Rules of Marriage by Wilma Counts

Rules of Marriage by Wilma Counts

Author:Wilma Counts [Counts, Wilma]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Zebra Books
Published: 2015-02-04T00:00:00+00:00


When Lord Wellington finally gave the order for the army to begin moving north, Jake was no closer to a solution to the dilemma of Rachel than he had been on the night of the sale. In fact, the situation grew increasingly complicated as he spent more and more time with her.

In their long walks, he asked about her family, and she told him of her childhood and youth. Some of this sounded vaguely familiar to him.

“Have you told me this before? I cannot believe I would have forgotten all of it.”

She blushed prettily. “Well, yes. As a matter of fact, I did tell you something of myself once.”

“You did?”

“You were in no condition to respond, but you seemed quieter if someone talked to you. At Badajoz, immediately after you were wounded.”

“And you were the someone.”

“I conjectured it was merely a female voice to which you responded.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously as she looked up at him, and he wanted to kiss her right there in the middle of the village. “Many wounded soldiers cry out for their mothers or sweethearts, you know.”

“Oh?” He pretended hauteur. “And you thought I was like all the rest?”

He was pleased when she picked up on the game and pretended to smooth his offended sensibilities. “Oh, no. Never.” She paused. “I knew you were.”

“Hmmph.”

Her little giggle at this bit of foolishness told him, as nothing else had, that the resilient Rachel was on her way to recovery.

“So? Go on. Tell me more about your Addy,” he urged.

As her story unfolded, he became aware it was true. She had no one to whom she could return in England. Not that he had doubted her before, but now he saw the situation in clearer terms. She expressed gratitude toward her aunt and uncle, but they sounded coldly indifferent to his ears.

“What of your mother’s family?” he asked.

“I know nothing of them,” she said sadly. “Papa rarely spoke of them. He said it broke Mama’s heart when her papa disowned her.”

“Do you know her maiden name?”

“Hendon.”

“Hmm. It means naught to me, but my brother may know of it.”

Her eyes twinkled again. “I thank you for the implied compliment, but I doubt anyone connected to a country doctor in Scotland would belong in such a rarefied atmosphere as a marquis occupies.”

“Now don’t you go all haughty on me, my dear,” he admonished jokingly. “You have told me she taught you pretty English manners, and that she was different from the mothers of your friends.”

“True, but—”

“And did you not say it was she who insisted on her deathbed that her daughter go to a proper school?”

“Yes, but Papa would have done that in any case.”

They walked in silence for a while. Then he said, “There is a touch of Romeo and Juliet in the story of your parents.”

“Yes. ’Tis wonderfully romantic—if somewhat mysterious now.”

From that they went on to talk of Shakespeare, for Jake had lent her his copy of the bard’s works and he knew she had been devouring the plays when he was away during the day.



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