The Devil and the Heiress by Harper St. George

Author:Harper St. George [St. George, Harper]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2021-06-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Temptation had never felt as visceral as it did that evening. That was the night Rose knew that the game had become her entire life, and she was willing to risk all to win.

V. Lennox, An American and the London Season

Several days had passed since the accident, and Violet was enjoying her first proper bath. Well, it was a hip bath, so proper was a stretch, but it was luxurious nonetheless. Mrs. Mitchell worked the lavender soap all the way down to the roots of Violet’s hair, the soft and repetitive grazing of the woman’s fingertips relaxing her.

“Tip your head back.” The command came all too soon, but Violet obeyed, tipping her head back so that the woman could pour warm water over her hair to rinse out the soap. After a few dips of a small pitcher into a large pot hanging near the fire, Mrs. Mitchell said, “Good lass. That is done. Let us remove your bandages now.”

Violet took in the kitchen as the woman began the tedious task of unwrapping the length of cotton fabric that swathed her ribs and held her right arm secured to her side. When she had begged for a bath instead of the usual sponge bath, Dr. Mitchell had relented on allowing her a little time out of bed to accomplish the task. Mrs. Mitchell had been gracious enough to offer her assistance, and Christian had carried her down the narrow stairs. She had told him that she could walk, but he had insisted on carrying her, to which she had conceded easily because it meant that he held her in his arms. In bed, he kept himself rigidly away from her. When she did bridge the gap between them, he never touched her with his hands. He certainly never held her.

The kitchen was a humble room with an ancient fireplace and hearth on the long side with the window, a cast-iron range and a table for preparing food along another wall, a water pump in the corner, storage shelves, and a larger table in the middle of the room. The hip bath, a steel contraption that was so small her legs hung over the side, had been set before the fire. Modest though it was, the home was quite charming with its plaster wall and thatched roof. She found herself imagining what it must be like to live here in this tiny village with no expectations beyond raising a family and being friendly with her neighbors. She could raise children in the daytime, write in the evenings, and make love to her husband at night. Christian was the husband in her fantasy. It was a silly daydream, because life was infinitely more complicated than that, but that didn’t stop her from imagining it.

Deep laughter drew her eye to the window. Christian sat in the warm afternoon sunshine at a small table across from Dr. Mitchell. They were playing chess, and whatever Christian had said had apparently been hilarious. Dr. Mitchell took off his glasses to wipe his eyes.

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