He got to his feet, put his hands to her shoulders, and kissed her on the crown of her hair. “I pray that day never comes.”
#
She took her tea down in the kitchen. Peggy had tried to get her to reveal her problems. The cook even asked if the encounter with the lady in the shop were her problem. Inès declined to speak. The whole house knew the master’s bride had sequestered herself in the servants’ attic. She avoided them all as much as she could.
“They must not blame him, Peggy.” The idea that the staff would turn on Evan appalled her. “He has no fault in this. I am the one who cannot be a good wife to him.”
“His valet, Simms, says he walks the floor like one from Bedlam. He coughs, too. We think he has a sickness.”
“Take him broth and lots of chamomile tea, Peggy. He needs to be strong.”
“Why don’t you take it to him, ma’am?”
“Oh, Peggy. I cannot. He is too wonderful and he would use his words to lure me back. I cannot go.”
“And if you have a babe? We all know ye were his true wife. If ye were in his bed for seven weeks, me lady, then…”
“I was.” Inès closed her eyes, remembering her husband’s touch, his kiss, his care. She gulped and pushed the dazzling memories aside. Instead, she sat, reaffirming that Evan had been correct that her last flux was before Christmas. Since then, she and he had often celebrated their growing love for each other. She hated the idea that she might be with child and still have to leave the man she adored. Chances were slim, weren’t they, that she was pregnant? She told herself it had to be so. Had to be… “I am not now his devoted wife.”
#
Hawthorne Trading Company
1 Clements Lane, Lombard Street
London
“I must speak with Scarlett and you. Now.” Evan had barged into the Hawthorne Trading Company offices minutes after watching his wife of seven weeks tell him their marriage was finished.
Todd Carlton arched two long, dark brows and extended a hand in welcome. “A problem?”
Evan nodded. “One.”
“We are always ready to help.”
“You and Scarlett may be the only ones who can.” He eyed the man who was Scarlett’s watchdog, assistant, adviser, and all else except her lover. “I abide by your code. You do by ours. Now I need to breach it. My wife is in danger.”
Carlton spun around and gave one knock to the door.
Not a moment had passed before Scarlett swung wide her door. A quick assessment of Evan’s demeanor was all it took for her to step aside. “Please.”
The two men strode in. She offered chairs.
Todd remained standing.
Evan was right beside him. “Inès is tortured by her past. I must know what that was. In detail, please.”
Scarlett strolled to her window, composed as ever. Schooled in England, France, and Switzerland, she was her parents’ only child. An elegant beauty who spoke three languages, she had inherited her father’s—and before him, her grandfather’s—merchant shipping company. Rich as Midas, lovely as sin with auburn hair and porcelain complexion, she had a wickedly sharp mind. What she did not know, Carlton did—or he learned. Today, she was dressed in the latest fashion, a creamy gown of finely wrought Bengali muslin so airy it flowed over her curvaceous body like silk.
“Has she told you anything about her actions in the past?” she asked him. Her only sign of nerves was that she fingered a paperweight of crystal.
He blew out a breath. “She began as a runner for Lady Ashley and Lady Ramsey. She may be known to other Paris runners in your network. Perhaps even your Paris chief of staff, Magnus Corsini. Not long ago, she went to Boulogne. There she was instrumental in the duping of the French Admiralty in the construction of their amphibious boats for Bonaparte’s attempted invasion of Britain.”
Scarlett regarded him with wary forest-green eyes. “She has been invaluable to us.”
“I agree.”
“But now?” She cocked her head. “What has happened?”
