The Husband Trap by Tracy Anne Warren

Author:Tracy Anne Warren [Warren, Tracy Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: RH Trade
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Autumn leaves crunched in dry, brittle clumps beneath Violet’s shoes as she made her way to the folly the next morning.

Set some yards distant from the house, the circular pavilion rose in a splendor of white stone columns and fancy Baroque scrollwork, the roof a fine domed cap adorned by a whimsical stone cherub.

She stepped into the pavilion, hugged her cloak close against the cold while she waited for Kit to arrive. To the east, a small flotilla of ducks passed, paddling and quacking their way across the glassy sapphire lake that ranged beyond. A fish flashed upward from the lake’s center. Its scales glinted silver in the daylight before disappearing once more into the water.

She willed herself not to tremble, half sick with nerves and dread.

She’d upset Agnes earlier, unable to eat more than a single bite of toast and half a cup of tea for breakfast. Her maid fretted around her, warning against a putrid ague that was making its way through the neighborhood. She’d urged her to stay in bed and rest, especially considering her headache of the evening before.

But she could not rest. Nor could she laze the day away in bed. She had an appointment to keep, her fate to confront, whether it would lead to disaster or reprieve.

She heard him approach. The capes on his greatcoat billowed in a gust of wind, his hatless head bared to the elements.

“Brisk out here,” Kit commented as he mounted the folly’s steps. “It would have been far more comfortable meeting again in the conservatory, nestled warm among all the hothouse plants.”

“I did not wish to risk us being overheard,” she said without preamble. “Though if you have decided to expose my identity, the location of our meeting makes little difference, I suppose.”

He rubbed his gloved palms together for warmth, nodded toward a short seating area that ringed the inside of the structure. “Shall we sit?”

She shook her head. “No, thank you, but pray do so if you wish.”

Not one to stand on ceremony, Kit accepted her invitation and sat down.

She paced one way, paced the other, then stopped on a sharp turn of her heel. “Put me out of my torment. Tell me what you have decided. I can bear it no longer.”

“Very well,” he began. “It was not an easy choice, I’ll tell you that. I did a great deal of thinking upon the matter last night and again this morning. Far more thinking, I must confess, than I am generally accustomed to engaging in. Made my brain fairly ache, what with all the strain I have been under of late.”

“Blast it, Kit. Would you just tell me,” she exploded in an outburst that surprised them both.

He arched an eyebrow, a gesture highly reminiscent of his brother. “This pretending to be Jeannette is really rubbing off on you, is it not?”

“Kit, please.”

He relented. “All right. Against my better judgment, I have decided to keep your secret.”

“Oh, thank the Lord.” Weak relief shot through her legs, making her wish she’d taken his suggestion to sit.

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