Wedded in White: The Brothers Duke: Book Six by Felicia Greene

Author:Felicia Greene [Greene, Felicia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-11-24T18:00:00+00:00

Charles had always loved the mill at night. He rarely spent time in his new mills, more than able to run operations without ever having to set foot on the workers scurried about, and he hadn’t realised how much he’d missed it. Especially at night, when everyone had gone home and even the guard dogs slept on their chains.

A large, yellow-tinted moon hung low in the sky. Charles looked at it through the window, taking brief comfort in its light, before a wave of sadness flooded him once again.

Susan had walked away from him without a word. They had been close to something–a shouting match, a kiss–but at the last possible moment, all that possibility had shattered into pieces. He had already done so much here, achieved so much… but Susan, the real reason he’d returned, seemed forever lost to him.

He jumped as a canine snore split the air. The spaniel, with its paw all but healed and its jowls even bigger than usual thanks to three meals of meat every day, slept with deep calm on a pile of cotton scraps.

At least the dog was well. He hadn’t managed to get a vet to see to it yet, and he hadn’t taken a proper look at the creature after he’d managed to get the glass out of its paw, but it seemed a cheerful little thing. Fatter than ever, more idiotic with every passing day–oh, for a life like that. An existence untroubled by higher feeling, where all love was returned. And Morton was agreeing to pay for the mill, or at least some of it, and the workers were doing their jobs well. This was a fine place, and a fine situation, if only he could look beyond the state of his own heart.

A distant bark made the spaniel twitch in its bed. One of the guard dogs had been awoken by something–and damn it, the groundsman hadn’t arrived to let them off their chains. It was probably a pigeon, or a rat–and if it was a criminal, well, all the nervous tension in his breast would probably mean he could put up a good fight.

‘Well?’ He tried to sound frightening, but it came out as oddly imperious. As if he were holding a picnic in the middle of an empty mill at the dead of light. ‘I wouldn’t come any closer, if I were you.’

He stopped as the small, wavering shadow on the threshold of the half-open door grew more distinct. The shape rapidly became familiar: a graceful severity to the limbs, a touch of chaos in the hair…

‘Susan.’ Her name almost caught in his throat. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘No.’ Susan drew closer. In the light of the moon she looked almost ghostly; Charles paused, fighting the irrational certainty that this was a visitation from beyond the veil. That happened, didn’t it–one could be visited by the people one cared about that had died, especially in moments of danger and trouble. ‘There’s nothing wrong.’

‘You frightened me.’

‘Good.’ A slight smile hung at the corner of Susan’s mouth.

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