in his hand but finally relented. “It is not necessary for you to attend Mrs. Blackpot at her home. I will send for her.” Catching a footman’s eye, the silent order was given.

“Thank you, Gerard,” I murmured and applied myself to my meal once more.

He was quiet for a long time, but I knew he watched me. I finally met his gaze. “What?”

His expression troubled, he said, “The life you have led. What you have endured. I admire you, but at the same time, you bring out such conflict in me, such protectiveness. I want to—” He broke off, gripping the stem of his wineglass so hard, I feared it might snap. “No, it is too pathetic,” he said beneath his breath, then pushed his glass and plate away. A footman immediately removed them.

I leaned closer to him, placing my hand over his on the table, and spoke softly. “What is it, Gerard? You can tell me anything; I hope you know that by now.

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