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Authors: Tania Crosse
Tags: Romance
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lashes. And if Dr Powerâs recommendations were heeded, as they most likely would be, he never would. For the doctor felt he was fully justified in writing in Collingwoodâs medical notes that, due to his predisposition to pneumonia, he should never be flogged again.
The physician knew he had done what he had not only for the sake of the wronged man, but for the lovely young woman who had begged for his help. And the guilt of it would go with him to the grave.
âI need to send a telegram to London,â Charles announced coolly. âItâs raining hard so Iâm going to get Ned to take me in the wagonette. I trust you can behave yourself while Iâm out?â
Rose was sitting in the drawing room with her feet up, supposedly reading a book. But though her eyes were travelling along each line of the page, the meaning of the words was failing to register in her brain. She was alive only to the pain in her heart, and could think only of what she could do to rectify the situation. How could she get Gospel back? The commotion she had heard out in the stable yard had been the animal kicking up a fuss, literally. But not because of his dislike of Ned, as she had thought, but because he was being taken away by a stranger. Oh, God, if only she had known what was going on! Although what she could have done, locked up in the bedroom, she didnât know.
And then there was Seth. Florrie had duly delivered the letter to Dr Power and had also been to visit Mrs Cartwright, who had promised to have a word with her husband, although she doubted there was anything Jacob could do. Rose had, of course, received no news of what had happened to Seth. In one way, it was a relief, for until she did, she could cling to the hope that he had been spared his punishment. What she could do for him in the long run, she wasnât sure either. But one thing was certain: while Charles still distrusted her, he would continue to curtail her freedom. So, although she seethed with frustration and resentment, she must play the dutiful, obedient wife until that trust was restored.
âOf course. And what do you think Iâm likely to get up to, anyway, when Iâm eight months pregnant? I feel like a beached whale.â She flashed him her most winsome smile, and then looked down at her hands as they lovingly stroked over her bulging belly. If there was one thing that would gratify Charles, it was the thought of his unborn son.
âWell, you just take care. Iâll be as quick as I can. I donât want to be out in this any longer than I have to. You wouldnât think weâre just about into summer, would you? Itâs bucketing down, and all weâve got is that wretched wagonette. I keep promising myself to acquire some covered conveyance. I really must do so! This is bloody ridiculous. Iâm going to get soaked!â
Rose smirked quietly to herself as he went out of the room tutting under his breath. She hoped he would catch a cold and die from it after what he had done. She still couldnât believe that Gospel was no longer there, and kept going out to the stables, expecting him to have escaped from wherever he was and have found his way home. But only the dogs were there to greet her, and endearing as they were, they couldnât mend her broken heart.
She hauled herself to her feet now and went over to the front window. She could scarcely see for the lashing rain that drove against the glass, but a few minutes later, the wheels of the wagonette crunched on the gravel as Ned, hunched in a souâwester and waterproof cape, drove out from the side of the house. Charles was sitting aloft behind him, back straight as a mine rod, holding an enormous umbrella, which threatened at any moment to be turned inside out by the gusting wind. Rose gave a bitter, sardonic laugh. This was exposed Dartmoor, not a London street, and he really did look quite stupid!
But this was the moment she had been waiting
The physician knew he had done what he had not only for the sake of the wronged man, but for the lovely young woman who had begged for his help. And the guilt of it would go with him to the grave.
âI need to send a telegram to London,â Charles announced coolly. âItâs raining hard so Iâm going to get Ned to take me in the wagonette. I trust you can behave yourself while Iâm out?â
Rose was sitting in the drawing room with her feet up, supposedly reading a book. But though her eyes were travelling along each line of the page, the meaning of the words was failing to register in her brain. She was alive only to the pain in her heart, and could think only of what she could do to rectify the situation. How could she get Gospel back? The commotion she had heard out in the stable yard had been the animal kicking up a fuss, literally. But not because of his dislike of Ned, as she had thought, but because he was being taken away by a stranger. Oh, God, if only she had known what was going on! Although what she could have done, locked up in the bedroom, she didnât know.
And then there was Seth. Florrie had duly delivered the letter to Dr Power and had also been to visit Mrs Cartwright, who had promised to have a word with her husband, although she doubted there was anything Jacob could do. Rose had, of course, received no news of what had happened to Seth. In one way, it was a relief, for until she did, she could cling to the hope that he had been spared his punishment. What she could do for him in the long run, she wasnât sure either. But one thing was certain: while Charles still distrusted her, he would continue to curtail her freedom. So, although she seethed with frustration and resentment, she must play the dutiful, obedient wife until that trust was restored.
âOf course. And what do you think Iâm likely to get up to, anyway, when Iâm eight months pregnant? I feel like a beached whale.â She flashed him her most winsome smile, and then looked down at her hands as they lovingly stroked over her bulging belly. If there was one thing that would gratify Charles, it was the thought of his unborn son.
âWell, you just take care. Iâll be as quick as I can. I donât want to be out in this any longer than I have to. You wouldnât think weâre just about into summer, would you? Itâs bucketing down, and all weâve got is that wretched wagonette. I keep promising myself to acquire some covered conveyance. I really must do so! This is bloody ridiculous. Iâm going to get soaked!â
Rose smirked quietly to herself as he went out of the room tutting under his breath. She hoped he would catch a cold and die from it after what he had done. She still couldnât believe that Gospel was no longer there, and kept going out to the stables, expecting him to have escaped from wherever he was and have found his way home. But only the dogs were there to greet her, and endearing as they were, they couldnât mend her broken heart.
She hauled herself to her feet now and went over to the front window. She could scarcely see for the lashing rain that drove against the glass, but a few minutes later, the wheels of the wagonette crunched on the gravel as Ned, hunched in a souâwester and waterproof cape, drove out from the side of the house. Charles was sitting aloft behind him, back straight as a mine rod, holding an enormous umbrella, which threatened at any moment to be turned inside out by the gusting wind. Rose gave a bitter, sardonic laugh. This was exposed Dartmoor, not a London street, and he really did look quite stupid!
But this was the moment she had been waiting
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