One Forbidden Evening by Jo Goodman

Author:Jo Goodman [Goodman, Jo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2010-02-28T00:00:00+00:00

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Chapter Nine

Cybelline pushed at the hem of her gown as Ferrin rolled to one side. He attended to righting his own clothes while she tugged at her neckline to cover her breasts. She was relieved when she felt him rise from the bed, but wary when he merely stood beside it.

When he finally spoke it was with quiet intensity. "Do you despise yourself so much, then?"

Cybelline avoided meeting his gaze. "You cannot imagine."

There was a significant pause before Ferrin answered. "Do not be so certain."

Now Cybelline's eyes darted to his, and what she saw was a look of such ineffable sadness and pain that she turned from it immediately. "Go," she said, laying her forearm across her eyes. The weight of her arm eased the throbbing in her head. "Please go."

Ferrin stood over the bed a moment longer. Nothing in his expression changed. "As you wish."

Cybelline did not know the fullness to which he would take her meaning. She learned when supper was brought to her that he was preparing to quit the Sharpe house.

According to Webb, no one among the staff was pleased to learn of it.

"You could not expect he would stay here forever," Cy-belline said. She dutifully uncovered the tray that was delivered to the sitting room, though she had no idea whether she could find appetite enough for Mrs. Minty's roast beef and boiled potatoes. "You can see for yourself that I am well enough. There is no reason that Mr. Wells-ley must hover any longer."

Webb shrugged. "I see that you want to be well enough."

Cybelline broke off a piece of bread and dabbed at the gravy on her plate. "What do you mean by that? You seem to believe I am happy to see the last of him."

Webb picked up the blanket that was on the window bench and began to fold it. "Am I mistaken in thinking that's not the way of it?"

"He knows very well that I am grateful for his assistance."

Pausing as she folded, Webb merely regarded her mistress with a knowing mien. She did not have to point out that Cybelline's response was no answer to her question.

"It is not right that Mr. Wellsley should live in my pockets," Cybelline said. She picked up her knife and fork and began to cut her meat. "He must have other things to occupy him."

"He does." Webb lifted the lid on the window bench and placed the blanket inside. "I never knew a gentleman could have so much to occupy his time."

Cybelline told herself that she did not want to know. She managed to get a slice of roast beef all the way to her lips before she gave in to her curiosity. "How so?"

Webb busied herself straightening the drapes at the window. "He's always reading, except that when he's not, he's got this odd look in his eyes, like he's thinking about what he's read, and when he's not got that look, it's because he's making sketches or writing or fiddling with one thing or another.

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