Page 3 of The Marquess of Secrets

Good God above.

Tremain’s gossip traveled far and wide thanks to Lady Trimly, no doubt jealousy the reason.

Eliza, Tremain’s fiancée, could be considered haughty at the first meeting as her mode of speech was formal. Harrison surmised it was her upbringing in the orphanage and instruction by the nuns. But he soon concluded that Eliza possessed a generous, warm nature. Perfect for his brother.

“I feel rather cross now that I’ve repeated this malicious tittle-tattle; it put me right out of sorts,” Francesca pouted teasingly.

“Then this should cheer you up.” Harrison reached for a wooden satin-covered box and handed it to her. “Buttercreams from H.I. Rowntree and Company. I know you like them. They have begun to carry a new confection developed in Switzerland: milk chocolate.”

Francesca squealed with delight. After opening the box, she peeled away the parchment paper. “Is it this lighter color the milk chocolate?’ she asked, her eyes sparkling.

“It is. Try it. I found it far sweeter than the dark one.”

With a contented sigh, she bit into the small candy. “Delicious. I like the extra sweetness. Thank you, Tennington. You are thoughtful.”

“Lift the tray,” he coaxed in a soft voice.

She gave him a puzzled look but did as he asked. Her hand flew to her mouth to cover her gasp of shock. “Are they emeralds?”

“Yes, they are. I know you adore gold bracelets. Those tiny stones are emeralds.”

Pulling it over her wrist, she gave him a radiant smile. “This is exquisite. I love it. Thank you, Tennington. I daresay this is almost as if this were a dismissal gift.” Francesca's smile deflated. “Oh, this is goodbye, isn’t it?”

“There is more.”

Francesca lifted the folded papers from the sweet box. She quickly scanned them. “You’re giving me this townhouse and the contents?” she whispered.

“Yes. It’s yours to do as you will. Live in it, sell it, or use it for your next affair, whatever you wish.” He took her hand and kissed it. “It is goodbye along with a heartfelt thank you. You kept up the pretense I was an unrepentant rake, and I appreciate the effort.”

“I was a handy excuse and glad to maintain the illusion you kept me busy every night when in fact, you were not.” She gave him a sad smile. “I will confess I’d hoped you would come more often. I truly did.”

Harrison had other commitments. Ones he would not reveal to Francesca regardless of the trust between them.

She tapped the papers thoughtfully against her chin. “There will be no one else after you, Tennington. It’s time to retire. I may be older than you think.”

“Indeed? Care to elaborate?”

“I turned forty, three months past.”

By God, she didn’t look it.

“You are remarkably well-preserved,” Harrison teased good-naturedly.

“It takes a good deal of care and effort to maintain such a state. It’s time for Francesca Whitten to fade into the mist and for Annie Stokes to step forward. I think I will purchase a seaside cottage in a small village. Perhaps I’ll meet a tall, broad-shouldered, handsome vicar much like your brother. My vicar will be distinguished, with a touch of gray at his temples. And will not care a whit for my past.”

Harrison laughed. “You are a treasure, Francesca, or should I say—Annie?”

“That’s my real name. You’re the only one I’ve ever told.”

He kissed her forehead, then pushed the sheet away and stood, looking about for his clothes. Once he located them, he began to dress.

“You are a man of many secrets. A true puzzle. But I respect the fact you keep your covert life to yourself,” she whispered.

A covert life. If she only knew.

“Look at me, Harry.”

It was the first time she’d ever used his first name. He halted doing the buttons on his waistcoat and turned to face her.