Read Online Dark Angel by T.J. Bennett - Free Book Online

must have begun searching for me by now. News of the Merry Widow’s foundering would surely have made its way back to port. While no one knew precisely which ship I had boarded, or indeed that I had boarded any at all, it would only require minor inquiries to conclude I had left the Isle of Man secretly and taken the ship to Liverpool.
    I had been owner and head proprietress of the Benevolent Home for Disadvantaged Children for the past two years. I provided an education and a daily hot meal, as well as a safe place for the children to live, in the hopes that they might better themselves and become productive members of society.
    My father-in-law had wrongly believed he could bring me to heel by putting my money into his own accounts and refusing to consign me more than a pittance of an allowance, so that I might not support the children of whores. When his bankers realized the notes of credit from Jonathan’s father had been forged, they would waste no time in pursuing me for fraud.
    I had counted that payment of the overdue taxes on the Benevolent Home with the stolen notes and coins I’d hidden in my reticule would buy enough time for the sale of my own home to conclude. But I had not anticipated the storm or the loss of the money.
    Now I was trapped here, a victim of circumstance, while the clock ticked away and time turned from friend to enemy.
    It did not matter. I would find a way home.
    I was determined. I was unstoppable .
    The word brought back memories of Gerard’s strangely erotic speech last night, and I pushed that thought aside as well.
    No more distractions.
    More than anything, I could not allow myself to dwell on my attraction to him. As an unchaperoned female guest in his home, I was already courting disaster. Hence my determination to visit the village today: if I couldn’t find passage off the island, other lodgings might be had which would prevent me from falling into disrepute if I should have to stay awhile. Tempting as a liaison with Gerard might be, I could not become entangled with any man at this point in my life. Aside from the moral implications, the children needed me, and the actions I had taken to protect them could bring ruin upon any man associated with me.
    Mrs. Jones had apparently been informed of my desire to visit the village, for after I ate a late meal, she sought me out and bundled me up appropriately, for the wind was biting, she said. We loaded up in Gerard’s well sprung, if old-fashioned, open carriage with two footmen behind and a driver up front, and off we went.
    The village turned out to be only two miles away, hardly far enough to launch such equipage on it, but I saw no point in insisting on walking. I knew enough about Gerard to understand his servants would balk at any opposition to his commands. I settled back on the squabs, Mrs. Jones opposite me, and observed the passing scenery, the first opportunity I had had to do so since my arrival.
    The island was stark and beautiful. The recent storm had piled the billowing clouds into one corner of the sky, where they bunched up like feather pillows thrust aside by some giant, restless hand, allowing the sun to peek through. Wind and rain had etched the edges of the island into craggy cliffs and steep drop-offs, while the interior was dense with primordial woods.
    Sprawling Alexander Hall, formed of dark slate walls and red sandstone tiled roofs, was joined to the island by a projection of land shaped like a hand curled into a fist, the island being the arm, the wrist of which formed the only means of traveling to and from the main road and back to Gerard’s estate. A wide path had been laid in a winding S-shape over which the horses clopped on their way down the hillside. Gorse and heather grew along its edges.
    Despite the fact that it was near the end of October, the grass still grew emerald green, and brown, woolly sheep dotted the fields. A small inlet was the only easy access to the ocean, as far as I could see. I