Henry's Bride (London Libertines Book 1) by Emily Royal

Author:Emily Royal [Royal, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2019-06-02T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

“Charlotte!”

Jeanette’s heart leapt with joy at the sight of her new friend in Hyde Park.

“Lady Ravenwell, should you greet me so openly? Aren’t you concerned what people might say?”

“Let them say what they will. And please, call me Jeanette.”

“What about Henry?”

An invisible fist clenched her heart at the mention of his name, and Charlotte’s familiar use of it.

“We barely speak,” she sighed. “He’s gone by the time I take my breakfast and at night…”

Heat rose in her face, her body burning with need and loss.

“Has Doctor Hill visited you yet?”

“Yes.” Jeanette nodded. “He warned me of the dangers of leaving the wound untreated but assured me it should heal cleanly now. I cannot thank you enough.

“I’m so glad,” Charlotte said. “Will you be wearing your red dress to the opera tonight? Madame Dupont showed it to me before she packed it to send to you.”

“It’s a little daring. Perhaps the green…”

“Nonsense! If Henry doesn’t already love you, he will once he sees you in that red silk.”

Charlotte was right. Henry couldn’t maintain the wall of hostility forever. The loving tender man who caressed her to pleasure at night would emerge once more. Perhaps he only needed a little encouragement.

When hope returned to her, hope that he might grow fond of her, then she’d dare to wear the red dress.

*

Jenkins addressed her as soon as she returned home.

“His lordship awaits you in the library.”

Mirroring the interview on the day of her marriage, Jeanette found herself standing before her husband while he sat at his desk. He gestured to the chair in front of him.

As soon as she sat, he held up a letter between thumb and forefinger, distaste on his lips as if the paper burned his skin.

“Doctor Hill is a most anxious correspondent,” he said. “You should tell him it’s not seemly for husbands to pay him for his services. I rather think he should be paying you.”

“I–I’m sorry…”

He raised a hand, cutting off her apology. “Isn’t it a little late for that?”

“I’d asked Doctor Hill to send the account directly to me. Let me settle it myself. I have money of my own.”

“Money which I provide.” His expression hardened. “Whichever method is used to settle the account, I’m the one who ultimately pays, am I not?”

He crumpled the piece of paper in his hand, then tossed it behind him.

“I’ve already settled the account. Now go.”

He bent his head down, dipped his pen into the inkpot in front of him, and began to write, seemingly ignoring her.

Her legs wobbled as she stood. Before she reached the door, he called out.

“You’re not to receive visitors without my permission. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes,” she said quietly.

“…and I trust you appreciate why I must leave you alone until the fruits of your disgrace are revealed or not.” He set his pen down and turned his gaze on her, his eyes glacial. “Do you understand?”

Her heart screamed at her to admit she didn’t, but his narrowed eyes and dark anger forced her to nod.

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